How to Make Me Happy

Jokes work, so do drinks. Noticing my hair. Fabulous texts...ok, I won't go there.

I've just come back from my local convenience store. They know me so well in there, bouncing in pissed to get full fat milk, Red Bull and white wine. The lady behind the counter leaned forward and said "you've lost weight" and I would have kissed her if she wasn't 3 feet away, separated by every confectionery product on the planet.

Is it just me, or is everyone blogging these days rather more mellow than usual?

There's a new post up at Iowahawk. Here's the first paragraph:

"Once upon a time in the postwar, before the advent of EPA and OSHA and the Consumer Products Safety Commission and weenies in bike helmets and multilingual warning stickers on stepladders, crazy people walked this earth. Good, fun-loving Americans who knew that "instructions" were something you threw in the trash along with the empty Falstaff bottles. A halcyon era filled with manly men who savored the wholesome virtues of a rugged game of un-seatbelted automotive chicken."

Read the whole thing, it's bonkers but fab.