Are You There God? It's Me Terry.

I got da blues bad. I get em every holiday season. What can I tell ya? It ain't easy bein divorced—4 times! Its the sorta thing that takes its toll on ya. Anyway the guy that runs this site said that I should talk about my feelins seein as it might help me shake em out and I guess I can understand that. I got no one really to talk to. Johnny aint much to bounce feelins offa. Usually he just gets more ajitated than normal. So I keep em all bottled up and maybe that';s why I have so many heart attacks. I can take a lotta pain. Its my ticker that ain't so hot.

Anyway, New Years is just around the corner and me and Johnny gotta work. We got this gay cowboy case that started in Chelsea and took us all the way up to Westchester County. Let me tell ya, Westchester may sound like some quiet, wrangling land but it sure as heck aint. Well we got to put that on hold for New Yrears Eve and help work crowd detail. Boy that gets my goat. I hate crowds (so why am I in NY right?) and I hate detail. And Details magazine for that matter. All those metro sexual fancy boys and their expensive gadgets. Reminds me of Tiny and Guy. Those two knuckle heads.

All right. I'm done here. I feel better actually. I guess you were right guy. I gotta hit the head anway.

Gristle out.

Gristle here.

So I'm back with antoher installment. The guy runningthis show insists on me doin it a few times a week but I aint got the time. At least that's what I keep tellin him. What does he want from me. I'm just a cop. I belong on the streets. Like Vic Mackey. But don't compare me to that guy. He killed a cop. That dont fly strate with anyone. Especially a cop. I love that show THE SHIELD but even I have to admit that the last season and a half were pretty crappy. To much talkin and plotting. I got so confused and bored if the truth needs to be told. But the first four seasons of THE SHIELD were some of the best TV I seen in decades. And I seen a lot of TV. I mean that is before Beverly took my set. Nothing is worse than a woman scorned. Or however you say it. Anyway, I'm tired of typing. I gotta go pick Johnny up. Ever since I accidently backed over his foot, his drivings none too good. Poor kid. He ll never let me live it down.

I dont' blame him.

Gristle out.

Gristle, over. Again.

Apparently some folks like reading these blog things. I don't see why. Anyway, according to the guy runnnin this show, we need to update it more offen. So what do I say? First off, I really hate this. I aint a good typper. I only use my two fingers. It takes me forever to write out an arrest report and my captain is always on my case about my spelling and gramma. I don't know why. I told him, jus let me do my job. I'm all about solvin cases and geting scum off the street. AS much as I hate my job I really do love it. Nothing feels better than putting some low life street punk behind bars where he belongs. John and I do a pretty good job. He's a lot yonger then me so he's a little more enerjettic but together we make a pretty good team although I gotta pull back on the reins with him because he gets a little too rambunksus. Kids.

Hey guy is this enough?

Good. Okay, the guy says it is. Dam if my index finger isn't hurting. Where's my ben gay?

Gristle out.