Awoke this morning married and tattooed.

Happy Moon's Day, everyone.

In twelve hours I take the plunge, and I feel no apprehension.

Liz is the woman I love, and her son will be my son (legally speaking), and we have what it takes to make this work. I've heard horror stories from my married peers since I broached the subject many moons ago, and heard tales of "This was the love that poets would write about..." and so on, but they lacked anything of substance once I probed deeper into their personal inner workings.

For her I work, and live and die, if need be. In turn, she will do likewise.

And haste had nothing to do with it. Once your intuition says "This is your path," you act, or you hesitate, thus masturbate. I'm done with masturbation; the exception being long spans of time that need filling.

She is my soulmate. Careful study and objective reasoning have even led to this conclusion.

Friday afternoon, we will be legally joined in the way we were before, except now paperwork says that our union is legit. I hope all mortals, in one way or another, find what I have. I know what it means to be a Lonely Soul, and the Christian Hell pales in comparison.

May Fortune Smile Upon All of YOU!

Dear Woohu friends, I love you all. I won't ask you to wish me well, because it's an empty request, and in truth, it's up to Liz and I to sort it out....so instead, I say May All Your Days Be Less Shit Than the Shit Days Which Befell You Before.

May all the Gods smile upon you, and may your futures be filled with gold and good sex.

Mahalo,

--Sean

Getting married Friday.

Five day weekend.

Hip hip hooray.

Lovey bought me a quarter pound of damiana, and it has virtually assuaged depression and quotidian misery.

Baby has gone to stay with his grandparents until we've solved our money issues, and he is terribly missed. Saturday mornings will forego cartoons and such, but I know he'll be back soon once things have sorted themselves out. We still visit the little man every weekend, and every other opportunity, but he is sorely missed.

Had the best sex last night. I was unaware that women excrete a variety of mucus from their vagina after orgasm. I actually had to bathe afterward; unusual, since I typically don't, and spend my days at work smelling of fermenting pussy.

Despite a few minor grown-up problems, everything seems fine and dandy like sour candy, and for once in my wretched life I feel something in the semblance of "optimism."

I thrive on chaos.

Speaking of: I invited my ladylove to my bachelor party. Imagine how that turned out. She donned her elf ears and green anime contacts, and I was resplendent in my Victorian gentleman's garb and such. There was drama, but I anticipated it, and had a merry time regardless.

Things are peachy.