The Pressure Cooker

Those of you who are reading this and do not have a public presence have it easy. You get to sit there and read and comment as "Anonymous" and have a good 'ol time. People like me who have this stupid need to write and be recognized have it much tougher. We have an audience. An audience who demands we pander to them. Who logs onto the "web", sees that we haven't been creative, and then attacks with venomous force when we haven't added value to their lives. Damn, I'm even feeling sorry for Lindsey Lohan now. Us creative types are cursed for sure. Driven by the need to be inventive and comment on the universe...oops, Universe, we are the crutch for those who want their minds expanded via proxy. Yes, I have cast myself as the unsung hero of internet-based mental expansion.

Where am I going with this? How the hell should I know. I just finished an entire bottle of wine, accompanied by an entire internet of whine because I haven't updated my blog. I have a real job you know.

This post was supposed to be a cool hand-drawn cartoon that would have been cool except  that I can't draw worth shit. Oh, and did I mention I have a job? A real job. A job that pays me money and drains the life-force out of me. Cut me some slack. Nobody sends ME free tacos.

And have a look at this cool picture of a Costa Rican frog. Yeah, yeah, these will get better as soon as I make a trip to BevMo.

This is what you get for being demanding.

"Would you like some car insurance?"

*no spell-checker was used in the creation of this post. I can spell while being drunk. Can you?