I’m An Asshole

I haven’t called.

I haven’t written.

Hell… I haven’t made a single attempt in the last several weeks to reach out to you: my readers.

I’m like that person you dated who you really, really liked and you thought everything was cool only have me not call you back, return your texts, avoid you in the hallway, assimilate myself somewhere else other than where you are or do everything I can to avoid eye contact with you at 7-11 because if I do that means I have to talk to you.

I, my dear readers (of whom many I have lost I’m sure), am an ass.

What if I were to tell you that I want you back?

What if I were to tell you that I’ve seen the error in my ways? That it wasn’t you… it was me? I just needed to find myself! To spread my wings and fly only to find myself back here where I belong!

C’mon… I’m crying here…

I sold myself and my talents to the industry giants who paid me only to throw my talent to the curb like I was a dirty, snot soaked tissue incapable of absorbing any more phlegm or containing one more rouge booger.

WHO ARE THEY? THEY DON’T KNOW ME!

You know me… and I missed you.

I’m coming back. It’s official… if you’ll take me (and tell everyone we’re back together via email, Facebook, Twitter, carrier pigeon, etc.).

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Oh, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m making a few changes! I know it kinda looks like poop right now but I’m doin’ the best I can with the time I have.

Word homeys.

Hello? Anyone There?

It has been what feels like an eternity since I penned any words on ye olde blogge.

How are you? I want to know. Have you popped that huge cyst that was growing in your underarm? Have you made sweet love to the homeless man on the corner of Robinson and Kelly yet? What about the serum you were working on to cure penis envy?

A lot of happened since (1) I bid a momentary farewell, (2) I fell out of love for Kim Kardashian and (3) I paid homage to the tush.

For one… Bin Laden got shot in the face. Go USA.

Secondly: in keeping with my promise to all of you, I lost 2o mother effing pounds!!!

I hate me in this picture but I think it illustrates the weight I’ve lost… especially in my face… as opposed to my huge gut and double chin in the pictures below:

An extra scoop of double chin fat for anyone? Anyone?

Thirdly: we got all moved in to our mansion.

Gratuitous outside shot not really lending much to what the inside of the house looks like.  Don’t worry… I can tell you about it later.

Fourthly: Bunny lost, like… 15 pounds and now looks like she could crush Brooklyn Decker in a “who’s hotter” contest.

God I love them both…

Fifthly: I now have a man cave.

Yes… it’s messy. Yes… it’s a work in progress. Yes… I’m getting a bigger TV. Yes… I’m planning on writing a blog post about it. No… Bunny and I haven’t christened the room yet (dammit). No… you can’t come over.

Sixthly: There are at least eight billion things to talk about.

I’ve been out of the blogging business for almost two months. I haven’t kept up with reading some of my favorite blogs (I’m looking at you, you, you, you, you and you… sorry). I haven’t really tweeted or Facebooked. I haven’t really done much of anything worth relevance in trying to promote my douchness.

What I HAVE done is earn some money with my writing skills. I must say it is nice to get paid to write… but I can’t write about what I want to write about. This delivers a near fatal blow to my creativity. I miss pouring my life in so many words to the faceless readers who so diligently follow my walk through life like I was Johnny Depp or Kat Von D.

I’m ready to do it again.

I can’t promise the diligence I once had to update my blog every couple of days. I CAN promise that I won’t leave.

I can’t promise that I’ll always be at www.whoispapak.com. I’ve learned that writing and getting paid is desirable. I just might pigeon-hole myself into a blog focused on a theme.

I can’t promise I’ll always be so fraggin’ sexy. When I’m 183 I might not be all that smokin’ hot any more. In fact… I could be dead if they don’t figure out a way to regenerate frozen bodies soon.

I CAN promise I’ll always try to make you smile, I’ll always try to make you laugh (and cry… maybe… at times) and I’ll always try to get Brooklyn Decker (no more Kim Kardashian) to know I’m alive.

“I’m Papa K’s new #1!!!! *Squeal*!!!!”