Was changing my clothes after work today and gave my shirt the old sniff test to determine re-wearability. It smelled of desperation and poverty. This job is getting to me today.
So I'm taking to my bed.
More accurately, I'm off to the couch with a mug of Edy's Tagalong ice cream and that movie about ping pong (or table tennis, whatever) that has Christopher Walken in it. I shall emerge when there is no more abject poverty in America. Or maybe just when my butt goes numb. Whichever happens first.
