PEER PRESSURE ROCKS.

Post the first line from the first entry of each month to provide you with a YEAR IN REVIEW of sorts.

January:
It's the first day (afternoon, at this point) of 2005, and I, myself, am quite prepared for the New Year.

February:
Here I sit, awaiting none other than an escape from this wonderful nation where I can sit for hours on end, listening eagerly to an illiterate Texas oil man who may or may not have served his time in the Texas Air National Guard.

March:
What a waste of seven John Travolta Dollars.

April:
With multiple deaths and my Glaze Under Fire/Ross From Hell experience on Saturday, I was simply too exhausted to try and compute anything, let alone write up some mindless post about my meager existence.

May:
...And the fires of Hell are just beginning to consume my weakened mortal frame.

June:
Done.

July:
Call it disrespectful, but the California coast kicks every other God-forsaken shoreline to the curb.

August:
I think I've played through Songs For A New World at least six times today. That has to be a record.

September:
I'M POST #500, BE-OTCH.

October:
So, while we chilled with the Gators and Crocks, I noticed the Tiki masks.

November:
"I speak for him. Never had the gift myself. The words were there, but the words just sat inside me, never rose to leave. They just sat there. Many was the time-- especially with the inspiration of a well-turned lady-- that I wanted to make those words get up off their duffs, and get out of my insides and so some business. The gift of talking wasn't mine. The gift of talking so's to make someone move. And by move I mean to smile, to blink, to say 'yes, indeed' when they had just got done thinking 'no sir-ee, uh-uh...' I speak for him, because this gift was never mine."

December:
I'm a brunette. Scorn me as you must.

That was actually kind of fun. I'll have to do one next year, too.