velocity

A new low in American marketing:

I left the TV on while I took a shower this morning, and when I got out, I heard Sir Mix-a-Lot. I went out into the living room, and it was in fact a Target commercial, "Baby Got Back...To School". There's just something so wrong about seeing little kids dancing around while some sound-alike chump sings, "I like back-packs,...
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A conversation with a coworker yesterday resulted in the two of us pretending to be the Almighty Shatner singing, "Eeeesperanto...Why won't you come to your senses?"

I've had that stuck in my head ever since.

Though I'm not much of a song writer when I'm awake, I've now written two country songs in my sleep. Maybe by the time I'm 35, I'll have a whole album.

I really hate it when an author uses a work of fiction as a soap box from which to preach their own views. I've read six books by a certain author and loved every single one of them, but I've just spent three weeks forcing myself through the first twenty-five pages of the seventh book. Why? Because he chose to use the first twenty-five pages...
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Last night I found myself staring at the ceiling, wondering what Richard Grieco has been up to since 21 Jump Street. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep until I found out.

And that's how insomnia works in my brain. Get up, look up Richard Grieco's career on IMDB, go back to bed and sleep like a baby.

Some people I know couldn't get away with writing a journal entry about it every time they eat fried chicken, but I can.

In other words, I've really got nothing to say.

Today's update is all about the horrible things people do to their children that make my days so full of mirth.

I talked to a guy today, and his name was seriously Bandit T. Outlaw. I asked him if that was the name his parents gave him, and he said it was. I like to think his middle name was Trucker. Oh Bandit Trucker Outlaw,...
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