Self Centered

Hello Dear Snackers,

I'm going to start this off with an old fashioned, I'm sorry!

I apologize for my extended absence. Anyone who relies on Snax In The City for their weekly nourishment must have withered away from starvation (...and for any of you who can now squeeze into your skinny jeans due to your snax depravation, you're welcome!) I don't want this blog to deteriorate into a total buzzkill, but in order to justify my online disappearance, I must confess that I suffered a tragic loss last month. A loss that shook me to the core. A loss that radiated into all fibers of my being. A loss that took me by surprise and left me grappling to understand things that I knew to be true and concrete.

You see, I lost my ability to questions things.

Literally.

My question mark key stopped working.

One day I was uploading a new myspace picture (gotta keep it fresh, you know) and when I went to type in my picture caption I realized that my question mark key pulled a Bin Laden and took off into hiding. The caption I typed in was something modest like, "How cute am I." It was supposed to be followed by a question mark, but as I furiously slammed away at the button (kinky, right?) I realized nothing was coming out. So instead of putting out a question to the world, it appeared as if I was making a declarative statement.

How cute am I

Not a question. A statement.

How cute am I!

No room for dissent there.

And that's when I realized the lack of a question mark can turn any curious, gregarious fellow like myself into a truly selfish bastard. In my email correspondence, I would yammer away about myself without tossing off any questions back to my friends. It was all "I'm doing great!" or "Yeah, I'm parting it differently, thanks for noticing" or"Don't worry about it, I didn't smell a thing." but not once was I able to toss back a "Hey, whatchu up to" or "I got a few boxes, you want the thin mints or the tagalongs" or "Did Herveiner attend the gala"

I couldn't stand asking a question without tagging on that cute squiggly little question mark symbol that we all take for granted.

I became a self centered asshole, and a lazy one at that, as a trip to the Apple Store to take my baby in for some doctoring was put off in lieu of more pressing trips, i.e. Zankou Chicken. Eventually, I got bored with myself (hard to imagine, I know) and I found myself actually craving to find out what the rest of "you" were doing, so I slowly started adding IQMH to my questions.

"Who the fuck does Phoebe Price think she is" IQMH
"I know Hillary's got a vagina, but does she have any balls" IQMH
"Is Eva Longoria the student or the teacher" IQMH

And by interested in "you" I mean interested in famous people.

Eventually IQMH (insert question mark here) became tiring, confusing and pointless, so I did what needed to be done...I sent my baby off to the MacDoctors.

I kissed my MacBook goodbye and sent her off to get a new part. I totally have sympathy for the parents who drop their daughters to get their high school graduation boob job present.

That was a tough week. Without my online blogging friends, I was actually forced to read a book. "Invisible Monster by Chuck Palahniuk" (thanks Matt for the recommendation.) A real life book, a tangible property, with pages and everything. My bookmark was not just an online shortcut, it was a 2 for 1 taco coupon from Jack In the Box.

Just when I started getting used to the whole "book" thing, I got the call everyman waits to here. "You're computer's ready to be picked up!" I threw the book in the trash and drove to Apple like a madman.

So, I'm back! And most importantly, my good friend the question mark is back.

To quote my friend Janet Jackson, you don't know what you've got til it's gone...

Now, let's give it up for my friends, they missed you: ??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Damn that felt good. Anyone got a cigarette?!!?!??!?!?

Peace, Love and ?,
Brian