Last night I did one of those really groovy maneuvers where I fell asleep watching a television program and then slept right through until 3AM, whereupon I woke up to find that I missed hanging out with some friends who were in town. I’m sad that I missed my friends, but at least this might put me back in the good graces of the Hermit League.

Reclusive and abusive, Paul heads up the Hermit League
Only yesterday, a carrier pigeon delivered a note scrawled on a piece of bark that read “We’re onto you, Hodgson”. I assume it was from the Hermit League, as pigeons have horrible handwriting and can’t even manage a scrawl.
Now I feel I have to explain to my friends why I didn’t hang out with them. They all know that I relish my time alone the way an alcoholic relishes a free six pack, or the way a relishaolic really relishes relish, so it’s going to be a bit of a tough sell to explain that I didn’t just lurk at home for the sake of a good lurk.
In this situation, a lesser man might be tempted to resort to subterfuge. He might tell what’s known as a white lie. For those not familiar with white lies, that’s when you lie to someone, then lie to yourself about why you lied. The second one makes the first one okay, kind of like sleeping with a one night stand a second time a few weeks later to make it seem like you are legitimately dating, not just getting sluttier when you drink.
But no, I have a policy against lies. They’re for amateurs.
For more on this topic, I recommend stripping down to a martini and a pair of satin boxer shorts, slicking your hair back, and dancing around your home to Sade’s “Smooth Operator“. Be sure to do the kind of dancing that involves a lot of shoulder movements. Trust me.
I did get outside a little bit yesterday, first to go to the cyclist training cave before dawn and second to clean my mountain bike. Upstairs Cutie, my neighbor, came outside while I was scrubbing said mountain bike and grumbling because the car wash place declined to let me use their pressure washer (jerks).
She stopped on the walk on her way past to ask if I were about to go for a ride, asking in a tone that suggested that I was standing next to a snarling puma with a saddle in my hands. I said I was just cleaning it this time, and even offered to let her help detail my bike, but she declined. Little did she know I was about to use my new can of spray lubricant.
Some people just don’t know how much fun bikes can be, I guess. Oh well!










Welcome, Artful Men
Hey there, ass bird. Welcome to my damn blog. I’ve pumped up the manliness as far as it will go in celebration of my guest post going live on Art of Manliness, so spill a cold beer on your stupid face and learn how to read, penisankle.
Do you have a mustache? Does your mustache own a gun? Do you own a gun that shoots mustaches? You’re gonna need it, taint clavicle.
If you haven’t punched yourself in the face by now, or driven a Camaro through a solid brick wall while forcing a cougar to punch itself in the face, then you’re probably only half the man you’re going to need to be to slog through the drivel that my usual readers are subjected to.
Yeah, bitch.
Just to get ready for this post, I smeared myself with lard and leaped unarmed into a vat of starving alligators, screaming at the top of my lungs. I might have sustained a bite or two, but every one of those scaly sonsabitches is pregnant right now, and guess who ain’t returning calls.
Why don’t you see if those flaccid penises that you call ankles can sustain your weight as you reach up to the top shelf for the extra hot man sauce? This blog is exploding like hot snakes out of a barrel that is full of equal parts snakes and TNT, baby, and there’s no turning back now.
If the prancing newborn butterflies that you call ears can sustain swearing, or worse, an Australian person’s accent, then watch the following video while I oil my mustache with boiling grease.
That about sums it up, worm balls. Come on back every day for a brand new helping of writing, or subscribe via RSS or email at the top right, and maybe try not to crap your skirt hem next time.