Friday. The 13th. Seems like any other Friday to me, but that's how they get you, the little bastards. Ask not for whom the bastards troll, they troll for thee - deedle-dee-dee - living as they do in shadow, whispering as they will in your ear when you're feeling low and your guardhouse is empty. And they do lie, my buckos, they do lie. Although I suspect I'm preaching to the choir.
Sounds like a standard incoherent Friday to me, deedle-dee-dee.
Yes it does. The pump needs priming as I sit here running on empty with a head full of cement. A long day today at the end of a long week. I need days in bed, not necessarily alone in bed, but in bed: head on a pillow, radio tuned to old farts rock and roll, curtains drawn, cell phone unplugged. That and maybe a bottle of sake. But I drift.
I added the Haloscan comment section to my pages last week (wondering if I'd be embarrassed by not getting any entries, I must admit), but it seems the Haloscan site is having problems and my pages hang when I try to bring them up. So I axed the Haloscan code. Later I checked their site and saw they were doing data center maintenance and warning their web site would be down. Good idea, this Haloscan, but I'll find something else if I'm going to add comments to my deathless ramblings.
Saturday. Congratulations to Pamie, who's evidently been pitching a TV series based on her new book “Why Moms Are Weird”, and has been requested to script a pilot by ABC, deedle-dee-dee.