A man who is good for excuses is seldom good for anything else.

I know I haven't been blogging much lately, but some days just aren't worth chewing through the leather straps to get over here to my computer.  

No, seriously, our house is just nutz as usual while my social life has taken a drastic turn from nonexistent to flourishing.  

Thursday night I met Thugalicious Homeboy*'s main squeeze, Rhett Butler, at Afterwords.  It was great to gab with a fellow Mississippian and I, of course, drank too much.  We ended the night with plenty of grease and tears, as most Southerners do.  

Saturday I had lunch with Goldie - also from Mississippi, one of my sistah's besties - who was, as usual, on her rhetorical A-Game.  After checking out the sales at Urban Outfitters (lame, FYI), I trekked back to the suburbs to fake-study for several hours.  

The Butler and I went to IHOP for a later dinner Saturday night, which was the greatest decision we've ever non-made before.  After that, we watched Matchstick Men twice in a row. (Have I ever mentioned that I am obsessed with Nicholas Cage?? I am.)

Today The Butler, Coco, and I went to les bebes' ice skating lesson and then, after stopping at the house to give the dogs some good, good lovin', we saw Coraline.  Great movie.  I was totally scared.    

Ok, so that's what I've been doing while I've not been blogging.  Judge me if you will.  I can tell no lies (except the two above - can you spot them?)

* So named for his intimate knowledge of every rap song produced between 1995 and 2003.  It's truly a gift.