Yesterday, I could think of nothing to say. I apologize. I did talk to the Blog Bully last night for the first time in a long while and he said, "Well, that's what being a writer is. Writing something even when you have nothing to say." That's probably not a direct quote, but it was something plucky along those lines. Did I say, "Wow! You're right! Thanks, Blog Bully!" No. I said, "Are you KIDDING? Have you nary a word of praise? I've been writing and writing. You are the meanest Blog Bully EVER." He then mustered up some pride and compliments for me, but it was too little too late. I am a sensitive flower.

Speaking of almost successes, I did go to the gym yesterday. I know! I too was amazed. However, I did not actually exercise when I got there. I intended to. Honest. But it was all "two people to a lane, I didn't really want to come here anyway" in there, so I just spent some time in the steam room and took a shower before heading across the street to Yoshi's for my friend's gig. And a hamburger. It got me no closer to fitness, I'll admit, but I did feel much better when I left than I did when I arrived, and isn't that what the exercisers are always claiming about going to the gym? So, I think I win. Plus, my hair looked a lot better after I washed it. Turns out you're supposed to wash it. Weird.

Instead of exercising (or washing my hair) I have been watching Game of Thrones. As with everything else that is popular among the vast majority, I am late to join the Game of Thrones fervor, not so much from lack of interest as from lack of access. However, a friend recently loaned me seasons 1 & 2 on DVD. [Another friend just loaned me The Killing season 2, and someone is coming over to bring me Deadwood tonight. I am a well-known junkie. Soon my limbs will atrophy completely and I will have to be carried to work by strapping servants, provided they can extricate me from my deeply indented sofa.]

I have taken to referring to Game of Thrones as Medieval Fantasy Boobs. I meant "Fantasy" in the sense of the genre: dragons and spells and magical kingdoms and the like. However, I'm now six episodes in and have already seen even more bare-chested women than I originally anticipated. I have also, as you'll recall, recently been in the gym locker room, where I saw the usual number of bare-chested women--just regular, notably dissimilar women. Having weighed all this data, I think I am going to have to reallocate the "fantasy" to directly modify the "boobs." In short, it's fortunate that my gym is in San Francisco and not in the Seven Kingdoms because I'm pretty sure none of our bosoms would make the cut. Accordingly, we would all be swiftly dispatched in some grisly manner, as I assume the law of the Great Revered Ancestors must require.