The thing I like most about New Years Eve is picking out the sparkly dress I'm gonna wear. I particularly like the ones which are very cleavage-y. It's the one night other than Halloween, St. Patty's Day, my birthday, Easter, summer solstice, Columbus Day, Tuedays, Arbor Day and Festivus that I get to dress like a slut and not be dissed. Humpday was a fitting treat to start today - it was Puffy Chair good. The creepy stalker in the market this morning made thoughts of reclusivity more emboldened. We care but we suspect foul play when raggedy technique is being used to evoke sympathy. Bone up on the basics of succeeding as a pitiable shallow being and maybe it wouldn't create suspicion which only hinders payoffs. Karma is a priority even when caution prevails. There's always the hucklebuck when you're down and lonely and you need a helping hand. That Zildjian guy who made cymbals a symbol of climax to bad jokes lived during Ottoman Empire. He would succumb to the disconnect devices sequence in Netflix. But we endure because we love and the important thing is to keep on keepin' on. In 10 days we'll be starting fresh, make that fresher since we already start fresh. I'm not one for belaboring so 'nuf said, Ted (dedicated to Ray Chapman, wherever he is).