Never Trust A Naked Bus Driver,
Even If He's Your Baby's Daddy

I'm in a funk. A February Funk. Wil Wheaton won't acknowledge that he's my baby's daddy, my monkey is sick, I have a feeling there were tiny shards of glass in my orange juice that are probably cutting up my vital organs right this very instant, last night I dreamt that I had been chosen to head up NASA's mission to Pluto, but just as I was about to board the space shuttle I got arrested for stealing a Jimmy Neutron watch, did I mention my monkey is sick, I may have given myself a concussion last night, and my soul never came home from the bar the other night, so really I have no reason to go on.
Except for the faint glimmer of hope that someone, somewhere will set the Hallmark Blushing Bears free from their little Hallmark Blushing Bear Labor Camps and they will all be on my doorstep in the morning. There's always that. And this...
Tag, you're it.