Hey, Baby!

Oi.
So I've got a couple of days away from home before the big weekend comes charging along like an enraged rhinocerous who's had a decidedly uninviting run-in with Steven Segal's hair cream.
Figured I would give an update to the old coughalong blog, despite its cirrohated condition as of late.
I can't say I've got anything, really, to post. Just the usual. I've been considering starting to read a lot (and I mean a ruddy LOT) of nonfiction, cause my bookshelf is overpopulated with self-gratifying nonsense by Sacher-Masoch and Jacqueline Carey. Sensing a pattern, here?
So my first foray into the whole shambling nonsense was going to be Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, but I got sidetracked by The Feminine Mistake, which I, personally, think, is hilarious, even though puns are against my religion. It's not strictly a pun.
Oh, and I've decided, tentatively, on a title for my novel. What do you think of Drink up the Sea. You could do a whole lot with a title like that. And no, it's not Biblical, I'm afraid. It's from Nietschze's parable of the madman.
In other news, I hate my neck muscles. They're all cramped along my right side.
I've been looking for a link to give you, but I can't find one. So, I guess I'll leave you with nothing.