Making bad choices since 1981...

I wonder what it is about me, I never seem to learn.

Over the years I've done several stupid things, some I have a daily reminder (like that tattoo on my rib cage -- not my brightest moment), others I struggle to remember that it wasn't as rosy and delightful as my mind likes to let on (like those two years with Peaches, or those few months with the Carpenter, or the Gargoyle, the Photographer, Ace, and a host of others).

I guess then it shouldn't surprise me that once again I am a dumbass. Another bad choice, another story to tell. I better start writing these down so that with any luck at least someone (maybe my nieces) could learn something that just doesn't seem to want to sink in.

Mr. New York. What a mis-step that one was. Who goes on vacation and manages to run into a guy who lives down the street from you at home? Why couldn't I just leave that on vacation?

Now two months later things are starting to fall back into some realm of normality (well, normal for me).

Here's to another 27 years of bad choices!