Outside by the blue, blue moon

Know what would be interesting? If Alyssa were loaded rich, or empress of a small island, and could afford to have veggie burger companies make her entire veggie animals—like a veggie patty shaped like a pig, or a peacock, or something. and she could roast it and bite into its flank like some weird barbarian queen, and the best part is that everything would be edible, even the nose!

There were no periods in that whole paragraph.

Andy and I were served up a whooooooole lot of free . . . soda at lunch today. It was not nearly a whooooooole lot enough. But it was nice. Perhaps that's a regular occurrence on this day, explaining the African-hospital-like megacrowd?

I'm writing this because I am desperately bored. My hands hurt from typing about sex therapists and gambling therapists and poetry therapists and drama therapists and adventure therapists and music therapists and art therapists. Most of these jobs are not even worth the time that I devote to them. But I must devote something to them, even if it is but a one-page report written between readings of Bookslut and Slate and Penny-Arcade (I can justify going to Penny-arcade.com now because Tuesday I had to write about cartoonists).

Someone get that weasel out of the bathtub.