Sigh. It�d be funny if it wasn�t so serious. I suppose we should�ve seen it coming. For once, the media was actually tenacious, pushing and pushing this issue of WMDs, and instead of digging himself farther into a hole, the P�s finally decided to investigate. Coincidence that results won�t be available till after the election? Hm?
It�s all nauseating.
Sigh.
So I finally got on the stick and filled out the stuff for that Orkut thing. Then I sat there for a good while, trying to think of people I know who�d have any interest in it. As I was shouting to someone yesterday, I�m not so much of a joiner. Neither are most of my pals. I�m far more inclined to be the stoic character in the corner, earnestly gazing at my shoes, jaw clenched, actively not participating in the group sing-along. I�m not so good with these thingies. And my picture�s two years old now, from an Oscar party, because I won�t hop on the technology bandwagon and get a digital camera. No computer, so no scanner. These are my excuses.
I was just at home, flipping through newspaper ads, when I had a bit of a breakdown over the concept of rice cookers and egg cookers. Yes, there are now special appliances to make your hard- or soft-boiled eggs. Much as I dig stuff, especially kitchen gadgets, what the bloody hell is wrong with people that they can�t dump rice in a pan with water and cook it up? Same with eggs. Why all the useless crap?
Oy.
Yep, I reckon I�m having what my coworkers like to point out as another �old day.� I should be sitting at home on the porch, shaking a cane at passers-by, shouting at children to get off my lawn.
It was the politics, maybe. I keep awakening to political talk on NPR in the mornings, so I start off angry.
And, well, I had this awful dream about Ed Asner over the weekend, and I can�t shake it. Not Mary Tyler Moore-era Ed Asner, but Big Fish-era Ed Asner. Even worse, the Ed Asner in my dreams was teasing me about what he called an �ample� posterior.
See? Pretty bloody hard to get that out of my mind.
Help me.