Whine and cheese

I'm punchy, I'm tired, I'm in my bathrobe...that's always a dangerous combination. Work is ramping up for perhaps our most hectic (scheduled) time of the year for my division. Christmas is usually an incidental blur for us. This picture is a fair representation of how my nerves feel right now:



Click on pic and view large in Flickr to truly appreciate the brain damage.

I anticipate a lot of very long shifts in the next month, which can mean one of two things for the Cotillion: it will either inspire me to the most brilliant writing of my life, or you will scratch your heads for several weeks at my incoherent postings. Either way, I shall endeavor to torment you with the same regularity to which you have become accustomed. Just promise me that if I surface with a desparate plea for crab legs, someone will find a way to smuggle them to me. Same goes for margaritas, tranquilizer darts, and Massengill.

Now, on to tonight's business: It has come to my attention that people are finding their way to my humbly odiferous Cotillion tonight looking for a "deranged person" and/or "fucking nut job" because somebody identified me as such with links. But now that you've found your way here, I hate to dash your expectations like retarded seagulls against the rocks. So here you go:



Always glad to oblige.