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The Ball Game Has Finished The Star Wars Episode I jackets arrived today. One of my fellow slaggers in IS has a friend who works for Industrial Light & Magic and she took orders from anyone in our group who wanted to go in with them on an order they were placing for their production crew. They're slick and although I don't care to own one myself, I should have called my sister on the spot (busted my butt and tracked down the phone number) to get my nephew's jacket size (men's small). I think this is something uncles are supposed to do. For $140 I could have made the uncle big leagues and cruised on that rep, who knows, maybe for years, and instead I give up and screw the pooch. Stupid.
I can cut the ennui around here with a knife so I think maybe I've got
I have Ally McBeal running in the background as I write this.
What I'm saying here, actually, in front of god and everyone is that there is a program on television that I'm probably going to tune into every Monday night, except, of course, for the fact this was the last episode of the season. A bit like the Star Wars jacket, don't you think, buying a ticket just when the ball game has finished? |
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the short term won't last very long (please, dear god, let that be
true) empty white noise can't focus inside my head blues. There are
a half dozen things going on I could write about, but the mind is not
cooperating. I got nine hours sleep last night, so it isn't because I'm
tired (unless I'm not sleeping very well because this operation on my
jaw didn't really work and correct the sleep apnea, ha! ha!) and the
work went well today, I got some things done, so I'm not sure what
in the hell this white noise in the head blues is all about. Except
I get it every now and then. Like everyone else.
I wonder who's on the writing team? This is the favorite show of many of
the younger journalers in the Journal Ring, the