I haven’t been slack, YOU’RE the one who’s slack.

About the same time that I started to feel all unloved and non-missed and wondering if anybody in the whole of the planet misses the Ol’ JuddHole I realized that I’d simply spilled my beer on my crotch. Once the feeling of bitter coldness worked its way out of my nether regions, I checked my email and was beseiged by the clamouring hordes to update.

So, here’s to all 7 of you. You Rock like Toohey’s New Ale on my balls.

Working now, every weekday, and it’s a bit fuckin’ crazy. I’ve now realized that being Management has nothing to do with simply getting more money for being smart and shit while still not caring. It means that the underlings can do their stupidlish things, and I get to stress about it while they pick their asses and say such profound things as “I don’t know, it should’ve worked… *wipes nose*”

Sigh. I miss the days when I picked my ass and shot Nerf Darts at my boss.

I’m all about being a father and a husband and a boss and an Aussie and all that.

And Life is So Damn Good I wanna burst.

Here’s a bit of what I been up to lately.

Two Peoples Bay, not Beast With Two Backs Bay like we did later

Went to visit that most wonderfullest of Teh Awesomestinest Sis-in-law and for Wife’s birthday I got her this beach.

I know, I know, I really shouldn’t have, but I’m all thoughty like that ‘n shit.

I be a clamdigger n shit

This is just to prove that I was there and didn’t just rip a brochure picture up and hand it to my bride for her birthday… like that shot of my junk I gave her for Valentine’s Day.

Bro-in-laws parties make me what mah shurt says. Wife hurled too, but I was fuckered up and passed out and couldnt make fun of her

Now that I’m working, we enjoy our weekends to the fullest.

They celebrate St Pattys too, but no kilts and not near enough drinking of anything green

And by “enjoy” I mean “drink Tequila til I throw up and Wife points out to me that my lip is pukeglued to the toilet seat.”

The Story of The Number Nine even started in Albany

This is a randomoddobscure reference to my other diary. The one I update. With pictures of my kids that I refuse to post here because I KNOW some of you sick fucks are waiting outside my son’s school and watching me teach him the finer aspects of the Farmer Blow and waiting to kidnap me and make me slap my buttcheeks together to the sweetsmoove rhythms of Kevin Federline (that’s for Disco, whom I’m too lazy to link yet love no less). edited: Bitch has some ballticklingly funny rappin shit, blows jizz on his face to teach Rubbers to Retards, and visits this CrapHole. He’s that fuckin’ awesome.

It may be a while before I’m in here again, and even longer until I’m bitingly sarcastic and even remotely close to anything resembling funny. I’d love to apologize for that, but that just ain’t my style. So piss off.

Love and Smooches.

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