One: I’m going to be an auntie.

Two: My brother got married.

Okay. That is the order I recieved the news in, and just about as abruptly. They got married a couple of weeks after they told us they were having a kid. “They” being my brother and his girlfriend, er, wife.

I’m rather confused, and keep hearing the Twilight Zone theme at random moments.

I keep waiting for someone to yell, “You’re on Candid Camera!”

I wonder if I’m going to wake up and find out it’s all a dream, and kinda hope not because I like the idea of being an auntie and having Cindy for a sister-in-law.

So if it turns out to be reality, and not some hallucinogenic fungus I ate, then cheers! to the happy couple. May their marriage be awesome and the kid be a healthy little maniac.

Now to see if aliens landed in the backyard.

I’ve come to the sad realization that I no longer have adventures. I get up, go to work, come home. On my time off, I might read, watch TV, or see a movie.

WHAT HAS HAPPENED?!

I have nothing interesting to say anymore. All I have is pathetic reminises of all the neat stuff I used to do. What the fuck.

The real bummer is I don’t believe that one can go out with the intent to have a crazy adventure (unless you’re in a road movie). Weird cool shit just sort of happens.

But there is something I can do. I can get off of my lazy ass, break out of my goddamn routine and friggen do something. Anything. Drive around the island. Talk to tourists. Eat at crappy little hole-in-the-walls that are about as far away from Taco Bell as you can get.

It’s time for an adventure. I’m going to Chinatown.

Dan you pimp.  If you didn’t turn me on so much, I could take offense.  Or something.  Yeah.

Smooches.

No, she’s still MIA, but I live. And I’m hacking her blog for a PSA:

Weblog Design Studios is HIRING »

If Wired knew how to code, she would so be kidnapped and enslaved put to work for me. *sigh*

Anyway, if you or someone you know can make pretty designs and code them from blogs, come visit us.

And…maybe Wired will post in another 6 months.

PS: I’m still hijacking blogs. You have been warned!

Griff sightings have since become something of a myth. I think El Chupacabra has been seen more than our dear, violent wookie has in recent years.

So imagine my shock when this unshaven, sleeveless dude wearing hideous shoes starts yelling at me in the middle of Safeway.

No way. No. Way.

Way.

When my stupor subsided, I pounced on the elusive bastard and called him a motherfuckersonofabitch. He hugged me back, cackling madly–I knew in an instant that where ever life had taken Griff, he was still the man I loved…

…to torture.

Dear, dear, Griff. Now that you’ve come out of hiding, let the fucked up-ahem-good times roll again.

Welcome back, bro.