I have paint on my elbow.
I have a couple of things to finish writing.
Working on a few fundraiser shows in the spring culminating with a fundraiser for a little boy in South Carolina.
Speaking of which, you should check out comedforcauses.com. My friend, Laniea (don't call her lanyard) does some amazing stuff.
The dog is looking at me like he has to poop.
My head is congested. Paint fumes from last night, I think.
Last night I crashed around 9 o'clock. It was a sweet sleep.
I almost bought a house once before in my life. I backed out when it failed many, many points of the inspection. Good thing or I would have been stuck in Ohio. But it would have been an awesome bachelor pad right on Portage Lake. But it would have been in Ohio.
I also gave some thought to buying one of the many, many houses I grew up in. It was the last house my Uncle Charlie lived in. For a time I lived with him when I got to be too much for my old man. I didn't buy it. That was back in '99. It was for sale again when I left California for Florida.
Dexter needs to poop.
It's a weird thing, suicide. It's like you decide, okay, this is where my story ends. And then the rest of the world you built get...
A lot of you have asked what happened that made me want to drink during the tour. Well, I didn't want to write about it because I didn...