New resolution: Blog more.

My blog has now become sporadic, slipshod, shoddy, shabby, crappy and carpy.

And poopy and scoopy and Snoopy and droopy.

And...a dog. A frog. A log. A noodle. A poodle. A doodle.

Okay, random association exercise over. (Thank you, Bob Wiley. You may sit down.) I figure that the point of consistent blogging is just that: consistency. It's not all going to be searing profundity or a slice of fried comedic gold.

Speaking of a slice of fried gold, I had a dream last night that Natalie Portman was trying to set me up with Simon Pegg. She was talking about how we were both funny and a little off and we'd be really great for each other. The encounter was going so well that I even touched Mr. Pegg's elbow in a flirty fashion. Then I woke up and realized that a) I was retarded and b) that the man I was dream-two-timing had taken the squalling boy out of our bedroom so I could get some extra sleep. Two-and-a-half hours more sleep.

I got up to make him breakfast, which he said he'd already had. So I helped myself to the same, which was a nuked-up bowl of leftover pasta and marinara sauce that had sat out on the countertop all night.

I swear some days I'm regressing.