Things are a little fucked up at the moment. I’m having an arthritis flare, which sounds pretty and fun but really isn’t. Because all the little bones in my hands and feet feel like they are broken.

I am typing this with my nose. OK, that was a lie.

Also, it is at the very end of a really long month, so I am broke and have resorted to my usual coping mechanism, which is researching crazy shit on the internet. Remember when I tried to toilet train my cats? And when I was going to stop washing my hair? All concepts conceived at the end of the month when I was broke. It’s like I get infected with loony.

So, in an effort to not be crazy, I am going to go take a nap then do some household chores. Let’s all hope that tides me over, but if I do get a crazy idea that I become convinced is good, believe me, I’ll be writing about it.

I can’t help myself, dudes. That’s why I am heavily medicated. For your protection.

Things that will immediately make it clear to me that your comment is spam:

Telling me that this was a useful read. I know full well that there is very little of use to anyone on this blog, unless you want a primer on how to use the word “cunt” in casual conversation, and so starting out thanking me for information will instantly red flag you.

Using this blog to ‘practice your English’. Again, if this is the blog you have chosen to practice the English language, you are in more trouble than I can possibly help you with. SPAM.

Telling me that you tried to put me in your reader but something went wrong. The Unbearable Hotness Of Robert is on this blog like white on rice, and so everything pretty much works all the time. That is the beauty of Robert.SPAMZINI.

Putting a link in your comment. This won’t automatically get you canned, but more likely than not. My friends generally send me links in email, with a subject. SPAMTASM.

Your homepage is pharmtechcareers.com. Really, dude? Does this work on anyone? SPAMOSTIC.

Yeah, it’s pretty obvious I cleaned out the spam filter, isn’t it? I mean, the fuck with that? Does anyone fall for that shit? GAH.

In the pantheon of awesomeness that is the category of  People Who Are Made Of Win That I Have Never Actually Met, there are many names, people who I have only ever known online, but who I feel are like good friends.

Grant is the first to come to mind. He is grumpy and bunny obsessed. Then there is Renn and Tif and Tammie, all lovely people and now, most recently, Palmer Davis, who is cracking me the hell up every day on the Facebook. And let us not forget Tim, my partner in crime, and Avitable, EVERYONE’S partner in crime.

The thing is, I have been online for a long time, and I have ‘met’ some pretty awesome people through blogging. I know that many people who don’t blog and Twitter and the rest of the fuckaround stuff have a hard time understanding how you can consider someone you have never been face to face with a friend, but these are people who have given me support in some of the most challenging times of my life, who have been encouraging and caring to me, and I love them.

And I have met some of them in the real life, and some of them are my closest friends. Sizzle is a good example of this, as is Emcity Chris, Dave from Blogography and Cheryl of Bread and Bread.

I firmly believe that one needs to take one’s friends where one can find them. I also hate talking in the third person, but somehow, when using “one”, it sucks me in.

Also, if you are my friend and I did not mention you in this post, feel free to send me angry emails. I like that.

AND I wrote THIS. You know, in case you’re bored, or not friends with me on the Facebook.

Today I got iron, did paperwork, watched a show about a hypnotizing zit, did dishes, spot cleaned the carpet, took a nap and set up my dialyzor for  tomorrow.

That’s it, dudes.

Oh, there was the hour where Frannie Cat sat with her back towards me, meowing at the kitchen and occasionally looking at me over her shoulder to see if I was getting the point, but that is just part of the Joy Of Cats, which is that it is a lot like living with teenage girls. There is less lip gloss, though, and the cats at least do not try to steal my sneakers.

Now, if you are from New England, you can probably translate this post title into “I carried that extremely heavy thing for a very long time.”

If you are from Away (anywhere that is NOT New England) you now have some very strange ideas about what I do for fun in my spare time.

Perverts.

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I keep seeing a bug in my apartment. I have checked my supply of anti psychotics, and I appear to have skipped no doses, so I am hereby making the assumption that the bug is real.

It flies around, and then disappears, I have no idea where. And the cats don’t pay it any attention whatsoever, the lazy bastards.

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Also, crosswalks are for suckers. That’s right, I said it, I’m a jaywalker. Nobody cared when I lived in Maine, but now total strangers seem to feel the need to comment on my scofflaw ways.

This does not, strangely, make me more inclined to use the crosswalks.

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Now me and my contrary ass are going to dialyze. Yeah, it’s high times in the whorehouse today. Oh, and I killed that bug so I’m pretty sure that it was real, on account of the carcass. So there’s that.