Just Wait....

Seriously, just wait.

I tried to post from YouTube about an hour ago, and my entry still hasn't shown up.

Someone over there hates me - or else they are just jealous.

Yeah, that's it... YouTube is jealous of me.

Bastards.



Later.

Green as Grass.

I'm jealous right now.

Not of any one individual, mind you. I'm not jealous that the new guy at work found $5 on the floor, or that someone brought a better lunch to work than me.

I'm jealous of the almost 21,000 people who get to see the Foo Fighters rock Gm Place tonight.

To see Dave and the boys live would be an amazing thing - and knowing that I'm not there (when it's so close yet so far away) is turning me green with envy.

Seriously, I'm almost Chartreuse over here.

I wish all those that could attend a good time. Know that I envy you, and that I'm counting on some form of Karmic retribution - it's what keeps me going.


Later.

Concrete Jungle.

Today I tried something new.

I wasn't able to go to the gym this morning, (not open until 10 on Saturdays) so I got my ass out of bed for a run before work.

As I stepped outside at 5:45 am, I looked at my options: I could run up to the track and do laps completely in the dark, or I could run around the neighborhood under the lovely glow of the streetlights.

I picked the lights. (Totally not scared of the dark.)

As I made my way around the block, one thing became clear to me - running on the sidewalk sucks. It seems much harder on the knees than running on the track or even just the road. I'd heard this from people, but until you experience 2 miles of it, you don't really believe them. I switched up to the road for the next 2 miles, and everything was great after that.

I also felt a moment of guilt.

I used to be one of those drivers who would get frustrated with people running or jogging on the road. I'd bitch and moan about how they had a perfectly good sidewalk right there. Now that the shoe is on the other foot, I'm a little remorseful about my (misplaced) ire.

I did enjoy the run though, and plan to do it again. I'll stick to the road rather than the sidewalk, but like others I've seen (and yelled at), I'll obey the rules of the road.

See you on the mean streets.


Later.

Smells Like Mean Spirits.

I'd like to suggest an invention.

(I say suggest because I think it's a great idea, but I don't want to waste my time and energy on developing and marketing it.)

Fabric Softeners for Guys.

I hate static cling, just like any good Canadian boy should. (Fact: Static cling helped the Nazis in WW2.) There's no place for it in my closet, that's for sure.

But using regular dryer sheets make me smell like a sissy. Can't a guy get a dryer sheet that isn't all crammed up with scents like Lavender, Daises and Outdoor Fresh. (How is Outdoor Fresh even a scent? What if you live out by the Sewage Treatment Plant? Does that mean your Outdoor Fresh Sheets smell like shit?)

I like to smell like a man, not like someone spilled a bag of potpourri down my drawers. And that's where I imagine Fabric Sheets for Guys would come in. Think about it:

• Manly guy smells - Bar-B-Que, Dirt, Fresh Cut Grass, Tequila.
  
• Tailored to different levels of activity - New iPod smell, Computer Case smell, Coffee & Newspaper smell.
• Never smell like a flower again!

I believe it's time that someone took this idea and ran with it.

I'd be your greatest customer.




Later.

A Nation Gone Mad.

Canadians as a whole have a pretty laid-back reputation.

We're known as easy-going, polite, and socially responsible.

They should meet us after we've Rolled up the Rim.

Gone is the generous, well-mannered Canadian. In their place lies a bitter, disappointed, ready-to-let-Quebec-take-over, foam-at-the-mouth individual. More Canadians complain about being fucked over by Tim Horton's than they do about our Government. (The two are very much alike - there's a 1:5.9 million chance you'll get something good out of them.)

I'll admit - I've fallen into this trap myself. I'm more pissed about not winning my free coffee than I am about the Foreign policies of the Harper Government. (How sad is that?)

But I still keep going there. I can't help it - and they know that.

Tim Horton's doesn't care. The entire province of B.C. could stop going and they'd still make a profit. (It's all those drones in Ontario who keep the Donut Machine moving along. There's something like a Tim's every 63.5 meters or something like that.) They shipped 17 million cups to B.C. for the contest, and Ontario got 152 million. Seems fair, right? I'm sure some shmuck from Oshawa is going to be happy winning a Toyota Matrix.

But once the contest is over, we can go back to being our lovable, patriotic, trusting selves. There will be no more anger and resentment, and the bitter taste in our mouths will be washed away by a Double Double. (Sweetener - not sugar.)

At least until next year - when our March Madness starts again.


Later.

UnDrafted.

I'll let you in on a secret.

Usually when I blog, it's from some half-baked idea or thought that I've had, and I try to jot it down as soon as possible. I'll even have things pop into my head while I'm writing about something else. (Don't worry, I only keep the good stuff - otherwise you'd just be reading about blowjobs, blowjobs, boobies, and blowjobs.) When that happens, I just set them up in "Draft" mode, and get them later when I can't think of anything to write about.

But I'm all out of drafts.

It's been a busy day - and working, doing the Family Dinner, finishing errands, and putting the kids to bed have left me with no time to formulate a thought worth repeating. I figured I was okay, and that I would reach into "the well" and post about some random thought I had 3 weeks ago.

The well was dry.

I panicked for a moment, and then contained myself.

So instead of wit and revelry, what you get is a post about how I'm unable to post. (Cheap, no?)

Luckily I have a bit of time tomorrow to let my mind wander and hopefully fill up the well again. Otherwise you'll be seeing a lot more posts like this one. ( I could always post the nasty, dirty thoughts - but who wants to read those?)



Later.

In & Out.

I find that there is a real difference between running Indoors and running Outdoors. (Other than the fact that the sun gets in your eyes.)

Having ran 2.5 miles outdoor yesterday and 3.1 (5K) indoors today, I noticed a couple of things:

• When Outside, I didn't have to wait for the fat lady to get off the track before I ran.


• When Inside, I didn't have to wear gloves on my cold hands.


• When Outside, I'm not distracted by the T.V.


• When Inside, I have the T.V to help distract me.


• Women bundle up way more for running Outside - this is not a good thing for a guy as visually-oriented as I am.

I also found that running Outside was much harder. There's such a variety in surfaces that you run on, and not all of them are flat. (When Outside there's no place to hold the water bottle.) Plus it can go from freezing cold to sunny and warm in 2 minutes, meaning that whatever I wore when I left the house is now completely irrelevant.

I like both - the variety of being able to switch between them is going to be great over the next month or so. Rainy days - run inside, great days - run outside. The only catch is that it's so convenient to run on my lunch as the gym is right across the street from work. (Do you think they would be offended if I ran outside and just used their showers?)

The big plus about running Outside is that I might actually get a tan. I hear if you run under the ball of fire in the sky your skin can gradually darken, and not come off in flaming strips like I was lead to believe. That'd be nice.

So the pasty-white guy sweating his sack off running next to the ocean?

Yeah, that would be me.




Later.

Temporarily Demoted.

Tonight I was just a regular guy.

We had doubled-scheduled two of us at work, and being the junior of the two Managers, I preformed the role of The Lackey for the evening.

It was great.

No pressure, no stress, nothing to worry about except doing the simple tasks that have to be done. I didn't have to deal with customers or other staff - no bullshit at all.

It's not like my job is hard -but it's a breeze when you take away any semblance of responsibility except completing assigned tasks. Sure, it's a bit more manual labor than normal, but I can handle that.

Tomorrow I'm back to being me again. It was nice to be one of the proles for a day, but you can't keep a man away from his destiny, right?

But I'll tell you one thing....
I'm going to look at whomever's the Lackey tomorrow night with just a bit of envy.



Later.

Sweet Zombie Jesus!

Today is the day we celebrate the rising of the Undead.

I never thought that one of our most important and ritually significant holidays would also be the one that inspires countess horror films. (Does that mean George Romero is just spreading the word of God?)

Sure, Lazarus was the first zombie, but Jesus helped him - 'ol JC rose from the grave all on his own when it was his time.

When I go, I'd like to come back Eric Draven style - but maybe easing up on the angst just a bit. (With the weight I've lost, I'll look dead sexy in black leather. Get it? Dead Sexy.)

So celebrate Easter any way you want - eat chocolate, go to Mass, or watch Shaun of The Dead (personally, I'd choose the latter) - whatever way you choose to remember a corpse rising from the grave and walking the land of the living is alright by me.

That's what it's all about, right?


Later.

Fleet of Foot.

I'm having an affair.

It's with the treadmill at the gym, and I'm head over heels for it.

In the last two days I've hit a couple of personal milestones on that machine. Yesterday I ran 5K - which I've never done before - with an average min/mile time of 9:13, and today I beat my old personal best average mile by clocking 2 miles at an average of 9:03!

I'm quite happy.

Tomorrow the gym is closed, and I won't be able to see my baby - so I'm going to try something I haven't done in a while. I'm going to run outside. I think I'll head up to the track at Southgate (an elementary school near where I live) and try to do a couple of miles there.

It'll be strange running with no T.V. to look at or no fat guy asking me how much time I have left. Might be nice after all.

I won't forget about my shiny metal baby at the gym, but she'll be there when the holidays are over. I'll take it easy on her once we're back together.

I'm sure she misses me already.


Later.

King Of The Night.

I've just had three days off.

To balance out that wonderment, I go back to work today and work 4 night shifts in 5 days. (I get Easter Sunday off - woo.) Needless to say, my sense of time is going to be all fucked up.

I don't mind the late shifts - I actually enjoy them. But working a bunch in a row just fucks up my internal clock. I find I'm groggy and ill-tempered for my first day shift afterwards.

I'll suck it up though. I'm not a bitch.

See you in the evening, kids.




Later.

Drive Me Crazy.

Today I replaced the busted DVD Burner in my computer.

As technological switch-overs go, it's almost as easy as installing RAM. (Although I know about 15 people who can't even do that.)

Opening up the case is always a joy. Since it's close to Easter, I expected to be attacked by Dust Bunnies as I removed the side panel.

I wasn't disappointed.

I like to think I keep a clean house. There can't possibly be that much dust in the world, let alone my bedroom. (If anyone says the dust in my bedroom is from lack of use, you get a punch in the eye.)

I'd never have one of those computers with the window on the side. Knowing the dust is in there is enough for me, I don't have to watch it pile up. Plus, with my reoccurring OCD, I'd be tying cables off and re-lining the RAM on the motherboard. ("Honey, does that video card look straight to you?")

So I got the drive swapped out, and even did some cleaning up while I was in there. It cracks me up to think that Staples or Future Shop would charge someone around $50 (and take over an hour) to do what took me less than twenty minutes - even with cleaning out all the shit in there.

But the new drive works great, and I can resume my relentless copying and pirating of movies and music backing up of my most important files.

Wink-wink.



Later.

Life Lessons From Charlie Brown.

As I sat and watched "It's The Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown" with the kids the other night I realized that Charlie Brown wasn't just a entertaining show for kids - it readied you for life and fucked up your expectations all at the same time.

Preparation for Life:

• It doesn't matter if the football is physical, metaphysical, figurative or symbolic - whatever it is, it'll get yanked out from under you more times than you can imagine.
• Charlie Brown is a loner who is surrounded by friends who don't really like him, but rather pity him behind his back. They expect him to fail, and if by some chance he succeeds it's a "Christmas Miracle". Welcome to the adult workforce - enjoy your stay.
• First impressions are everything - if you look like a bald kid who has worn the same clothes for forty-five years, don't be surprised if people think you are a loser.
• Winning is everything - just ask your teammates when you fuck up at the ball game.
  
• That masculine girl you've met who likes to wear sandals? Yeah, she's gay. Her partner may or may not be named Marcie, but it's all irrelevant, isn't it?

Fucked Up Expectations:

• No pet - be it dog, cat, hamster or bird, will ever be as cool as Snoopy. They won't sleep on top of the dog house, nor will they get you out of trouble if you are stuck in France. Your dog won't understand you, but will tilt it's head quizzically and try to hump your leg.
• When you're eight you get to have adventures with your pet, travel overseas, make your own Christmas pageant, and compete in a river raft race. That shit doesn't happen to eight year-olds - shit, it doesn't even happen to Thirty-Five year olds. (I've always wanted my own pageant.)
• There will always be a security blanket to ease the pain and make it all better.
  
• All moral dilemmas can be cleared up in less than 45 minutes - not including commercials.
• If you don't like the holiday season, make up your own holiday or religious deity. It's okay - people won't think you're a nut. Really.
• Cartoons are able to teach us life lessons. (Charlie never preached this, but many parents believed it.)
  

With all that out there for the kids to absorb and learn from, it's amazing that my generation isn't more fucked up than it is.

Wait - my generation is the one that created Power Rangers & Captain Planet, the one whose general apathy allowed Dubya to be re-elected, and has taken the moral values that allowed our society to thrive and thrown them in the trash.

At least we get to yank the football out from the younger generation.

We got that going for us.




Later.

Retribution.

Last week I did shitty at Poker.

Shitty with a capital S.

Tonight is going to be different.

I've been getting sloppy, and playing an overly aggressive style isn't working for me. I've succumbed to the temptation of playing in a lot of hands instead of only the ones I should be in.

I'm hoping to correct these mistakes tonight.

Poker is a lot like golf - it's the fine tuning and little adjustments that make the biggest changes to your game. Any retard can swing a club or hold cards (I've seen some holding them at our table) but doing it consistently is the mark of a real competitor.

Until then, I'll be in the corner reading my copy of Poker for Dummies.

Wish me luck.



Later.

Disheveled.

I'm a lazy bastard.

I've been home now for three hours, and I'm still in my uniform from work.

After a very long and arduous day, (as Mondays usually are for me.) I just don't feel like expending the energy it would take to undress, pick something out, and wear it for two hours before I take it off to go to bed. What's the point? I'm just creating more laundry.

So my shirt is half undone, my top button is popped, and my belt is askew. If someone were to walk in right now, it would look like I've either just woken up or just finished having sex. ( You have no idea how much I wish it was the latter.)

I'll throw it all in the laundry when I go to bed.


Has anyone seen my tie?



Later.

Missed It By That Much....

I can't believe I missed it.

I totally forgot that March 14th was National Steak & a Blow Job Day. (Trust me, I don't know where my head was at.)

I'm sure I would have remembered had I received either the Steak or the Blow Job, but neither one turned up.

Sure, if I missed Valentine's there would be hell to pay, but when My holiday gets overlooked like it's a non-issue.

Something about that just isn't right.


I didn't even get a pity-steak either.



Later.

Technological Envy.

Today I spent most of my time dealing with computers.

I set up the Boss's new system at his place, transfered all his files over, and then wiped his old system and set it up at the store.

All in all, not a bad way to spend half my day. (I do enjoy the Nerdy stuff.)

But once again I find myself aching for a new system.

And Windows Vista kinda sealed the deal for me.

I liked it.

I know that lots of people hate it, and I myself would not upgrade my system to run it. But on a new machine, it works great. I find it more intuitive than XP, and some of the things just seem to make more sense. (I know that saying a Windows product is intuitive is heresy, but you have to understand, I've never used a Mac.) That, combined with the snappiness and quick response of a just-out-of-the-box machine make me crave newness.

I need to win the lottery - just to support my technological lust.

Is it tacky to have a sign that says "Will have sex with hot chicks for Future Shop cards"?

Maybe just a little....




Later.

No Goat.

My chin is cold.

After having some sort of facial hair for at least 2 years, and a full-on goatee (or van dyke - whatever you call it) for the last four months, my face is now hairless.

If you remember this post, you'll recall I said I was going to shave the goat when I lost Thirty pounds. As of this morning, I've officially lost Thirty-one pounds.

I shaved as soon as I got home.

I still have another 5-6 weeks in this contest, but it's all gravy now. (Figuratively speaking - no gravy for me.) Any more weight that I lose is just a bonus. My dream would be to tone up and lose another 10 to 15 pounds, but I'm happy with myself so far. (The dream will come true.) I still have to finish the contest, and I am "in it to win it".

I'd post a picture of the chin, but right now it's pasty white and cold. I don't want to expose it too much, for fear that it can't take the attention.

But just to let you know: It's as smooth as a baby's ass.




Later.

Dry and Witty.

When I was a young lad, one of the things I enjoyed doing the most was staying up late and watching Dave Allen. He was my introduction to British humor. (Yes, I know he was Irish, but didn't know it at the time.) His views and jokes on the Catholic Church made it impossible for me to ever attend Mass and take it seriously.

Tomorrow is the third anniversary of his death. If I still smoked, I'd light one in his honor.

Thanks for all the laughs, Dave.


Later.

(Attention People: This is the post that I spoke of 2 days ago! I go to check my posts, and Bam! - it's there. Weird.)

Expanded Wardrobe.

One of the benefits of my weight-loss program is that I can reach father back in my closet and wear clothes that I haven't been able to fit into for quite some time.

Sometimes this is a good thing : Ralph Lauren and Tommy Hilfiger stuff from years back, old favorite shirts and pants, even shorts from 3 summers ago!

And sometimes it's bad: Where the hell did I ever get Simpsons lounge pants?

It feels good to be able to wear this stuff again. (Not the lounge pants) There is even a pair of jeans (like new) from the Dark Ages that I can almost get in. I haven't worn a 33 or less since just after High School. That's a goal to strive for.

This time it feels better - the diet stuff I tried before didn't seem right. Now that I now how much I have to slog on the treadmill to lose a pound, I'll be thinking twice about that Honey Cruller. (I'll probably still eat it, but only one and I'll hit the gym the next day.)

I'm off to burn those lounge pants before anyone else sees them.

I'll deny they ever existed.




Later.

The Smell Of Commerce In The Morning.

Today the Sidekick and I (with the kids) traveled south and visited our personal mecca - Future Shop.

I could waste about 3 hours in that store and not buy a single thing. (That would drive the clerks crazy.) I just like to look, dream, and occasionally indulge in a new DVD or two.

Today was not to be that day.

You see, my kids aren't as enamored with the 'Shop as I am. They like looking at all the stuff, but with an attention span measured in nanoseconds they get bored easily. Thus most of my time is spent making sure they stay out of trouble and don't destroy anything Daddy can't afford to pay for. Needless to say, not much time is devoted to looking around.

After we left, The Sidekick and I remarked that we'd have to set up a day when we can go to the 'Shop sans kids and/or SO's. (I know it sounds like a date but it's not. - Two grown men setting up a time to go to an electronics store and maybe coffee isn't gay - it may look it, but it isn't. Mmkay?) That way we can devote a reasonable amount of time to browsing and not shortchange ourselves.

Trips to Mecca don't happen every day, right?


It'll be a bittersweet day if our town ever gets a Future Shop. I'll enjoy the convenience, but I think the magic and excitement will not be the same. It won't be a treat, and just be another common occurrence.


And that would be a shame.




Later.

MacGyver Of The Dairy.

There was a calamity in the Dairy Department today.

We had an important piece of equipment, necessary for the operation of the Dairy, break down. People were stunned - they didn't know what to do.

I walked on the scene, appraised the situation, and in 10 minutes had it working again.

What did I use?

2 Paperclips and some Duck Tape.


I'm a fucking genius.

Any Atomic bombs to disarm? All I need is tinfoil and chewing gum.


Anyone?

Hello?




Later.

Missing Post.

I had a post here, did anyone see it?

I blogged from YouTube - a great clip from Dave Allen - and normally it works like a charm.

Today was the Third Anniversary of Dave's Death, and I wanted to honor him by sharing his wit and wisdom with others.

But alas, Blogger fucked up and now you'll have to find it all on your own.


Sucks to be you.

Now I'm off to find that post.....




Later.

Olfactory Relief.

Update from my last post: My legs feel better now.

It's just the head cold that's a bitch.

I woke up this morning and for some reason I could only breathe out of one nostril. The other one was backed up like the Drive-Thru at McDonald's on Welfare Wednesday.

I can deal with a cough, but it's the runny, stuffed up nose that bugs me the most. I tilt my head and I can feel the gunk flowing around in my sinus cavities. (ewwww..)

I do have some slight relief. We got these new tissues with Vicks in them. That's correct people, we've achieved tissue perfection, right here. They work wonders to help open up the nasal passages and catch all the snot as well. Could you ask for anything more from a tissue?

I'm going to beat this cold into submission. I'm medicated, my tea is medicated, and even my fucking tissues are medicated. Between that and cardio tomorrow, I'm going to feel better by Monday - mark my words.

Now watch as I skyhook this tissue into the garbage, Kobe-style.



Later.

Painful Pound.

In an effort to secure my weight-loss contest lead, I pushed myself extra hard this week.

I was also fighting against the evening out that we had - (Thai food is worth the extra sweat.) so I jumped right into the new weight routine we were given. I busted though the upper body sections no problem, and the lower body stuff wasn't that hard either - except for lunges .

(Note: Lunges were invented by Satan as a form of punishment on the lowest level of Hell. They don't even make Hitler do lunges.)

My legs are in pretty good shape right now from all the running I've been doing, and I worked through the sets no problem. I even put some weight into the lunges, just to challenge myself a bit.

Big mistake - my legs were killing me yesterday.
Bigger mistake - I thought a run today would loosen them up, so I did 2.5 miles while I was on my lunch break. They felt really good - until after my run. Right now they feel like tight guitar strings, ready to snap. (Even stretches didn't help.)

The shitty part of all this: When I weighed in this week I only lost one pound. That's the least I've lost since starting this program. A loss is a loss, and I'll take it, but I'm going to bust my ass and make sure that I get better numbers next week. (Thank God almost everyone else tanked too - my lead is still secure.)

I'm taking tomorrow of from the gym, and just doing cardio on Sunday. Hoping the day off will give them a chance to get back to fighting shape.

Until then I'll be alternating between bags of ice and hot showers.

Or is that hot compresses and cold showers?

Whatever - I'll try both.




Later.

Slippery Situation.

All I want is a bar of soap.

I don't want one with lavender, strawberries, chamomile, exfoliates, apricots or whatever the hell else you stick in there. I don't want "essence" of anything - I just want soap.

When I get out of the shower, you know what I like to smell like? Me. I like to smell like me, but cleaner. If I want to smell different, I can always use cologne. Soap shouldn't be about smells - it should be about what gets the dirt off.

Why the hubbub about smells? Well, if my soap smells like lavander, my deodorant smells like "power ice" (whatever that is), and I wear Calvin Klein cologne, what does that make me?

Gay - that's what it makes me.

I just want a soap to make me clean - I can take care of the other smells myself.
(That's what burritos are for.)




Later.

Free The Hostage.

After recently having the opportunity to work on a couple of people's - I've decided I want a laptop.

Wanting and getting are two different things, though.

I'd like the freedom a laptop gives you. I wouldn't mind being able to play Poker & Blog while I'm in the living room. I seems a bit more social than being down the hall, secluded in my room. (If you have to ask how being on a computer is considered social, than you probably shouldn't be reading this Blog.)

I've also noticed that the measliest of laptops currently has more than twice the power of my desktop, even if they are shackled down by Vista. (I'm not a Vista hater, it just seems new and different.) It's not that I need tons of power to do what I do, but if it's there, I'd make use of it.

And darn it, they are just so pretty.

Problem is, every time I feel like spending money on myself, I choke. (This from the guy who waited two years to finally buy an HDTV.) I'm full of wants, but short on fulfilling those needs.

And so the scrimping and saving begins.

Oh look, I found a penny under the sofa.

Only 113,999 to go.




Later.

Dear Jeans Guy:

You're a mystery to me.

Almost every time I'm at the gym, you are there. Why do I notice you? Because of all the people in the place, you are the only one who works out in denim. Most others go for comfortable, breathable fabrics - but not you. You're a rebel.

At first I thought you were just some guy who was checking out the place to see if he likes it, but you kept showing up day after day to work out in your jeans. (If you can afford the membership, you can afford sweatpants.) As I run on the treadmill and see you pull up in your Trailer-Trash-busted-up 4x4, I wonder if today will be the day that you ditch the jeans. Then I see you work out, leave without showering, (ewww) and light up a smoke before you peel away from the parking lot.


I'll correct myself: You're not a mystery - you're an idiot.

And I feel dumber for having wasted my brain on pondering your existence.



Later.

Right Next To Godliness.

There's a guy in Toronto who has invented a device to remind Nurses and Doctors to wash their hands.

That scares me.

Not that the device was created, but that it's needed at all.

I don't know about you, but I expect my Nurses and Doctors to be clean and tidy. I don't want the woman who sponge-bathed Mr. Johnson's balls to forget to wash her hands and then hand me my oral thermometer. I hope that my Doctor wasn't just scratching his ass before he has to check anything involving mine.

Now I'm questioning past medical procedures. I don't recall seeing my Doctor wash up before he did my vasectomy. Mind you, I was freezing cold with my junk hanging out, so I wasn't paying attention. I'd just like to take it on faith that he did.

But from now on, I'll be watching, that's for sure.

"Turn my head and cough? Not until you've washed those grimy mitts, Doc."




Later.

Zzzzzzzzz......

I need sleep.

Between work and working out, I'm getting a little tired.

I think an early night will be what I need to recharge my batteries.

Tomorrow I shall bound out of bed, full of energy to start my day.

You all believe that, right?

I thought so.





Later.

Food For Thought.

This commercial is so funny and yet oddly disturbing.

I think that's why I like it.

Fancy a bite, anyone?



Later.