Obviously, the upkeep of this diary was not one of my New Year�s resolutions. Not that I�m keeping any of my resolutions, but whatever.

My wonderful punk rock mutt duck is getting a lady friend. My mom got the hook-up and in a couple weeks, I will be raising a girl punk rock mutt duck for Howie to date. Maybe this will keep him from trying to make babies w/the chicken. And the soccer ball. And my leg. Although, I was kinda hoping I could create a hybrid chicken/duck. I would call them �chucks�.

My birthday is a week from tomorrow and I am in the throes of a mondo midlife crisis. My failures in life always become more apparent around my birthday. Like on my 18th�I had been saying for years that I would have a book published by the time I turned 18. A year before that faithful age, I said �I will be published by the time I turn 18.� The day of the birthday, I said �Yous gotta get more beer, dude. Huh? What the fuck. I want more beer. I dranks it all up.�

At least I was being realistic.

So the day is fast approaching and my self-worth is dwindling.

Bummer.

*But* I have submitted two stories to two magazines and we�ll see in a few weeks how mercilessly they reject me. Shit�optimism, optimism, rah rah rah. We�ll see how *nicely* they�ll reject me. Yeah.

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