Return of the King

What it do,

This is Travisty
aka Hustle and 'fro
aka Dank Sinatra
aka Don Travioli DiEnzo Vincenzo Giamante Grande Grande
aka Travis Bickle
aka The Deformed Pretty Boy
aka Henry David Thorough
aka Roger Chillingworth
aka Sammy Davis Jewnior, Jr.

and so on...

I haven't been updating the blog because, well, I'm not being graded for it anymore, so fuck it. But something (soul crushing boredom) made me get to thinking: I can basically write whatever I want now. My former professor, the esteemed Michael Barnes of The Austin American-Statesman, had put up a link to my blog and those of my classmates on his own blog on the Statesman's website while we were being graded on them as a part of the class. Basically, I repressed the urge to be a dick--something that doesn't come naturally to me--because I didn't want to write anything offensive, since, unlike myself, Professor Barnes, the Statesman and St. Ed's have well-deserved quality reputations. I didn't want to sully said reps with the inane and profane that comes from my brain, so I tried to keep my inner asshole locked up inside me.

But now, I can write whatever I want. I have no affiliation with anyone and no longer have to worry about embarrasing anyone in this blog other than myself. Or maybe my friends, if they do something so humiliating that I feel like I have to laugh at them about it on a public forum.

But to get to the point, I might be updating a little more frequently now, and I promise future posts will be more entertaining than this, which was written in a haze of light beer and Xanax***. Starting now, every drunken post I pump out late Sunday night instead of doing my homework will be at least mediocre. I may even find the time to capitalize letters and put commas where they're supposed to be, but I dont go fror taht spell check shit.


***Dude, I have a prescription, it's totally cool.