I feel like shit.

No, actually, my head feels like shit. Hot, steamy, straight-from-the-cow’s-ass shit. It’s murky and sticky and screams of freedom from a very tight ass.

Okay, maybe it’s just hurting like hell right now. I don’t mind, though. Half the worst is over; I’m bound for Bicol Thursday. Oh, did you know? We’re going there to chase some Butandings somewhere near there. I don’t even know hell about Butandings, but just saying their names make you go “ooooh!” and I’m like, “yeaaaaah.” And you’re like, “awesome.”

But there’s something much more awesome. I have a new agent who refers to himself in third person. Like, he speaks to his customers okay, but he refers to himself personally in third person. I am fucking thrilled. No joke. You know why? Because I’m fluent in third person language. Bet you didn’t know that, did ya? Bet you JC can kick your ass right there while you roll over the floor laughing, and JC can maul you over right there and JC won’t care, because JC has been so special ever since and no JC doesn’t think speaking in third person is bad, because JC feels it’s so fawkin awesome.

(JC’s tired. Wanna drink soya milk with JC?)