Grand Opening

I'm picturing my triumphant return to blogging like a grandiose opera singer who bursts into the room and startles everyone with his booming baritone.
In actuality, I feel kind of sheepish, like an awkward twelve-year-old scuffing the floor with his tennis sneakers and picking at imaginary sediment on his V-neck sweater.

Anyway, lets talk about what's on my mind right now.

1)I just ate a godawful poppy seed muffin that made my mouth feel gummy and ripe. For some reason the dumb muffin made it hard to drink water so I think I'm dying of thirst. Hand on brow, face up to the sky, just looking for some sort of relief.

2)I'm really starting to hate smoking. I think we can all agree, this is a good sign. Unfortunately the medication makes me unable to sleep more than four or five hours a night. This in turn makes it difficult to control what I say (Edithved called me the Accidental Blurtist) and easy to snap at my friends and girlfriend. I hope I've made enough funny jokes in the past to earn a couple weeks of repeated forgiveness.

3)I forgot to mention, Frank the Barber gave me kind of a sub-par haircut, too short to be badass but too long to be well-kept.

4)I just spied on the lonely Internet girl who sits like a zombie in a clean and depressing parlor, night after night after night. I always picture she's visiting Match.com and buying cheap shiny baubles with her meager savings. What's wrong with me? I mean, I'm sitting writing this in the dark at one in the morning, with half a poppyseed muffin and my hair all akimbo. They should invent a saying about not judging your neighbors...

5)I just frightened myself with this grisly thought: why don't more killers burn their victims' corpses? Wouldn't it be a lot easier to scatter ashes than to find a hiding place where pre-teens and dogs won't prowl? Hm, maybe bodies need to burn really hot because of all the fluids inside. Unless you drained...I don't think I want to talk about this anymore. It's probably good that Six Feet Under is over.