I guess I am feeling a little French today. First, I would like to apologize for the silence around here lately. We are busy at work and that means lots of overtime and not a lot of energy to post. But, it got me thinking about something. Do I exist?

In the next apartment building there is someone who owns a Jeep Cherokee, kind of like your old one Curt, with the license plate “I EXIST”. So, clearly, that guy exists. Usually when I am wearing my Rhett shirt or my new rhettoric shirt (from Tracy) I feel like I exist. But the rest of the time it seems like I am somewhere in between existing and not.

For instance, I often exist here, on this blog. But, the question to you is, how long would it take you to forget me?

Yesterday, I was standing at the urinal in the bathroom. I was also peeing. I don’t just stand at urinals. That would be weird. There I was. Peeing. Grunting, a little. That’s what real men do. I might have spit. I admired the weird booger collection that someone has decided to smear all over the walls. That’s actually really gross. Worth sharing, however. And the urinal, with laser censors and full body scanning capability and DNA testing and X-Ray and Blue-tooth for hand-free conversations, flushes before I am finished. Then it flushed about 8 times in a row, while I continued to pee. Which helped. Sounded like a waterfall. Remembering the sound just made me dribble a little bit. Going to have to change this underwear at lunch…

Then I walked away. It didn’t flush. After all those flushes. It didn’t flush when it was supposed to. Basically, the ultimate urinal censor couldn’t tell that I existed. When I walked away it didn’t know that I had been there.

It’s either that. Or it could tell that I had released something so vile into it’s porcelain dish that it had to give itself what could only be equal to a purging of biblical proportions.

Rene what should I do?