My mind that is...
I cannot shake the internet headline I read the other day: Scary Spice Pregnant With Eddie Murphy's Baby? So many aspects of that assault my delicate sensibilities, it's like I’m trying to look at a four dimensional object spinning on one of those heat lamp hot dog things.
I cannot stop thinking about how I really want to throw away my happy-go-lucky customer service script and throw in a well placed “are you fucking kidding me?” to a large majority of the people I have to deal with for a living.
I cannot get Grandaddy’s Campershell Dreams out of my head.
I cannot shake the sort of melancholy feeling that is riding the knowledge that we end the show tonight. I’m gonna miss these people, I’m gonna miss this world.
I also have a hankering for a scotch and soda, and a Rueben.
Rocktober song of the day: Closer by Nine Inch Nails.
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