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The photo blog has been updated.

Sylvia's Specific Description of Babies

Infants look like worm heads, magnified.

This is what happened after I sent you that email this morning.

The usual over-the-top “How are YOU today?” greeting was hard to respond to this morning. I knew she had the power to fire me on the spot, but maybe that’s what I was asking for when I said, “Well, I ‘m sober. Let’s just settle for that this morning, huh?”

She, now in tears, accused me of twisting her words around and veered unstably into her corner office.

I sipped my coffee and waited for my next email to come through.

Would you be my friend if I...

• asked you to tie my sad and uncool shoes?
• told you I walked into the voting booth and was confused about how the hole punching stuff worked on my ballot so I just did whatever?
• eagerly took your business card so that I could finally complete my house o' cards?
• snobbishly remarked that the words "Rob Thomas" don't exist in my vocabulary?
  
• ate small children (especially the ones who don't run fast)?
• compiled these lists in my head at work so that there was no room left for work-related information? (C'mon, that's what tomorrow is for!)
• Poppycock!--made poppycock the new cool expression for teens?
  
• told you, look, I really need a friend and I accept that I'm uncool but you seem to be open-minded so why don't we give it a try and if it doesn't work out I'll buy you some new flip flops because yours are looking pretty ratty?
  

Review of Rock Star: Supernova

Oh shut up and read.

I have two reasons for watching the show: One, the rockers. And two, it's all about the music, (if it wasn't also for the rockers). Combined, these elements form Rock Star: Supernova. Rock music is passion and not giving a damn about what other people say. Know it!

Unfortunately, that sort of delusion bores me, and over half the contestants (the whiny Chris being the worst) should be eliminated before the ratings start to sink. Especially annoying is when each of them, in introducing themselves to the tv watching world, default to the whiny phrase: Music is My Passion. Well isn't that nice? By the way, writing is my passion: I'm living a friggin' dream come true with this blog.

My Brain Cells Die at Work

Shit, what was I going to do?