Destination Happy Place (a.k.a. Justin Timberlake’s Lap)

I've officially achieved a whole new level of crabby. Rocco:  Good morning, beautiful. Me:  Fuck you. I can't decide if it's day seven of consecutive overcast skies, hormones, delayed moving dates, aching joints, tornadoes, an impending visit with Aloysius, the lack of floating people on Saturday, my failed hard drive,…

I’m Still A Fifteen Year Old Boy

While I'm fairly certain I already reserved my spot in Hell many years ago, today's Craftastrophe post pretty much guarantees my VIP pass for an eternity of Rod Stewart concerts.  Awesome. I got a haircut, Interwebz.   More on the actual cutting tomorrow, but first I need to get something off…