I have been accused (by the HMFIC at the gym, who doesn’t seem to get it) that my blog is self indulgent crap. I’m afraid that he’s forgotten that that’s the definition of blog:

blog (n), \ˈblȯg, ˈbläg\
Definition: self-indulgent crap; an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page; also called Weblog, Web log

See? And what else would I write about? Even if I was making $1,000,000 per episode of Friends like Jennifer Aniston, I’d probably still write about myself. Hell, she can’t seem to get enough of herself so why should I be any different? Of course I might pay someone else to do it, but how would you know? This may actually be outsourced to someone in a some obscure country, say Vanuatu. Perhaps they have apples there.

So if you’re tired of reading about how everything seems to be going in the toilet for me lately, or how apples seem to be causing me great intestinal distress, I can think of better things to be doing than reading my blog. Playing Tumblebugs would be my choice on the computer, if it wasn’t broken on Leopard. Or reading a mystery. I have a stack that I still have to finish. Or maybe even something non-computer-related. I’d tell you that was a bad idea. No computers means no intarweb. No intarweb means no network. No network means no job for me. That would be bad.