You know all I have is love for you. You see it in the way I show up each day (on the days I show up), how I write, the way I drive to the hole, cutting and zagging, dropping outré adjectives along the way. I don’t need to remind you what I’ve done for the Rehashed Potatoes Franchise. Granted, we’ve had more highs and lows than a pair of crystal-meth-addicted newlyweds hashing out their religious differences on a Six Flags rollercoaster. But we’ve also had steady times (like the months I typically go between blog postings). So it is with a heavy heart that I write to tell you I demand a trade. I can no longer work effectively with Spuds. Chalk it up to creative differences. Also he keeps leaving me voice messages of nothing but deep breathing. I am willing to waive my no-trade clause, though if I have any say in the matter my preferred destination is another potato-themed blog or the LA Lakers.
In days to come, many pundits will comb over the past and reexamine Spuds and my relationship with a fine-tooth comb, like a determined public school nurse on a manhunt for head lice. But really there’s nothing more to say. It’s like 10% creative differences and 90% the heavy breathing. Hopefully you will always remember the good times, and conveniently forget the rest – e.g., Spuds’ constant backstabbing, incessant whining, childish squabbles, empty threats, coffee-shop nutshots… seriously dude, I’m reading a book while holding a hot mug of coffee, why would you do that? In the end, life’s too short to be stuck in the past. So once I finish documenting all the reasons why I no longer want to be here, which may require a few more posts as things come to mind, I’m moving on. It’s time. I don’t know what lies ahead, there’s no way of knowing, but it’s time to get going. It’s like that catchy Tom Petty song: And I’m a bad boy, ’cause I won’t even miss him / I’m a bad boy for breakin’ Spuds’ heart…
And I’m free,