Prozac, Poinsettias and Penis

She blogs! She blogs!
I promise, she won't sing.

Sooooo, I was depressed for a while. (Send one of your children off to a war-zone, again, and see how YOU feel.) After a few mornings of "coming-to" as opposed to waking up, I decided it best to drag my happy ass off to ye ole witch doktor for some good ole anti-depressants.(Yes, I SUK! I needa crutch. Fuck you.) For the second time in my life, Prozac has been a godsend. Give that shit ten days, accompanied by some of my vundermous confectionaries, and I'm back to my "Happy,happy, joy,joy" (if not slightly sarcastic), old ways.

The house is decorated. The tree is up. Poinsettias are perched on the porch, at the end of the drive (for that BITCH that delivers my mail....GOTTA be nice to her.), next to the fireplace, and on the main counter in the kitchen. Thousands of lights festoon the coonass crib. Yes, Imma light-hangin' fool! "Google Earth" the armpit-of-hell town I live in, and you too can have your corneas scorched from hundreds of miles away! Get wiff tha season, dammit! I have.

Oh, and I'm gettin' dick. Regular-like. Don't hate.

I'm back.
More soon.