Oh. Um. Hello. Hello? Is this thing on?

What the hell... I have a blog? Why didn't someone tell me? Whew. It's a little dusty in here. When was the last time you cleaned this place? Wait. Don't tell me. I can tell from the mold on this... um.. whatever that is. It's been a while.

Fortunately, I've come prepared. I have been saving up scraps of pathetic excuses for a while now for just such an occasion, written on scraps of paper and the backs of old Chick-fil-a receipts.

Excuse #1: I've been busy. No. Seriously. Like mongo-busy. I don't know what the heck happened, but all of a sudden, I have like 3 less hours in my day. Who does that? Who took my hours? Why would you do such a thing? I need those hours. I've been practicing banjo less, reading less, and yes, writing less. I've also been ironing less, mumbling under my breath more, and had caffeine on an intravenous drip for the past month or so. I believe these things might be related. Except for that last thing. I've found that to just be a heck of a lot more efficient.

Excuse #2: The Boy is 2 years old now. That's reason in itself. I had forgotten what a 2 year old is like. Yeah. I knew that would get your sympathy.

Never had a 2 year old of your own? Go find a dog. Teach it to say "no" and "Choo-Choo!" on an endless loop. Now give it amphetamines and try and sit it down to put its shoes on. And don't let it get into its sisters toys, or there will be hell to pay. Also, teach it to hold a shotgun. This isn't strictly necessary, but it's cute. And cute makes up for a lot.

Oh my god. I can't believe you taught your kid to hold a gun. Even a toy gun. It's people like you that are responsible for gangs and teaching children that violence is ok. I am so calling the Massachusetts Liberal Intervention Society for an emergency hug.

I wish I could take credit for teaching him to hold it, but that's 100% pure natural talent, baby. We were at a friend's house, a friend with two older boys, and The Boy just picked up that gun and took aim.. I tried for a week to figure out how the heck he knew what to do. It's not like he's picking that stuff up on the Wonder Pets. Then one night as I sat up late at the keyboard with The Boy on my lap watching me take on a horde of Nazi Zombies in Call of Duty: World at War, I realized I might have discovered a clue.

However, I figure this is a good lesson. You can never start too early or be over-prepared for the undead.

Excuse #3: Wait a sec... I can't read this one. Oh yeah: "My dog ate my blog." Oh, no. Wait. That one's leftover from a few years ago. But it could have happened. That dog eats a lot.

Ok, whatever. My excuses suck. But they are my excuses, and I will continue to love them, even when they go bad, knock off a liquor store and smell kind of you-can't-put-your-finger-on-it-but-you-know-kind-of-off.

Now please step aside. I'm trying to sweep this thing off, and I think you've standing in something I left lying out too long.