One of the nice things about my job is it keeps me off the streets (much to the delight of society) and neck-deep in cheap beer. The not-so-nice thing is that on occasion, I am plucked rather suddenly from my everyday life and sent to far-flung, exotic locations like Newark, Kansas City and Chesterbump, IL (an actual place; look it up).
Yesterday, I was thusly plucked, given my marching orders and pointed toward a plane. So here I sit, miles from the comfort of home and Jerry Remy, with a packed week ahead that will keep me from giving Surviving Grady the attention it deserves.
So with that, I am handing the keys to Denton, who will be your host until I return in about a week–or perhaps sooner, if the gods of business choose to smile upon me. I am certain you will be safe in his hands, although the fact that I’m checking in now and he hasn’t seen fit to put up a Saturday post might raise a red flag as to the amount of new material you’ll be getting during the week ahead (I kid. I’m sure it’s just a tie-up with his parole officer.)
Besides keeping me from my bed for a week, this trip has also caused me to miss a farewell celebration for Bridget–AKA Trot’s Hat in the comments section–who is shipping out to London. Our loss is the UK’s gain, and we wish her safe and happy travels.
Peace, love and f@#k Giambi.
