“Pop. Six. Squish. Uh uh. Cicero. Lipschitz.”

Normally with people I like/love/respect, I’m very, “I’m not gonna diss you on the Internet, ’cause my mama taught me better than that.” It’s part of why I don’t talk much about my ex, because he’s still one of my best friends and I don’t need to air those issues publicly. My close friends and my therapist have heard it, and that’s enough. (Plus, if I ever said anything here that got back to him and hurt him, I’d jump out a window. [I know. Hence the therapist.])

But OTHER than him, we’re all OK with me being kind of an asshole on my own site on occasion, right? We know I’m a little insane but generally a nice human, except when I get pushed too far? Because tempers are gettin’ a little Jersey up in here at Smug HQ — people are stepping to my backyard swagger. So, um…fair warning, sometimes I’m an asshole, but generally only in writing. (And in my defense, it really does take a lot. I mean…they had it comin’…)

(I love that I’m clarifying as if any of you gives a dick if I’m not Gandhi.)

My friends discriminate!

Have developed two social media crushes in one evening.

You people have been holding out on me with your hot friends, what the hell? Is it because I’m insane? Whatever, man, send me That Guy — we’ll be bored of each other in a month, so he won’t have to deal with anything except my overwhelming need to lick his tattoos.

(Ahem. I may be drunk blogging.)