I am not dead

Hi,

I just wanted to write to all of you, especially those of you who see me every day, to let you know that I am not dead.  (Unlike Paul McCartney, who we all know was replaced by a less convincing and less talented look-a-like.  C'mon, after the Beatles, you formed Wings ... really?)  I've just ben really, really busy and haven't gotten time to enter a new blog entry.  I'm working on a really good one, though, I promise.

Also, to my former office mate - I'm sorry that someone kicked you out of my office and that you dropped your blackberry down the elevator shaft.  (I wasn't responsible for either, but I've been inside an elevator, so there's that.)  Maybe I can get you a mask of me that you can wear in the office, so people think it's me, although I guess the fact that you're a woman sort of gives it away.  You also actually work in the office.  I'm not really an office type guy.  I'm sort of a more in the trenches, shoot from the hip, wear a coon skin hat (I ran out of John Wayne analogies) type of guy.  The kind of guy that girls are really supposed to like, but then don't really seem to like that way, only as friends - like Uncle Jesse was on Full House.  Although, when I was on the Warner Brothers' tour, a fifty year old woman got really excited when we walked past the headboard for his bed in the prop room.  I guess I could do that - put my headboard outside the office so fifty year old women can take a picture of it.  Maybe you could sit in my office and pretend to watch on a security monitor.  That way, we're doing research. 

Also to the two guys who share an office downstairs who will probably give me a hard time about that last paragraph, I am obviously not implying anything in the last two paragraphs.  As much as you would like to find meanings and innuendos, there are not any.  I do think the Beatles are a better band than Wings.

Sincerely,

The Chronic Nice Guy