Do you, like, know, like, how annoying it is to, like, listen to you, like, talk so loudly on your, like, cell phone and go on and on about, like, that video shoot? You know? And, like, okay, so, like,…

Anyway… For those of you who have a hankering for nostalgia and the Web That Was, or if you’re simply new to my blathering and are wondering how long I have been doing it and whether or not past prognostications…

I am just returned from a late morning breakfast at a local crepery — and what is it with all the creperies in San Francisco anyway? Who said we were all starving for crepes? — where I was sitting at…

I’m contemplating all this while picturing her going Postal, pulling out a shiv and plunging into my back, between my shoulders, as I stand at my kitchen sink trying feverishly to wash her fruit off while she screams “No! No! With your hose and faucet! Use your hose and faucet!” and I am sweating and shaking and say, quietly, “Is that a euphemism for something? Is this sexual?” “Your hose and faucet! Your hose and faucet!”

Opening my inbox this morning, I was greeted with the following subject line in a message from our good friendsthe annoying pests at Classmates.com: Time for the West High School Class of 1980 25-Year Reunion, Lance! Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck…

“Hey! Hey!” She calls out loudly behind me. I am intent on looking at the Asian women’s shoes, which are remarkably ugly. “Hey, isn’t that sick?”

Anyway, I drank too much vodka, I flashed my privates at a tranny who wanted to see them, I tried to come on to one of my oldest friends and I woke up the next day feeling absolutely dreadful — so as far as I’m concerned the party was a fantastic success and I think everyone had a great time.

As I walked up to the bank of ATMs, one of them was already beeping at me. There was another gentleman using the one to its left and I grabbed a deposit envelope and approached it. There in its money…