Tales of a Shrink

Regular readers of my blog (poor, long-suffering people) will probably have noticed that I have not been posting as regularly as I once did. And, you may have further noticed that the quality of those posts has also decreased, in so much as that was even possible considering how low I had set the bar previously.

There is an excellent reason for this. I have become increasingly busy in my non-internet-based life, and therefore I had to make a choice as to how I was going to handle the blog. I'm still enough of a narcissist to believe that my semi-comprehensible ramblings are of interest to the world, and I'd like to cling to that delusion for as long as possible, so I will continue to produce posts.

I know that my readers visit this site for a variety of reasons. There are those who need something to do when on hold; there are those who are compelled by court-ordered protective services agreements; there are those former and future clients; there are my friends and relations who know I will ask them incessantly "Did you read my blog?"

For all of you, I feel I owe you this fair warning: In the future, Tales of a Shrink will likely suck even more than previously. You can expect very short, pointless posts like this one:

I hate it when people use the word "me" when the mean to use the word "my." I think people believe that it's sexy or tough. Similarly, I hate it when gay men describe themselves as "skinheads" because they think it's hot. Yeah, because my sexual fantasy includes having a heroin-addict-scrawny, 1980-something British guy with bad teeth and no hair yelling "Oi!" at me, his breath stinking of crappy English piss-beer. Oh yeah, sign me up for two of those.

You see what I'm talking about?

You've been warned.

(Oh, and no fear... I will keep the hot guys coming, as well as the culture that no one ever reads. Well, except for this Friday, when I will be out of town.)