Winner of the Wet T-Shirt Contest

Pissed on, again. It's a gift, really . . .

I have had yet another of "those" weeks. They are now far too common for me. And, just when it seems like external forces have conspired more than enough to keep me down I volunteer to finish the job myself. I really am my own worst enemy.

I am out of touch and out of step with the world. I already knew this but hope springs eternal. Such hope, in fact, that I found myself particularly low and thought I'd give an old friend a try at a conversation.

In fairness to them I really went for the gold and went way overboard to try to get a response. I sent off an email (my emails are like my blog - too long) and left that person at odds as to how or to just what to respond.

Now, I've probably scared them away and won't hear from them at all. So, I'm back at the keyboard broadcasting my distress signals to no one in particular. And no one in particular is replying. I am so not a part of the current "scene" that I wouldn't know where to insert myself geographically much less socially in a conversation. I was never the club kind of guy and to try that now would make me the cliché'd old guy. Forget that.

So, I'm pacifying my urge to be a part of the group somewhere while I write to imaginary readers. All of these little messages in bottles that I'm just tossing out and waiting for the winds and currents to change and help me reach out to someone.

I guess when you are on the losing end more often than not it 's supposed to make winning all the more sweet. Well, at least I've got this T-shirt . . .