…has been careless, slipshod. Ironies abound, of course. My work, the reflection of myself, may be careless, but my self is not. My self is burdened with care. Woe. As for slipshod, well… as the poet said, don’t judge me by my shoes (on the other hand, they’re Eccos, rough suede loafers with a rolled seam, waterproof — “slipshod” is more a figure of speech…).

Today, I’ve played the Catcher in the Squid, driving results down for all the assholes who needed to make the z-list a network marketing competition, and driving the numbers up for the Head Lemur, who I hope will correct the typo of my name in his sidebar (and drop the extra trailing slash that breaks the link to this place).

With all this important systems work, when do I have time to reflect, to write? I did pause to watch Tom Hanks, Audrey Tatou, and Jean Reno embarrass themselves in the search for the holy grailette. Too bad that the movie omitted the Italian locations, but hell it was a terrible book and the movie was worse.

Looking forward to 007 this weekend. Maybe we can make it a double feature and catch Dream Girls too.

Have to go and eat chocolate now, it’s almost time for bed.

(But how about that AT&T!! If we’ll give them a license to steal our money, they double dog promise not to deprive us of our bandwidth — princes among the corporate elite, they are).

Nitey-nite…