Today, I am sad.

And it has nothing to do with bears or the attacks of bears. Mostly I am sad because I have been contaminated with PMS, probably from a female acquaintance. If you are unfamiliar with this disease, I will fill you in: it is a ruthless virus that makes women bleed from their souls and gives them a thirst for the blood of men.

Also it makes them cry a lot.

Somehow (life is unfair, I realize) I have contracted this horrible beast of a virus, and now I find myself doing nothing but thinking about feelings and feelings and feelings (and also food, sometimes. Oh, and booze).

Anyway, as such, I am sad.

How long will this last? Are my days numbered? Was it a good idea to leave my phone at home so as not to allow anyone to contact me? What is going to happen to me? Why is there a pig on TV?? So many unanswered questions, and with them, I begin this blog. In it, you will get to know the real me — the myth behind the man, the monster that lives deep under my metaphorical bed.