I’ve turned to drugs and alcohol to ease my suffering, so it hasn’t been all bad.

“I dinna cry when me own father was hung for stealing a pig. But I’ll cry now.”

I am also a reader on drugs (marijuana, specifically, and I’m so high that I’m too paranoid to leave my usual posting name). And yet, I *am* sad that the management has abandoned us. Does anyone else feel dumped?

He is Conan, Cimmerian. He will not cry. So I cry for him.

Actually, it’s not so bad. It’s still the same burny feeling.

Meh, you get dumped four or five times a week, you get used to it.

Why it’s terrifying and disorienting!

I guess I’ll have to eat mass quantities of chocolate and drink gallons of wine to survive.

Quelle horreur!

-I guess I’ll have to eat mass quantities of chocolate and drink gallons of wine to survive.

Ah, story of my life.

Tell me anyone, I haven’t been able to post at Atrios’ since the election. Anyone else have this problem?

Lost. Forced to wander Clownhall on my own. Thinking of re-naming my dog after one of the children of America’s Worst Mother(TM). Please come back soon, so this madness will stop.

At night now, I just sit in my darkened den, staring out at all the beautiful Christmas lights and ornaments that my much more enthusiastic neighbors have put up. But I have begun to tire of this, so Monday morning I am going to city hall to complain about this outrageous assault on my freedom of religion and insist that my neighbors be forced to unstring those damn lights and dismantle those damn wire reindeer and deflate those giant balloon snowmen. That should cheer me up.

I went “outside” for awhile. It was very weird.

Seb-ferstaendlisch…

Dieser holzkopf heir bekommen…

nicht.

Ach! Mein Fuss!

It’s a lot like singing The Banana Boat Song to yourself 115,200 times in a row. For me, anyway.

I too am in the midst of an enervating song and am up to 29,804,625 Patties of Hamburgers on the Wall – in my song, that is.

Are you going to change the name of your blog to Sadly, Humbug! — ?

I feel very abandoned, unRaptured, Left Behind. If you don’t come back soon, snarky and all, I might have to give myself to the nearest Freaks for Jesus Church. At the very least, they would provide *some* comic relief.

It’s like a puzzle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a mystery, with some delicious nougat in the center. Only in a BAD way.

Hmmmmm, bad nougat.

YAWN!

It’s getting right boring.

Where are you?

I was going to stop by and leave a sarcastic comment, but I still feel bad from the last time I did that.
Sorry again, Pete.
Oh, and also the drug and alcohol thing, I did that too instead.

mmmm, damn good espresso! makes me forget my addiction to world-connected-via-snarkishness for a moment!

This is all a big shakedown, isn’t it? And nobody’s offering the requisite bribe.
OK, fine: you may now sleep with me, just bring back SN!

p.s. I hazard a guess that neither of us will enjoy it, but go ahead anyway…

Just how often does S.N. move and change jobs? Here’s a hint – pay the rent and you won’t get evicted so often.

You’re a trooper, Mr Heydave.

Actually, I’ve been enjoying it.