Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster

" Like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick." 

That was the feeling I had once I finished watching a particular two-part episode on Dr. Who. It was so creepy that my heart actually fluttered from shock. I tried explaining this to my friends and they just smiled and nodded...and gently pet my head. They love me. 

Also, what happened last night is a clear example of how much of a klutz I am.  Not only did I spill water and break the glass while doing so, but I also broke a magnet on the fridge. How I did this I do not know...I had to touch it though it was a cow magnet. And since it was 1 in the morning it took all of my might to not bust a gut laughing at the retardedness of the situation. These two events happened within mere minutes of each other: Petro just finishes cleaning up my mess, turns around, then realizes he has to glue a magnet back together....at that point I was banished to stand still and not move. Today I'll find out if his mom bitched at him or not...hehehehehe. 

In the midst of Doctorin' the Tardis and making an ass out of myself, I managed to be quite productive and FINALLY laid out the structure of the ezine....I already gave out assignments as well.  This week I am meeting with some very good friends who will help and offer advice and get this thing off the ground. I am hoping by summer time I will have more than enough content and info to have the site up an running. And it gives me enough time to think of a name...I did have one in mind previously but now I'm quite tired of it so I'm juggling with a few options. We shall see...

Odd little news I found out on Saturday: an ex of mine from ages ago chatted up with me on MSN and decided to tell me all nonchalant-like that he was shot at a few weeks ago. And then he proceeds to tell me he has to get going. That's the problem with him, I never know whether he is telling the truth or whether he just randomly tells me these things to get me thinking about him. I don't know...the dude is married now but that's a whole other topic that I'll get to eventually. So at a local bar he "probably pissed off the wrong American" and he shot him in the stomach. Luckily it was just a graze but fuck he made it as if it was merely a flesh wound! That's the way he is: he drops you a bomb like that and then leaves, like it's no big deal....no wonder we broke up...

I have to go to work soon, and I REALLY don't feel like it. Again, how hard is it to choose a number between 1-10? It is almost as if people are too afraid to commit themselves to a number and they feel that this rating shall forever be written in stone and as a result they will be firing 10,000 Bell employees from Bangladesh.  Uh, no. Grab a hold of your shriveled up balls and give me a proper answer for the love of fuck...

I love Mondays...