The Facebook page is up so I think Zuckerberg is crying somewhere into a bag of cash. He’s probably swimming in it. That makes me think of one of my favorite shows as a kid, Duck Tales. I could sing the entire theme song right now if you asked me to.


Lots of questions to ask about that show like those duck-kids Huey, Luey, etc…where was the mom? Was Scrooge McDuck the grandfather and took care of them like Henry did in Punky Brewster? I don’t know but the man duck literally dove into gold coins for fun. Just dove head-first into them and never got hurt. That’s how I imagine Zuckerberg swimming in a giant pool of our tears.


Speaking of a show with questions, MAKING A MOTHER-BLEEPING MURDERER. FREE STEVE AVERY. No, not the Steve Avery that pitched for the Braves. The Steven Avery that didn’t own a pair of underwear. I don’t want to give anything away but just go watch it. I’ve been pushing this series on my friends to the point where quite frankly, I sound desperate. How many Youtube videos and articles can I watch/read before I NEED TO TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT IT.

Today at school, a student just randomly came up to me and said,

“You should drive a motorcycle.”

One of the more random things I’ve heard in a while but what made it so strange was I was wearing my one and only cardigan sweater. My school is cold because of heat issues and that sweater feels like a goddamn magical snuggie so I don’t care how metro it looks. I just don’t know what about me screamed ‘motorcycle’ to that chubby 8th grader. Sure, he has some mental health issues but maybe he sees something in me that I can’t see. They do say children can tap into the spirit of ghosts so maybe he has senses some badass part of me I don’t even know exists? I crashed a short bus once on a school field trip so I’m pretttyyy sure I can’t handle a Harley. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I used to drive this:


My girlfriend more or less told me that if she had met me during my van era I’d still be single. I’m not ashamed of ole blue and NEVER WILL BE. When my grandfather had Alzheimers all he could remember in the end was that I stole his van. It was awful. And if you’re wondering why my van is parked on all grass it’s because my friend Dave parked it there during a party at his house. About an acre of land and he plops my van there like it’s a freaking yard sale for soccer moms. I was passed out–naturally–so I couldn’t put a stop to such debauchery.

Speaking of this friend who did bad things to me, we just booked a trip to San Fran for the Superbowl. This marks the second year of what will be a tradition til one of us has a child and our lives are over. We went to Arizona last year and it was one hell of a time. My girlfriend isn’t coming this time and Dave doesn’t do well unsupervised. Just need the Patriots to make it or he’s going to end up dead in Big Sur somewhere, wearing a Gronk jersey.

Stay tuned for the uplifting blog(s) coming up on addiction. I can’t tell if there’s a lot of interest in the subject or if all my friends want to get nostalgic about rehab. Either way, spread the word on The Tub and ‘like’ it and what not. It boosts morale and helps me on days I don’t soak.