Where am I?

The Last Banana
Seven months is a long time, and a lot of beer has passed under the bridge. I was SO excited when I figured out how to edit my profile that I'll bet I forgot how to keep the lines out of my text. I won't know for sure 'til I see this on the page, if it gets there. Last night's entry still hasn't made it yet, and I fear it may be lost, alone and afraid in the dark. I can hear it whimpering, somewhere under my chair. Not to worry. I'm sure it'll come back to me. Like riding a bike. A bike with a really big seat and tires that scream under the pressure.