I'm bored, lonely, hungry, cold, and stuck at work for another 20 minutes. Fasten your seatbelt.
First: Today is K's birthday. I loves her.
Next: We got a book in recently called something like "Dealing With Stalin", and at first I thought "Well HERE'S a book no one will ever read!" but then I thought that maybe a core of old, hardliner Soviet scientists was working right now on creating an army of cyborg ninja Stalin clones, and that we might need that book after all.
Also: I got mad again for a while because Microsoft has turned computer science departments of all but the most elite Universities into tradeschools for Win32 app generation monkeys. Then my hands got too cold for me to be upset anymore.
Finally: The great poet Jon Bon Jovi, in one of his finest works, gives us these exhortations:
* The current temperature, out of direct sunlight, is 99F
* Someone should inform a group of adolescent males that he is
* He has the radio in his father's GM automobile turned to maximum volume
* He has a festival of some sort in his trousers
* Today is payday, and he has recieved remuneration for work performed during the last pay period.
* He reiterates that the temperature is 99, 99, 99 in the shade.
Then, cryptically, he half-whispers: "I can almost taste it." Scholars have argued for decades now over the antecedent of "it" in this line, but I believe that I can now reveal what I believe to be the referrent of said pronoun:
Sweaty uncut trucker cock
I have discovered a truly remarkable proof of this which this entry is too small to contain.