So this is where I left my blog

I know everyone is wondering what I’ve been up to? Where have you gone, Dane? We miss you so much. You’re the cooooolest.
You probably all have images of me stationed in Afghanistan, beads of sweat dripping down my forehead, lurking in a fox hole waiting to assassinate the next Bin Laden before he hurts anyone.
You see me with a dozen Shuriken strapped tightly to my belt. I have a black ninja-to dangling at my side. I also carry six smoke bombs in a pouch on the opposite side of my waist from my blade.
I crouch in the four-foot hole with brush all around. When I poke my head up, all you can see are two penetrating blue eyes. The kind of eyes that don’t hesitate. They’ll be your last memory as I plunge my sword through your abdomen. You’ll cough up blood as I slide my steel from you punctured torso.
A smile will cross my lips. One that you’ll never see, because my face is hidden behind a black mask. The mask of death. Yar, Yar, Yar.
For those of you who weren’t thinking that, I’m guessing you figured I was passed out on a beach on one of the small islands surrounding Hawaii.
You thought I’d fallen off the wagon right into that damn opium den on the outskirts of North Battleford.
Once I was severely messed up on the poppy seed extract, I’d get the urge for a little peyote and there my journey would begin.
I’d be off to Mexico, driving as far south in my little Nissan Sentra as possible. My hombre Mexican Mike would be at my side. We’d keep our opium buzz going all the way down.
The car wouldn’t make it, but a little skinny guy with a fat mexican don’t have a problem hitching rides. We’re a little too much like Cheech and Chong.
We’d have to hide in the trunk of some family’s trunk as we get smuggled into the states.
As long as the drugs keep burning, the trip keeps going.
Once in Mexico, I’d end up in a poker game. My Canadian money looks good but doesn’t add up to much.
I toss $5 into the pot on pair of queens. The lovely lady wearing diamonds and the bitch of spades.
Across the table sat a middle-aged man with a mustache and sunglasses. He tosses in a fin and calls.
Rico, my name for the cunt, has five cards in his hand and just ditched three on his lone draw.
I slight smile crosses his lips as he looks at the new cards.
I too slip three cards to the dealer. He returns three back to me: the jack of hearts, three of clubs and the seven of spades.
Crap! I think to myself, but my face remains cool. I didn’t give my crappy hand away.
I look at Rico, what a cunt. I look at my cards. I look back at him and toss $10 into the pot.
He takes a little time. I’m guessing he’s trying to lure me in.
Eventually he raises me $20. I raise back $20. He counters with $25. I look at my stack of cash. It’s dwindling quick with all the raises.
I count out $25 bucks. It’s the last of my cash. I look back at him.
He mouth quivers. He cracked. He has nothing. Damn bluffing cunt. Ye stupid bastard.
I throw my watch into the mix along with Saint Christopher pendant. It’s worth a pretty penny, if that penny was gold and worth a lot.
Finally he calls with a ticket to Hawaii on a two-week cruise.
I laid down my two queens a displayed my biggest smile. Two rows of teeth brightly shinning his direction.
He tosses his cards to the flow and spanish curse words come flying out of his mouth.
I collect my winnings and leave. My compadre Mike disappears.
My cruise is quite a bit like the the movie Titanic, except I’m the one about to fall over the railing. I’m in a drunken stupor and someone said I couldn’t swim back to shore.
A girl grabbed me from behind, by the collar of my shirt and hauled me back on board. She slapped my across the face.
All I could think of was how incredible her blue eyes were. An icy blue that sent tingles up and down my spine.
Her hair was a reddish brown and she had the perfect bottom lip.
That’s just what I liked about her from the dog collar up.
The rest of her was also extremely amazing. Why would someone so pretty save my life? It didn’t matter.
We didn’t leave one another’s side for the rest of the trip, but that was mainly because we both like to drink, the bar was open 24 hours and it was an all-inclusive vacation. The booze was free.
We told stories back and fourth. They all seemed to start with “this one time I was so messed up....”
She drank 40s of Southern. I drank rye, lots and lots of rye with an occasional caesar chaser.
While we were waiting for our drinks to quickly flow down our throats, we passed the moments away with pool, darts and an occasional game of rummy.
We stuck together once we hit the island, but only for a while. The drinks weren’t free anymore, but I knew I’d see her again. I do believe in fate.
I roamed the streets with no money. I begged tourists for change.
One day I gave up. I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked into the ocean hoping to never surface again.
I trudged deeper and deeper. My chest felt like bursting, spots formed in front of my eyes and finally everything went black.
I don’t know what the hell happened after that. I awoke on a sandy, soft, white beach.
I smelled bad. The aroma was a little like dead fish. I wished I was dead fish.
Okay actually, I’m just a lazy bastard. I didn’t really feel like posting. I didn’t really have anything to say.
I just took a little unannounced time away. It was a chance to gather my thoughts. A chance to reflect.
It was nice, but now I’m back. I hope to stay for a while, At least long enough to see the crisis end.