This is further proof that I need backup dancers with me at all times.

 

I've been thinking a lot about time lately. Or rather, speed. The speed at which time goes by. The speed that I assign to certain tasks and deny to others. Why do I spend so much time doing certain things and almost no time doing others? Why does it seem like I keep cutting the amount of time I allot to writing and listening to music to almost nothing? Why am I whittling that time away to almost nothing?

I've decided that it's all Twitter's fault.

Greetings, Hardcore Hobo fans! I theorize that you are hardcore because you've been kind enough to keep me in your feed readers/bookmarks through all this long dry spell of No Hobo News. For which I thank you, from the bottom of my hobo-ey little heart.

Wow, two in one day! This is just a fill-in the blanks thing, though, so it probably doesn't count:

1. Put your iTunes/Ruckus/Napster/etc on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
Blow You Away

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
American Idiot

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Always be my Girl

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Racing Rock

Egads! It's been a while, hobo fans! My apologies. Life has been happening at a pace somewhat short of breakneck, and I've been spending all of my mental energy on other things. But I find myself with a few moments to spare and an itching to tell stories, so here I am.

And OH the stories I could tell. Some of them are too recent and sensitive to discuss, like the Great Gummi Penis War of 2009, which had surprisingly traumatic repercussions, the nature of which I am not at liberty to share at the moment.