I used to blog a little, but a little wouldn't do it, so the little got more and more.

Even though it's only Monday (tell me why - I don't like Mondays!), it feels like Tuesday (Dawn must be in trouble). And I'm slightly having a case of the UTP@.

At work today I screened (that's the technical jargon for viewing or watching or wasting two hours of one's life) the movie The Fantasticks. I thought of CassyLee while I was watching it, because it's a musical, and I know that of all the P@riots out there, she'd be the one who would've most likely have seen it. Oh, and Kirk, because he's seen a buttload of movies.

Also, this movie had Joel Grey. Buffy connection! Joel Grey reminds me of Norman Bates, though. Not Anthony Perkins, but Norman Bates. Everytime he was Grey was onscreen, I expected him to begin talking to his dead mother. And, yes, I've confirmed - yet again - that my brain is indeed a very strange place.

Oh, so, The Fantasticks. It totally was one of the worst musicals I've ever seen. Worse, even, then...well, no, I generally like every musical. This one, though, was just lackluster. I enjoyed maybe 40% of the songs, and couldn't tolerate the daughter at all. I don't know why, exactly, she just bugged me.

On the upside, though, there was no nudity or profanity to remove. So, there ya go.

I have several emails that I need to respond to. And comments. And I want to continue working on my story. But I'm going to wash dishes instead of doing any of those things. Because the dishes need to be done. Dude. Heh.

I wonder if I should count this entry on the 17th. Hmm. I think I'll give it (Pepsi?) partial credit.

Tomorrow is payday, finally. Better, though, will be the payday on the 28th, when the raise (from the start of the year) will take effect, along with the retroactive pay that goes along with it. Yahoo! Money.

My blog ID, according to the url up top of the screen is 3869370. I'm very tempted to call that phone number and see who answers. Maybe I will do that some day from the safety of work. I'll report on what happens.

The pizza was not heart shaped, sadly.

I have several blog topics, but not the focus (bofus?!) to actually follow through. Eventually, I suppose.

You know what's odd? Fingerprints. I think I may have discussed this with the Jupe previously. And/or the Steph. But anyway. Fingerprints don't truly serve any evolutionary function, do they? I mean, yeah, I suppose they provide a minimal amount of grip for picking things up. But why should everyone's fingerprints be unique? That's just weird. It's as though evolution were providing CSI workers with ...ammuntion for capturing criminals. But that's ..wrong. Man, my brain is not working right. Suffice to say that fingerprints are the latest piece of (ancedotal?) evidence toward the case that evolution has/had someone behind it all. [/waht?]

Speaking of whatever I'm thinking about right now, hubris is funny. Or tragic, perhaps. (Originally typed - prehaps. Hee. "prehaps". And posthaps! I truly am amusing myself to death tonight) But, yeah, the fact that our station has some movie contracts with certain distributors that end in 2022 makes me simultaneosly amsued and bemused. Maybe even demused. (Not cemused, though. I'm not average. [no, I'm really not. Count for yourself.])

I do believe I mentioned doing dishes several paragraphs up. I think I ought to do that now.