If there were a good day to have a direct-brain interface developed by humankind, this would be the day.    Plug me in, Scotty, and brace yerself, Effie.

Really.    If I could jack my brain into an HDMI cable into that fancy-ass flatscreen you have in the living room, I could keep you entertained for hours.

Alas, alack.   Thine life doth assail me so.   Work, preparations for a party, sideline projects, sleeping — you know, anything to keep our mind off having fun.

We rely so much on our favorite writers pumping out quality content regularly — you get to know someone from their regular postings and goings-on, much like a favorite newspaper column or coworker who always stops by on Tuesdays to talk about her bar hopping.    We are creatures of habit, routine, and morning lattes.

And here I am, ruining your routine.    Well, so be it — I’m the sugar cube that just won’t dissolve.      All up in yours coffeez, gummin’ up yer mug.

I’d end in a haiku, but that’d be predictable — how about a jaunty pair of boobies?   (.)  (.)

No?   Well, it’s one of those swing-and-a-miss sorts of days.