Sometimes you eat the bear. Sometimes the bear eats you.
Sometimes you meet in the middle for hours upon hours of tedious negotiations. Yep, door number three, that was my day.
So kiddies, you will forgive me for not writing last night. And for leaving this post that borders somewhere on the periphery of the mentally unfit. (a little place I call my playground almost every friday night these days).
Not unlike those little spongey capsules that turn into animals and circus characters when you add water that my kids used to love so much, I will add a little vodka to this twisted little mind and hope it springs back to something acceptable by the AM.