Sitting in the car at a stop light on the way back to the office after lunch, behind an older Caucasian gentleman in a pick up truck with a Dixie flag bumper sticker that says "Fighting Terrorists Since 1861!" My first thought is, what the hell does that even mean? Then my second thought is, this man would not be hired to landscape my yard or even scoop my dog's poop out of said yard. Two businesses, that in addition to his ignorance, his pick up truck is advertising. Plus he's chewing tobacco, nearly hitting my car with his wet, brown saliva. Gag. Which is more repugnant, the lame bumper sticker or the gleeking? It's a tie.
I'm not sure I could get through the work day without access to music. Any music, but preferably of my own choosing.
A Wings song, even covered by Axl Rose is still a Wings song.
Lemon bars were created by a kind and benevolent God/Goddess/Superior Being/FSM.
If I had a lot of money I would make massive donations to Kiva. Right now I should make a small donation to Kiva. I'm going to do that. It will make me hate Monday less.
This is the view out of my office window. I like having a window. It makes me a more accurate weather reporter. I think I'm up there with Gary Lezak. Without the personal trainer partner.
I also think that Jason Kottke would receive an invitation to the Twain/Glass dinner party. Anyone who has these three stories on their website is guaranteed to keep the conversation stimulating. Oh, and Sufjan Stevens. Though he doesn't have to talk. He can sing.
Do they offer classes to learn to control facial expressions? Like bluffing class? Should I just sit in front of my mirror and have someone provoke me so I can learn to hide my feelings? I am not good at this. Though I'm a decent liar when needed.
How much pink is too much pink when it comes to clothing? I think the lady walking her dog across the street this afternoon answered that question for me. After age 80 who cares? And the matching pink hat tied the whole thing together.
I have Cape May diamonds on my windowsill. Mine are unpolished. I like them that way.
I'm between books, which one should I start tonight: The Murderer's Daughters or Sexing the Cherry or The Club Dumas? (That's not pronounced dumb ass. I don't think so at least.)
Is it quitin' time?
Damn, this database is an idiot.
This spreadsheet has a vendetta against me.
I am anthropomorphizing software. It is time to go home.