There's a fly in my coffee

And so it begins. I promised myself after the demise of my ten year verbal vomit website that I would create a leaner, more substantive version of Tammy the writer. Unfortunately, while the site is gone, the me between my ears is still here. And she is neither lean, nor substantive today. I'm a writer, or at least a wannabe writer Jim. I'm not a techie and for the moment - it shows. I can't figure out how to change the text font. I mauled my splash page. I've wrangled three "blog" pages because the mechanics seem familiar. Dang it Bobby. All I want is a picture of a hot dog.... It will be weeks before this site is pretty. Until then, you get this:

Dear diminutive flying vermin: I am still in the throes of a two hour time difference, carb overdose and generalized irritation that I actually have to produce something besides errant skin cells for ten hours a day. Your inert floating presence in my cup of elixir was beyond disgusting. That coffee was sacred. The fact that I didn't see you before my taste buds grazed your fuzzy hide makes it all the more revolting. Should any of your winged denizens consider suicide by caffeinated beverage - be warned. I'm on the edge now. The chances of my entire desk bursting into flames is slim...but not zero.

​Peace.