Oh, it's like nothing happened while we were gone

First off, I would like to thank all of the regular readers of this blog for not calling bullshit on us for promoting the fact that this blog is updated daily. We know it's not true and you know it's not true; so apparently we've come to some kind of arrangement that is similar to the "only gay once in college while drunk so let's not talk about it" kind of arrangement good friends make. With that said, let's get on with the mea culpa and related explanation.

Right before the editorial offices of Cerebral Itch went black, things were progressing rather nicely. We had a full staff of writers who could stay sober during the day or at least fake it really well when the investors dropped by. We all knew we were cruising into a robust period of renewed political jousting and at the very least, American Idol was gearing up. Heady times ahead indeed; but then…the mold appeared.

Right over Veejay's head for about three days prior, a bubble in the ceiling grew until the moron decided to lance the two-foot wide office boil with an x-acto knife resulting in drenching himself with three gallons of putrid stagnant water. We all laughed our asses off until we saw mushrooms through the gash in the drywall. You read that right, mushrooms. An actual fungal colony had taken residence in our office above the head of the one employee that it could probably take in a debate. Those of us that had seen enough 20/20 and Dateline scare pieces on the deadly black mold grabbed our car keys and got the hell out of there never to return until today. Apparently the air testing is now complete and the offices got a clean bill of health. The insurance covered it even though an investigation found that is was all the result of an abandoned mini marijuana hydroponics lab left by the previous tenants. Our lawyer's frequent recommendation to the authorities to ignore the fact that there were no previous tenants before us was successful and the check got pushed through.

So what did we all do for the three weeks you saw nothing from us? Well, Veejay healed up nicely from the abrasions he received during his mold killing Silkwood shower the health department gave him (supposedly nursed back to health by none other than Ugly Betty herself, America Ferrera – see our debate coverage). Silvio the intern just disappeared, but pulled into the office parking lot this morning driving a Mercedes CLS 550 coupe with nothing but a smile on his face. We’ll be getting to the bottom of that one later. Our HR person who has contacts over at Monster.com was notified that seven of our people posted fresh resumes and also the local Kinko's informant we keep plied with donuts and Wii games let us know he ran off resumes for three of our employees. Since we had nothing really to do, we rented office space, whipped up a cool ambiguous website with a lot of Flash animation and marketing buzzwords for a bogus competitive start-up and then called them all for an interview. We hired a stand-up comic we know who’ll open for a flower blooming and had him play the hiring manager. Each interview consisted of wonderfully inappropriate sexual questions and promises of ridiculous salaries leading each one of the ship-jumping rats to take the bait. Our saucy Latina receptionist answered, some would say correctly, the question concerning office orgies and discretion. The hunky marketing guy apparently thinks he’s qualified for my job, four of our writers were thrilled to learn that there would be a medicinal marijuana vending machine in the lounge and all candidates were on board with "chaps and pasties Fridays". All of this was captured on video and will be shown at the annual office Christmas party. Aside from all that we received our third plaque from the city recycling department for again putting the most beer and wine bottles in a single dumpster in a two-week period. Drunks we may be, but we’re environmentally responsible drunks.

So in closing, no one is more sorry about our absence than us. We cry nightly that we were not able to cover the Spitzer hooker scandal. Because seriously, if you're going to hold a hotness contest with high-profile Jezebels, Ashley Alexandra Dupre wins by a landslide when you stack her up against the likes of Monica Lewinsky and Jessica Hahn. We sob in the shower when we think about the missed opportunities to comment on hideous old feminist relics spewing bile in a crass attempt at frank political discourse when in fact it's deep-seated resentment finally bubbling up from the 80's for being used as a novelty running mate in a failed presidential bid. But you know what gets us through the night (besides the obvious)? It's that tomorrow, Barack will still be black and scary to a frighteningly large segment of the population and Hillary will still be a crazed selfish shrew fixated on the presidency like a crow in a parking lot with a shiny piece of glass. McCain also just gets older and less able to deal with the nuances of let's say, oh, reality. Also the fact that the US economy will continue to cruise into a sort of 1970's Argentinian wheelbarrows full of cash like scenario gives us all hope we will have plenty of stuff to write about in the future as we attempt to make up with our readers.

Regards,

Client Number Eleven