I said I would finish the book by end of February and, while it has yet to come to fruition, I am still struggling along and finally set to plow into the final countdown (cue Gob Bluth theme music…)
As usual, Life constantly intrudes, laziness precludes and plain ol’ procrastination denudes… My littlest Dude has had three – count em’ – THREE first birthday parties this month… not to mention car trouble, money trouble, double trouble, hubba bubble and the steady increase of chronic bitchiness in that useless excuse of a right leg. Of course, as Our Saint of Holy Euphemisms puts it:
“Pain or damage don’t end the world. Or despair or fucking beatings. The world ends when you’re dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man… and give some back.”
That Al Swearengen, he was an erudite cocksucker.
Still. I am in the home stretch and 2.5 days to go. Who knows what damage I can do to poor old Moss Cole in that time. Although I did just finish a scene where our intrepid antihero finally got to dish out a little abuse of his own via Tazer electrodes to the ballsack. I leave you with that and return to my labors. Catch you on the flipside, bastardes.