I owe you all a really big apology. A "Like-I'm-Not-Even-Kidding-You" big apology. (Don't ask me who made up that adjective, I won't answer.)

For the longest time in the history of infinity-some, The Dank Recesses of Tums's Brain has been in a vegetative state with the IV's attached to the Deathometer and Bloglossary, and a little machine going *beep* *beep* *beep* at slowing intervals, with a vase of flowers sitting next to its desk and a bunch of little Get-Well cards that a few BZP members who read the blog before and left comments made, and one from me, which promises I shall revive it, or at least avenge it once the opportunity arises, and 'The Price is Right' playing silently on a little television stuck up in the corner playing the 'The Price is Right and Infomercials' channel perpetually, because the remote has been lost somewhere between the bed and the family-assist restroom built into the hospital room, even though the only other channels are PBS and the 'Infomercials Without the Price is Right' channel, and maybe a few extra channels in Spanish, or just blue or white static screens, and a balloon tied to something that resembles a party-bag full of sand or something that resembles sand, because it is a party-bag full of sand, both of which (the balloon and the bag... and the sand too, come to think of it...) spell out "Get healthy instead of dead" or something equally as inspirational, and an empty lunch tray discarded next to the bed with small traces of cafeteria food such as bread-and-water soup and rice pudding, with an empty glass of milk, which for some reason is still classified as a glass of milk even though it is empty and devoid of milk, and therefore, just an empty glass, but since it most recently contained milk as a liquid, for some reason, I refer to it as an empty glass of milk, or a full glass of air, depending on how optimistic I feel at the moment, and slightly depressing and anti-climatic music is ominously playing in the background, giving the feeling that we are in some tragedy of sorts, which ends in the main character or a lead character, or a character underling, or an extra, is about to perish in a very depressing death, foreshadowing that my blog is coming to a close, and that I am retiring entirely from the blog business, because my life has become too hectic to continue working on it, and since I am entering the Dark Ages of high school, double-entered in Oral Interpretation, taking Debate, in the Quiz-Bowl Club, and doing service hours for my Confirmation Class and for Boy Scouts, or to be more precise, my Eagle Project, or to be more precise, digging up certain squalid sections of the ground and putting buckets full of cement with a metal rod sticking out of them at a 78 degree angle into where those chuncks of dirt used to reside, so that people can throw stuff at them, and that I am enrolled in the Blue Crystal Gaming company, which is making a massive comeback in its game-making glory, and since I am lazy, and because Plastiware and I are making a very, very large project, which will involve me composing over 25 songs with a friend known as the Arbiter, who currently relies on me to keep his role-playing topic underway on his role-playing forum, and making graphics for the very, very large project Plastiware and I are making, which also involves the fun task of concept art, which I alone am pretty much assigned, that my blog will soon die from its currently not-so-active vegetative state.

*sigh*

Well, it isn't, okay?