I start everyday off with a strong enough cup of coffee to convince myself that I can get up and put my big boy pants on. Of course, that takes a couple other cups of N.A. strength Joe, to get to the pants wearing, and out the door mode.

I've been fortunate enough to have had long spells in my life where I only knew what day it was based on if it were in fact Taco Tuesday or how many tacos I had left?!? I'm not kidding at all, flatlanders wouldn't understand NorCal Hill folk know what I'm talmbout. In those days I'd actually drink so much yerba mate that I'd ensure the necessary come down noon beer.

What can I say, I've lived a blessed existence. I'm now humbled by ownership of a 9-5 money-frieday gig so I too think about making lists of important stuff to accomplish, but it never happens. I can't hardly find the time to squeeze out the satifaction of a shitpost. Well, it's time to grab life by the bum gun and make my .005 USD and put my pants on.

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