Just woke up from a dream in which I drove backwards all the way to Pensacola, Florida and when I got there I realized I forgot to pack my tampons, and all the stores there were closed. So I drove all the way back to New York. Backwards. I woke up feeling car sick.
I'd like to thank the voters of California for sending Gary Condit a message and, more importantly, sending him packing.
It's almost spring, and of course my thought are turning to baseball and March Madness. It looks like the business as usual for the Mets and for Derek Jeter is starting to make a tradition out of spring training injuries. I'm probably the only Yankee fan who doesn't care for Jeter, and that's only because I see him as a future Ricky Henderson. No, that's not a compliment.
Not a whole lot going on in my head today. I'm working on a story that I promised Phineas I would tell, but I'm debating whether tellling the story of my strange week with a crazed celebrity would cause trouble for me or not. So, if I didn't say her name (to avoid the bizarre google searches I would get here) and I just said blonde, gold-digging, psuedo-actres with big tits, you would know who I was talking about, right? Ok then. Maybe I'll tell the story tomorrow.
Today is Wednesday, so it's website o' the day over in the sidebar and today's choice is The Caption Machine. I love making captions. I've done it over at Dodd's place and at Blogatelle, and now there's one more place to make fun of nuns and pets and poor, unsuspecting webloggers.
Oh, look. My coffee pot is leaking.