This is all your fault, J$

I know what you're thinking. "Oh, not this again. I was hoping we'd get to skip the Forty-Sixth Annual Relaunch of I Stole Your Lunch this year. This is a worse tease than my hot neighbor who always remembers to close the shades AFTER she's undone a few buttons. How is this time going to be different?"

It probably won't be. There's a good chance I'll keep up with this for a few weeks then completely forget about it; there's an even better chance that this will be the only update you get for the next year and a half. There's a possibility that the Interwebs, already stacked to the gills with retarded crap, will finally reach the point where it can't possibly contain another word of bullshit and regurgitate I Stole Your Lunch all over your keyboard. There's a possibility that I'll finally drink enough to actually lobotomize myself and wind up posting an update that consists of "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaajlkjflkajsflkfjalksfjlakjsfldkjaoieja crowofoiwhfuwehauhtoqhoqhohvoahvohauhvdnvwqnvcgwbe Keira Knightley." Whatever happens, I promise one thing: something's going to happen, and it's going to be about as pretty as that thing you took home from Ai Tain after your seventeeth dollar Miller Lite.

But potential carnage be damned, my legions of loyal blogonauts (on the Interwebs, three now constitutes legions) have spoken. They miss me, and they've cried themselves to sleep every night since last I posted, often huddled together in a tangled mass of vaguely cheese-scented manhood as they attempt to soothe each other's pain. At least bringing that to an end will accomplish something positive.

A lot has changed; a lot has stayed the same. And the only way to properly examine both a lots is with a pair of bulleted lists.

The Same

• I Stole Your Lunch maintains that the MBTA could get itself out of debt in two weeks if it charged by the pound.
• Lard asses need to learn how to walk.
• My grammar and spelling are both better than yours and I will judge you harshly because of it.
• The yacht of any potential betrothal must measure at least 90 feet from bow to stern and feature a bowling alley, a helipad, and a towering mast on which epic duels with pirate captains can be fought.
• You buy the booze, I'll write the blog.

Different

• The Foggy Goggle has been vanquished not by fire nor by exorcism but by an Irish-themed punk band with one big hit. Henceforth, the Official Slimy, Disgusting Watering Hole of I Stole Your Lunch is the Hong Kong in Harvard Square. The Golden Temple in Washington Square was a close second, but it's hard to beat three whole floors of skanktastic good times.
• I Stole Your Lunch Headquarters has relocated to a lovely Winter Hill. Rest assured that the local townies, intelligent and sophisticated as they are, will provide ample blog fodder.
• I'm not paying for hosting anymore. Blogger is good enough.
• Google Ads, which base themselves on the content of a given site, will soon provide hours of additional entertainment to my loyal blogonauts.

Stay tuned...