Times they are strange and I won't rearrange

I did more driving yesterday than I would have preferred. At work, Marcy told me one of us would have to go to the Rockingham registry in the afternoon. I told her I was going to my parent's house after work, which is in the opposite direction, and would be grateful to forgo the trip to the registry. Turned out, despite the fact that she lives close to the registry, Marcy wasn't able to go in my stead. I went and for a while my mood was foul, but I got over it and realized it wasn't such a trying ordeal.

Later, at my parent's house, we had a nice chicken dinner and some cake for dessert. It had been a few weeks since I'd seen them last and it was nice seeing them. Also bittersweet, as it tends to be these days, as we all get older and time runs out. I am more concerned with my parent's health these days. I fear losing them, but it will happen, whether they pass before me or vice versa. More and more my past feels like a dream. Last night, I sat at my parent's computer and thought about how the room in which I sat used to my bed room, from when I was still in swaddling clothes all the way up through high school. I grew up in that room, but, sitting there, I felt little association with it. The shore of the past grows tinier and tinier as I drift out to sea. I become untethered from what I knew.
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I have to get cracking and get a set of songs assembled for next week's show. I'm hoping to have a new batch completed and ready to go by then. Got to bring my A-game for this one; it's going to be broadcast on the radio to perhaps tens of listeners (I kid. Could be tens, could be hundreds. I'm ill-informed on this matter. I'll find out at some point.). Anyway, I'm looking forward to it.

Look, I'm not going to lie to you: I'd like to get laid sometime soon. I'm just putting it out there, mostly because I've been, how should I say, rather horny lately. Call me crass, I don't care. It's a basic human need and basically, I need a little sumpin' sumpin'. I worry that if I go to long without, I may end up becoming far less discerning than I normally would be. And that outcome, my friends, is fraught with trouble. I guess there's nothing for it but to explore the prostitute option. I'm kidding......or am I? Hmm..... I have five bucks, I wonder how far that will get me. Maybe a hand shake. Better than nothing.

So, half of Canada wants to see Zdeno Chara put in shackles and, I don't know, put in front of a firing squad or hung from the neck, for his most terrible crime against humanity. To wit:



True story. After the game the other night, callers flooded Montreal's version of 911 with demands that Chara be arrested. Now, while the hit was a nasty one, is arresting the perpetrator perhaps a tad excessive? What a world we inhabit. If you ask me, I think Chara should be drawn and quartered in front of every person who cried for his head. Only then will they learn how unreasonable they all were. Either that, or their blood lust will be sated and they'll feel pretty good about themselves.

I found out that my five year old niece, Colleen, has been adding an exclamation point to her name every time she writes it. My sister asked her about it and she said, "I wanted my name to have eight letters." Cute, right? That is, once you overlook the fact that an exclamation point is not a letter (silly child). I'm going to steal her idea, but for a different reason: I want my to look exciting. Kevin!

Alright, Kevin! out this piece, y'all.