Here is the reason I haven't posted in awhile: I got kicked out of Antarctica. All the governments of the world that have stakes in Antarctica have signed a persona non grata bill to keep me from ever again setting foot on the ice-continent. Shad did what he could to grant me amnesty, but the best he could do was get me provisional status for visiting New Zealand. If it weren't for Peter Jackson, I wouldn't even have that privilege.
The events leading up to my expulsion are humiliating. I've spent the last week sleeping on my Landlord's couch, refusing to get up except to eat the chocolate zucchini bread that Lady K. so kindly brought me and the homemade whiskey Friday overnighted to me. Nonny said she tried to order my favorite cigars for me, but they got tied up in customs. Pudding? Where are you in my time of woe? I know we are mortal enemies, but even Saracen sent oranges to Richard the Lion Heart when he heard that the king of England was a trifle sniffly.