You ever take a crap so big...

I'm watching Letterman at the moment, so sorry ahead of time if this is totally unintelligible.

Well, although it's obviously not set in stone, I'm thinking about going back to Marist next year. I have to earn a few credits somewhere else first, though, so I'm checking out a couple community colleges and stuff for just part-time purposes. Of course, this is just a side plot kind of thing. If I get published, that's it. No more schoolin' for this youngster.

Also, the Oscars were on last night. How many of you watched it? Yeah, me neither. Let us revel in our indifference. All together now: "Who cares?"

In mental health news, I talked to my therapist today. I dunno. I think we're getting somewhere, but I'm still mighty screwed up in the head.

Ow. I just sat on my balls. Hate it when that happens. Better shift my seating position a bit.

There we go. Also, I doubt anyone cares, but I might as well tell somebody. After a lifetime of briefs, and a few years of boxer-briefs on and off (no pun intended), I have officially switched full-time to boxer shorts. It's supposed to be healthier, I guess. Probably more stylish, too, for a guy in my kind of shape. And of course, it's always nice when the boys have plenty of elbow room to hang out and do their thing. They just gotta breath, you know?

The only real downside is that it's impossible to hide it when I'm aroused. Aside from the embarrassment that can cause, it also adds an unnecessary hazard to getting on a crowded elevator.

And, with that gorgeous image set in your mind, I'm off for now. Goodnight, my love.