Scrub-A-Dub-Dub-Step...

 Deep in thought? Fashionably pensive?
Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
Deciding between sliders and somewhere that has tacos on their all you can eat buffet?
Perhaps, but not really. More likely, I'm not thinking at all. Or trying not to...

I will preface my next insightful comments by saying this picture of Frank was taken without his permission. Can't a dirty freak take a shit in peace? So anyhoo...
What I'm trying to say is that no matter how hard I might try to look like the first picture of Mr. Thinker, I end up looking like crap taking crap.
Of course, I'm not saying Frank is crap. You know what I'm saying...
I want an island, or somewhere deep in Montana, where I can raise me a crop o' dental floss.
I will only communicate with the masses via Skype, or whatever tickles my fantasy.
Until I am no longer at odds with the rest of the world...
Then would I return to claim my throne.
The Prince of Lies...
King of Nothing...
Fool.

I often wonder if I am just that. Then delusions of grandeur kick in. That's what they feel like after awhile, but are they?
I find it hard to believe it is ME all the time.

I saw Total Recall this weekend. It was surprisingly good, just minus the awesome cheese of Arnold Schwartzenblahblah. Also surprising is that I'd recommend it, very actiony...
Also saw The Possession, which sucked balls. If you suck balls metaphorically, then this is for you.

Other than that, just hanging in there. Fighting the demons in my head; sometimes winning, sometimes not so much. All you can do is keep punching. Right now, for some reason, everything I type just isn't working for me. You ever get that feeling? Just...
Nothing. Nothing to share, nothing of worth anyway.
Writer's block!!!
Wish it was contagious, and I had a sweet DeLorean that time traveled, I'd go back in time and give Stephen King a deadly dose of it.
Sorry, I'm rereading It. I find myself skimming the silly drivel he lays on pretty thick. I bet he was a complete doof. Nobody probably liked him, and he probably talked to himself, wishing bad things on them. Maybe Carrie is a wishful autobiography, and he'd love to be the Prom Queen, or was it homecoming? I don't remember...
I'm just saying he's not even 1% of all the praise heaped on him. He just wrote alot of dirty words, threw in some wishful sex, and BOOM...
Young teens hanging on his every word. Genius, I'll admit, but in the end kind of dumbs down a few generations in the process. Clive Barker blows him away. I love Cabal.
Anyway, enough rambling. I'm watching Scrubs with my kid and we are on episode 14 of season 1, a very long way to go. I will keep up the tally as I post later. We might even eventually get all the way through them.
It's an ok show, I'm not enthralled by it, but it's decently watchable so far...