CPJL: A Slow, Tormented, Exceptionally Cruel Coma
Seriously, I give. I'm coming up goose eggs. It's all just too much. I think my circuits have officially been overloaded. The CPJL blog, 'tis ill. Not quite flatlining, but close. What are some Victorian era maladies? The palsy? The vapors? Whatever it is, I have them. Fiddle dee dee.
Maybe it's just a mental block. It might be my recent attempts at deafening myself with righteous rock-and-roll. Or the alcohol-induced liver problems. It might be age. It might just be indigestion. It might be COUNTLESS POSTS AND COMMENTS ON FUCKING SEERSUCKER PANTS. It might be that my corset is too tight. It might be the Scientologists. I just don't know, but I cannot write here, not right now, and not about you. You win. I am a damaged woman. I think it's your confidence. It has shattered me. If anyone needs me, I'll be in a gutter somewhere in Ledroit Park, partaking in a series of fitful alcoholic dreams about the good old days, when I was youthful and headstrong and blog-worthy. My wits are dull, my moral outrage exceptionally hazy.
Consider me on hiatus. It's a certainty I'll return, I just don't know when. Until then, I am vacating CPJL for a much-needed summer break. I wish the CPMC and their harem a good summer without my gentle, alluring, seductive, flirtatious teasing. So flirtatious. Vacation, all I ever wanted and shit. I'm like: the Belinda Carlisle of the CPJL. I'll be trying something more fun, like sticking my head in gator mouths and walking on hot coals.
Happy summertime to ye all and ye all a good night. I'll be back.
Kisses and Ponies;
P.S. If this is your child, she is exceptional and I have been looking to adopt so hook me up. Seriously. This photo comes courtesy my Best-est, Mafia-est, Bergen County-est ol' pal Diana B., who coincidentally got her fine ass engaged this weekend. Welcome to the club. Anyways, if you are somehow related to this child, or to Dee, and are mortally offended that I am posting this on this here blog, say the word and I will take it down. Until then, she haunts my dreams, in a good way, and reminds me of myself when I was a child. I have met my match, and my match is Toga Girl in Makeup. I love you, TGIM.