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Ask me anything http://formspring.me/lecnessmonster

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People don't think of where we grew up as the south (it is)...that said: do you have an accent?

Well, I grew up in southern Chester County, so if you count a mild SEPA twang a southern accent, yes. While I was living in Tampa, I picked up a few little quirky phrases that I've since lost again... but nothing spectacularly country. Bummer, eh?

Ask me anything

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Are you an introvert or an extrovert?

According to a popular personality profiling tool, I am an extrovert. This means that I am motivated by a social environment. Not to be confused with going to a party and working the room. That wont happen unless I've got Vlad on my side.

Ask me anything

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What's the best place near you to get a pizza?

Pizza I don't really eat, but I'm getting started because I cant sleep: Culinary Deliveries is a staple; pure greasy-tomato-cheeks delight, and you don't even have to burn calories to run and get it because they're the only pizza joint that delivers allll the way out to my bumpkin self.

Ask me anything

Your Turn, Mate

I've really kind of fallen off of this writing obsession. What little writing I DO do now, I do in private. And it's usually for theraputic reasons and incredibly uninteresting to the general public.

That said, I'm not going to apologize and instead I'm going to turn things around and put the guilt on you.

My friend Shawn started posting requests on facebook for anonymous questions from friends, which he will answer publicly. And I'm jumping on behind him because it's wonderfully brilliant.

I feel a little sheepish about copy-catting but then I remembered I just got a legitimate TV last month, so you cant blame me for being behind the times. Plus, I've been preoccupied with a number of serious things.

In any case, don't be shy:

http://www.formspring.me/lecnessmonster

Or:

Nor should you be modest.

Allons-Y!

*looks down* and...

...*kicks dirt*

I feel like the kid who has ignored the charitable weekly visit to his grandmother's house for the past year. I have to admit, constant status updating on social networking sites detract from the amount of decent material I can blog about. And now, since I've finally accepted Facebook as my redheaded stepchild, I just cant stop beating it to death with updates of what I'm doing, in retribution for it's awful soul-lesness, stealing all my juicy vittles. I believe that's what we'd call a vicious cycle.

Now that Lady has blogged twice since we both decided that we were in a blogging rut, I feel compelled to tell you SOMETHING about what's going on in my life that you might not already know.

Since we last spoke, I've lost 12 pounds!

...And in one dazzling indulgent weekend in New England, I managed to gain it all back. Fail.

Impressive, huh? So here I sit, back to day #2 of punishing myself with a fully nutritious yet liquid diet to hopefully get to where I left off. At least the liquid is a form of chocolate (even if it's imposter, it still fills that void), and at least I do get to look forward to some fruit and salad every day. But why are there free sandwhiches today? :( And why is there free cake? :( :(

Speaking of which, some people just aren't meant for fedoras. I'm not trying to steal Lady's Miley Cirus thunder or anything, but reading her last entry brought into memory the leopard print Miley Cyrus fedora I tried on this weekend. Mind you, it was strewn behind some bags of potting soil in the garden section of walmart, I didn't go searching for it specifically, I just spotted the print with my natural internal African-wildlife-pelt-radar and was drawn in its general direction. Suffice to say, I looked like Borat's neighbor. You know the one: When Borat get clock radio, I can not afford. Just a little more jazzy and stylish.

Action Plan, Day One. Too busy for a clear shot.