Why hello dear

Hi again old friends!

I'm sitting home on a Saturday night half watching The Man Who Fell To Earth. Please don't judge. I'm sick of hearing about how much you hate David Bowie la la la. This movie gave me night terrors when I was wee (along with Liquid Sky) and I decided to see if it was actually scary, now that I'm a grown up and all. I couldn't remember what was so traumatizing until now, but it was the removal of Bowie's human contacts that revealed horrifying alien eyeballs underneath. The plot is impressively grim but its p-retty cool otherwise.

Anyhow, I've missed you. I've missed telling you stories, bitching about people behind their backs, showing you pictures of my friends, and receiving hate comments from strangers.

For those of you who are new to the blog, I moved over to Uber for awhile. Ted Barrow, Nate Turbow, Ramona Sidlo and myself had a fun little run over there. Uber paid me to switch to their service, but they went out of business soon after and I lost most of those old entries. Some of my favorite stories are gone forever and you'll never get to read them. Sniff.

Anyhow, I'm back here now and its not as pretty, so if anyone out there is crafty with HTML and wants to help me snazz up my blog please email me! If you're not crazy you can come over to Chez Veevers and I will make you soup while you give this thing a boob job.

What's new? ALOTTASHIT happened since the last time I posted. Our friend the Mad Masturbator** moved out from the apartment opposite mine, and a hot new guy who likes to lift things in his undies moved in. My other hairless, eyebrowless, and undesirably pallid neighbor on the other side recently decided to close his bathroom window so I no longer have to peak directly into his bowl when I brush my teeth in the morning. He lives adjacent to me, but one floor below so our bathroom windows are aligned in the most unfortunate way. Not too long ago I heard a struggling moan and thoughtlessly looked outside and downward only to see his naked, turgid body birthing a shit the likes of which I can't imagine. Not only was I so physically revolted I almost fell backwards into the bathtub, but the image is so vividly etched into my brain, I'm positive that during the last moments before death it will flash through my helpless, cancer-ridden mind.

What else has been happening? Not much. If you are a good friend and/or die-hard fan and/or wish you were my boyfriend and/or are my boyfriend at the moment, you will go pick up a copy of Plastique magazine because I am in it.

Goodnight folks.


** I posted about him back in January under the "Catch Up" entry, but for some reason I can't link you to the post. If you want to see live nude pictures of my disgusting and apparently insatiable neighbor doing what he does best, all day long, and every night, every time I look out my window, with the shades open... then you should go look at that entry.