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It's past midnight and I'm sitting here eating the remants of three-day old chicken-fried rice cause it's easy and yummy and I'm drunk and I don't want to go to bed, but I sure as hell don't want to play poker any more. In fact, I didn't want to play poker at all tonight. I kept my day and night open, hoping for a rendevouz with a certain person of the female persuasion instead of booking alternate means of entertainment on my first non-AJ Saturday of the new custody schedule. I did not do this because I'm a big fat pussy. I did this because I wanted to see her, but she was too tired and too busy fresh off a recent business trip and goddamn if I didn't fall into large-to-extra-large infatuation with someone who likes to sleep more than I do and is loathe to give up that sleep for face time with someone as handsome and charming as myself.

All of which resulted in me having to drink those 12 beers all by myself and play poker in three MTTs, 'cause what else am I gonna do, and busting out of all three because I get so excited when I get a hand, at least until some a-hole draws out on me or my pocket pair is just slightly worse than the other guy's pocket pair or a marginally functional retard calls my pre-flop raise out of position with K7s when I have aces and flops a boat.

All of which contributes to me being here...at this hour. Too buzzed to sleep. Too manic to read. Too...okay, I'll say it...distracted to watch porn.

Alright...enough of that. Had a cigarette. I feel better. How about maximum cuteness:



AJ looks pretty cute there, too. Haha. See what I did there? In comedic parlance, it's called the Inverted Premise or the Cincinnati Bow Tie or something like that. Anyway, that brings me to a point:

I've been trying to write a post for weeks. It's important and I've come at it from every angle, used every literary device at my disposal, foreshadowing, thematic shading, the Dirty Sanchez. But I can't get it out. It's TOO HUGE. Which is retarded, because it's also really simple.

That boy...the boy in the picture up there...he's my life. There are no words I can find to describe the depth of love I have for him. Every one of you reading this has someone--multiple someones--about whom you feel the same. Do they know this? I bet you assume they do. DON'T. Make certain they know. Make certain with your every word and deed. Because maybe they wonder. Maybe those feelings you have for them, which you consider a given, aren't quite reaching them. Make sure. Now. Or you might find yourself at one in the morning in an empty apartment, making little or no sense on the internet.

And who wants that?