Out from under the blankets

Boy, that was cozy. Cozy, but lonely. The next time I go and hide for a month I'm taking you all with me. Y'all. I've always wanted an accent. One night years ago Icy, Sister and I pretended to be Scottish. We were absolutely in our cups, the three of us legless drunk on Yonge Street, and it was no doubt obvious that we were not Scottish. Was that the night we traded shoes? See, I can't even remember.

Tomorrow night I'm going to see this. Wanna come with?

I very recently read this and this. You should too.

I'm very busy planning an international symposium, and I'm having a helluva time booking speakers. Every name I brought forward was met with scrinkly faces and some "ers" and "wells" and "not too sures." Now we are one month away and I have gaping holes in the agenda. Know what though? I'm not stressed. I barely even care. I've done my best, and we're only in trouble now because of the dithering and diddling of certain team members. Any of you want to come and speak at my symposium? Yes, there's free food to be had, and spiffy delegates' kits. Oh shit. The delegates' kits.