Wasn't that a Steven King title? After a long week of bifurcated sleep - sleep for 3 hours, wake up, be up until 5 in the morning, go back to sleep until 9 or 10 a.m. - last night I stayed up doing laundry and hanging out with the furballs until 3 a.m.
Finally I stayed asleep long enough to get the backwash of mental trash out of my subconscious with a series of the strangest freaking dreams. The kind that make you feel slightly unreal once you do awaken.
And I was planning a sharp and insightful post today (wow, what a change, you say) along the lines of American Idol voting and two people I know who want to vote for Sarah Palin (not McCain) because her husband could fix the toilet at the White House if it needed it.
But the idea hurts my brain so bad even after a couple cups of coffee.
So I shall resort to the tried and true:
When I can't be smart or funny, heeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrreeeeee'ssss
Thor and Loki!
How do you know if your cats are too spoiled?
They have a toy chest.
Two part question: Why I can't I get anything written and why do I think Thor is part dog?
Thor sez: Rub my belly.