Things are going well. Thighs are also going well.

Car update since I sure haven't told anything about it!!! At all!! My car, sweet, virtuous MacGyver, has suffered a grave injury to the main gasket. In other words, everything is wrong with it now, and I have to offer my first-born child* to the mechanic to even get him to try and fix it. Luckily, I've pried enough cash from the filthy clutches of my company to be able to pay for repairs and trade it in for something else. In other words, drinks all around! Or rather, ...aw heck, drinks all around! I'm probably going to be getting much the same car. Four door little thing with A/C and CD (but not an AC/DC) player, good gas mileage, and strong cheekbones. It doesn't need to be the most powerful thing in the world, so long as it can contain my winning personality! Does anybody have any advice or suggestions? I'm new to the high-stakes and high-danger world of used car sales, and I don't want to run afoul of dealerships with hordes of slope-faced thugs and overflowing secret graveyards.

I would write more but a Japanese lady stole my soul with a 30-minute phone call. Gahh!!!

But otherwise thighs are going well.

* Given my first-born is half-baby half-gold. I can accomplish this by either marrying a solid block of gold OR walking up to some random woman with gold bullion (not boullion) and saying "Hey toots, wanna make a baby? ...from gold, of course? Look, I have the sculptor's tools right here and...oh come on, can't we agree to disagree about the semantic ambiguity of that phrase? I contend that 'to the pure, all things are pure' and that 'make,' as a word, has a richer, broader history in describing creative production into ordered existence than it does as a euphemism for procreation. Granted, the tone and body language of the speaker are also important, yet I believe that my delivery, though somewhat awkward and frankly chilling, should not completely hide my good intentions..."

The kettle is a regular Billy Dee Williams

I made the mistake of falling asleep on the couch last night. Maybe this has something to do with my feelings of silent desperation and hockey hair. (No, I don't have feelings of hockey hair. I got in enough trouble from feeling Mr. T's hair.)

Some of you may appreciate this, which I briefly mentioned at a Happy Pirates practice some time ago: Pay particular attention to elements T and Tv.

Let's questioning. What does everybody do when, even though everything is outwardly going well, you feel like you need to unleash a Mighty Headbutt (tm) on the world? I have this feeling of unfulfilled-ness and discontent despite all the cool stuff that's going on. Maybe it's a midlife crisis. Maybe I just need to throw a brick through somebody's window. Could it be yours? Eh, I'll settle for mine.

I'll change the mood from self-pity and try not to make it saccharin: "I know that I'm not alone / The treasure of my heart is calling on the telephone / I've got my friends around me, they don't seem to hate me yet / My family lends me cash and they're not strict about the debt." I like rock 'n' roll bands that can package a real good message in a reasonably weird ...uhh, package. Pain is one of those bands, and I wish I could write like that. I guess I have written like this a little bit, with my ill-fated song "VCR Nomad." But Pain makes it seem effortless to talk about drawing half-boy half-rhinoceri and apply it to our own lives without hammering the idea into my skull.

Happy Pirates was good-like. My mind decided to tell me "Hey, you totally had an off night!", which may be true, but it does no good to dwell on it. So I punished my mind by drinking a few gallons of Drano. Sure, it maybe caused some serious liver damage, but to that I say "acceptable losses!" The next time you see me, I'll likely be a lovely golden color. If any of you try to pan for me, though, I'll likely find it highly inappropriate. Or, I don't know, mildly amusing, depending on who you are.

I felt the power of the PHANTOM MULLET today.

She got distracted in the meat department...

I don't have too much to say other than a) some things are just awesome b) other things are jawesome, as W.S.M. has reminded me c) you can dance if you want to; you can leave your friends behind.

There was originally a bit more of my half-baked philosophizing here, but suffice it to say that the good in my life is drowning out the bad. Or, as I like to envision, clubbing it in its shins and using, I don't know, the Jumping Jack Attack to go in for the kill.