Free at last, Free at last, Thank God Almighty, I'm Free at last.

Killer, giddy from lack of sleep.

I have finished my self inflicted work schedule and now can recuperate with three weeks off work. Why do I have three weeks off? I am going to Mississippi to see my new nephew. Soon I will be influencing the life of a small child, and since he is related, I don't have to first tell my parole officer.

I have been seriously lacking in the posting department, and as promised, I will start off my return to blogging glory by finally answering EEK's tag from over a week ago.

Five Things You Really Don't Want to Know About Me
(but won't have the common sense to stop now, even after being warned)

1. I'm a polyorchid. That means I have more than one testicle. I have three to be exact. If you wondered why I talk about balls so much, that is it. Usually the doctors would remove the extra one shortly after puberty, but my parents could not get the day off work, so I kept it. I don't mind really because, if I get testicular cancer, I have one to spare, and that is important because my risk is increased by one third.

2. I never go on blind dates because everyone wants to fix me up with their overweight friend. It doesn't matter if we have nothing in common. It's just natural that we would both be so desperate we should cling together for our one shot at marriage. Fat people in love is so cute. I hate you skinny bastards.

3. I still can not eat the last pickle in the jar. It is a mental block, an irrational fear. That pickle was rejected on every other occasion. Hence it is my conclusion that this lone gherkin is gorged with bad karma. I don't need to ingest any extra bad karma.

4. I don't really take anything serious. If you tell me something, or if I see something on the news, I will subconsciously start making fun of it. Celebrity deaths, handicapped people, no subject is taboo. It really is an uncontrollable trait. The Anesthesiologist who did my surgery told me that when I was still partially sedated, and they removed my breathing tube, he told me to say something. I don't remember saying it but according to him my first words were, "Did you see that cat?" Him and the other staff looked concerned and he replied, "What cat?" "That cat who snuck in here and took a shit in my mouth."

5. Roughly 25% of everything I say is grossly exaggerated. For example, if I say I have three testicles I really only have one. One great big one, that I part down the middle to look like two.