Reboot Before Work

Instead of going to the gym this morning, I stayed home and did some cooking. I now have heaps of wrap ammo: Japonica rice, purple cabbage, yellow pepper, kidney beans, peas, and corn all mixed together in a colourful, tasty medley. Just add a bit of chicken, some cheese, and wrap it all up in flatbread, and I've got tasty, healthful lunches for the week. Mmm...

Now, I simply must restart my computer before I go to work. It's slowed down to the rate of glaciation. Yikes.

But first, here's what's clogging it up:

NSFW Furry Wrongness: So very, very wrong, but they look so very, very happy.

Attacked by nude man with one roller skate: "Police believe the attack was a protest against advertising material included in the newspaper delivery." Somehow, that doesn't seem a sufficient enough explanation.

'Literary' texts no more? Project reduces classic works to text messages: "John Milton's epic poem 'Paradise Lost' begins 'devl kikd outa hevn coz jelus of jesus&strts war.'" And so you can see what such a motion picture might look like, here's Hamlet.

Unpop Art: Some art definitely NSFW, but definitely worth a look. I'm particularly fond of Charles Krafft's porcelain work.

Heineken: Beer of the goths.

Good Bad

Yay! It's a good beginning. I just got a call by everyone's favourite call centre weirdo here: the club guy. Usually, he babbles at high speed incomprehensibly, with mention that he is not a homosexual, and that he wants you to call a particular phone number right away. Then he hangs up on you. It's over so quickly, that most people don't know what hit them. As of today, he's called me four times. This time, it started off the same way as usual, but for the first time, I decided to talk to him. "Hi, Club Guy!" I said. "How are you doin'?"

This stepped him up into high gear, and he began screaming like a death metal vocalist.

He really ought to move to Norway and start up a band with Burzum.

So that was the "good" news.

The bad news is I think my migraine is returning, albeit in a diminished capacity. I suspect this one is triggered hormonally, as it seems to coincide with my monthlies. Hoorah. My vision is wonky, and I'm once again floating around in a dreamlike state. I suppose I'd better take an Advil to see if I can achieve equilibrium. And I ought not to look down. Every time I look down at my fingers, I see a massive garden of blind spots and speckles. Not good.