Soy Un Perdedor

I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?

Actually, I am not the loser. The hubs is. And I was on the verge of killing him yesterday.

Why?

He lost his damn wedding ring!

Between holes three and four yesterday, he had the brilliant idea to take off his ring and put it in his pocket to improve his grip and his swing. (I'm talking golf, for those of you who are scratching your heads.) Then, lo and behold, the ring was gone...all in the name of making par.

It was the best six-month anniversary present! Ever!

On opposite day.

**UPDATE**

The ring has been found. It was on the golf cart path. Phew.

Return of the Prodigal Monkey

Well, sort of. It's not like I was really wasting my substance with riotous living. Heh. For a Buddhist, I know the Bible pretty well, no?

Greetings and salutations, loyal readers. (I think there may be three of you now.) I'm back from a blogging hiatus. Pesky work!

I wish I had something interesting to tell you, but I fear I would bore you to tears with my recent affairs. Imagine the excitement and suspense of Law and Order, The Practice, or any John Grisham novel or movie adaptation.

Now picture the opposite.

Such is my life.

Cross your fingers that work lightens up soon, so I can attempt to entertain you a bit once again.