I'll take the camelopard.

Hey, you know what's not a brilliant idea? Living in a bloody motel during PEAK TOURIST SEASON. Especially if you have any sort of an accent. If one more person asks me how long I'm staying in the States, I am going to bludgeon someone with my pipe.

My fellow inmates motel guests seem very fond of bass music. Especially early in the morning. I didn't want to provoke them or awaken any angry spirits or anything, though. So I just danced.

I may never need coffee again!

I turned 40 last week without any pomp and circumstance. I suppose there would have been a great deal more of that if I hadn't been ready to turn 40 ever since I turned 30. It doesn't sound remarkable at all. That is, until I start to really think about it. 4 decades of me. Creeping along to half a century of Greg Carlisle.

Sort of related to this: I need to get back to illustrating books.

Well. I don't play/watch sport. And I'm not sick. And I'm not engaged. And I'm not an actress.

I didn't even save 15% or more on my car insurance by switching to Geico, or stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night.

I guess I'm too damn boring for this town. I'm surprised you let me live here.

1. What is with all of the lists on here now?

2. I'm feeling left out.

3. I call this a "pointlist".

4. I forgot what I actually wanted to say.

I feel like this Christmas thingie just happened. That's not fair! I feel less and less ready for it, each year. Maybe it would be more exciting or mean more for me if I had kids, but. Don't see that happening. I suppose I could visit the schools and see their pageants and things, but that might even be illegal. A strange man showing up. Especially because I have an uncontrollable grin, most of the time. Just not right. Unsettling.

Speaking of pointless segues, what's the skiing like round here? Some tourists were raving about it. I wanna know the truth.