Now I’m seriously pissed. I spent about a half an hour updating this stupid blog which no one reads but me anyway, and then Blogger lost the frigging thing! And there is no way on God’s green earth that I can remember everything I put down. Nor do I want to start typing it over. Remember, I have to work for a living. It’s a good thing this is a hobby and not my job, or I would have been out looking for employment elsewhere a LONG time ago.
Well, got that off my chest. (Ouch! Oooh! Yow! Pulling chest hairs! Yikes!) Yep, that’s me, Steve of the Apemen. My father used to tell me that when they brought me out of the delivery room (remember, children, back in the Dark Ages they didn’t LET the fathers in the same room where the mothers delivered), he couldn’t decide to hold me in his arms or give me a peanut. Real ego-boosting material, eh? At least it keeps the boys busy at times; when they get bored, I let them braid the hair on my back. That keeps them occupied for at least an hour or so.
ET: That’s disgusting!
ET: Hair on your back?
Yeah, so what? You want me to shave it? Hell, I can’t even SEE it.
ET: Yeah, but everyone else can.
Well, bubba, that’s their problem, not mine.
ET: Doesn’t it bother you?
Only the fact that it makes it hard for people to believe that I’m part Amerindian. Other than that, no.
ET: Well, it should!
It doesn’t. Look, go talk to Zod
or something, I’m busy.