I've gotten a lot of hits since I threw that banner out there, as [ego] millions of adoring fans come rushing to kiss my soiled feet [/ego]. I figure that there's nothing wrong with being extroverted in an anonymous fashion. Too bad Diaryland has no gift drop off box or something. Get to work, Andrew.

Just had lunch with a couple of ex-cohorts of mine (they used to work for me as one of my suppliers) from my days in the advertising mob. For some reason, I feel sorry that they're still stuck there, wanting. Their job is quite a bore, actually, printing packaging for one of our nation's biggest cigarette manufacturers. Must get quite sickening to see badly degraded smoker's teeth on the warning labels everyday.

However, in a cigarette smoking cruel twist of irony, they're indirectly contributing to my potential demise. As if they're ready to spring the practical joke that, ha ha, I will eventually die by their hands. But I love them anyway.

In any case, this is my farewell tour, and a friend of mine has suggested making buttons announcing as much to be passed around to people at both my parties this week. "My farewell tour 2002, live in Toronto."

I'm starting to feel like the proverbial rock star waiting to smash his guitar. Let the hits keep rolling in...