The new best friend. The olde headboard...

The world melted and ran with another day wasted, another day you can never have back again.

I was unproductive today. The more I plan to do, the less things get done. So much of life feels like waiting. It's like war, endless boring waiting interrupted by brief periods of terror. Every two years or so I anymore I feel myself ready for and needing a change on some massive level. Apparently moving wasn't the change I sought. I feel like I need something more drastic, but I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the novel screaming at me, begging to be published. I have work to do, and it isn't getting done. This changes today. If I were at home I'd say it changes now.

For the record, I'm pretty sure Grima Wormtongue was embezzeling...

Rohirrim


To which race of Middle Earth do you belong?
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And I thought silicone was bad when you put it on the *inside*

Security patrol. My job. I do it well. On this night I find myself standing beneath a ceiling-suspended tv set in the financial office, staring numbly up at a late-night commercial the like of which I have never seen: soft, slimy silicon appliances designed for women to affix to their soft and tender womanly parts, this enabling them to sculpt their cleavage like so much clay. Egads, thought I, it's like the best features of a push-up bra and an alien parasite all rolled into one! Finally, an, um, article of clothing, for want of a better term which blurs the line between undergarment and bionic enhancement! Just as undergarments always should have been from the start. Oh, the folly of humanity. Apparently, there are women willing to pay strangers $19.95 + shipping to slather something warm and slimy onto their tits, yet in all likelihood will not let their husbands and boyfriends do it for free. Sad, I tell you. Sad, sad, sad.

I wonder if that commercial ever comes on when people are working up there? Now THAT would be funny.