Happy Holidaze

Ah, Christmas – the one season when I get to make like a high school wrestler and eat everything in sight. So last weekend, against the will of my friends, family and – I’m guessing – God Himself (the Man upstairs, not God Himself of Wilmington, Virgina, who really needs to change his name one of these days), I went ahead and consumed my body weight in raw cookie dough, then...

B-day B-log

Hey there, bloggy. Look at that – another two weeks of neglect. If I don’t watch it, you’re going to suffer the same terrible fate as every houseplant I’ve ever owned, not to mention Fido’s one through seven. Rest in peace, you brave little guys – I hope you’re fetching slippers for God now. The dogs, I mean. Not the plants. Although you have to admit, that would be...