Last week, I was fired from my job. But, no, it's fine.

Because the Peggy Sues got signed.

This is where you bring the Gazette to your chest, squeal out a Yahoo!, and then read on.

To what record label we'll be represented by, I'm not at liberty to say. It has something to do with their legal department reviewing an amendment we made to their contracts.

Frankly, we'd rather not get screwed over.

But we leave to go into a studio in New York within the next month. Yes. New York.

However, my nice office job didn't like this very much. Thus, my job loss.

Which is actually a shame, considering I've just totaled my car in Broad Ripple. Don't ask.

But I did get to meet Jarod, the Subway guy, at Rock Lobster several evenings ago. Interesting man. But I think we've all randomly seen him wandering around Broad Ripple on the weekends.

That was the evening I totaled my car. You know the rainbow bridge? You know the canal underneath it? My car's currently somewhere down there. It was late, someone bashed me over the edge, blah blah blah. It's a really long story that I've told ten thousand times. Suffice it to say I've got some nice insurance money coming.

But that doesn't make up for the unpleasant passing of my guinea pig, Duder. I assume he's passed, anyway. I came upon his cage yesterday morning only to find him missing. We've been searching for hours. He's either evaporated or been stolen. Neither of those seem probable, so I can only assume he's somewhere in the house and, sadly though most likely, dead.

I'm broken hearted. I love my guinea pig.

That same evening, I also sort of set fire to the kitchen. So not my fault. I just had no idea chicken could flare up quite like that. And wow, can chicken produce a lot of smoking.

Speaking of smoke, I smoked my last cigarette on the corner of Broad Ripple Avenue and Guilford Wednesday night. Just threw the rest of my pack into the garbage. I've been gnawing on my fingers ever since. But oh, don't I feel healthy.

I also joined the Cardinal right there on Broad Ripple Avenue. I've been going over there every morning before I head to the office. I'm training, y'see. I've decided to run a mini-marathon. Just really trying to push myself, y'know?

All right, look. All those paragraphs up there? Are total lies. I made it up. The Peggy Sues didn't get signed, I didn't lose my job, I didn't total my car, I've never met the Subway guy (though I really have seen him on weekends in Broad Ripple), Duder's fine, there was no fire in my kitchen, I'm not running any marathon, and (dear god, yes) I'm still smoking. Look, I've just been snowed into my house for the past five days and had nothing to write. Can you blame me for lying?