How come I can’t get Jury duty? I look in the mail every day when I get home, hoping that today will be the day that I am given an excuse to take a vacation from work. If I was on the jury I would constantly raise my hand and ask questions, using a list of the most complex words I could find in the dictionary, so the chick typing it all would get all messed up. I’d also bring a bag of individually wrapped butterscotch candies. Mmmmm, butterscotch.

Why is it that I cannot find a pair of tennis shoes that suits my fancy, and my feetsy? Am I simply just to old and out of touch with where the design of tennis shoes has gone?! It’s not even like I have a safe haven/shoe maker to rely on. Every single designer is off on some weird tangent and pulling designs out of their asses. I mean who buys this stuff? And who thinks this stuff will sell?

And why is it every time I pick my nose, it’s full again in two minutes? Funk dat!

Last night we saw Luke Fair & John Digweed @ Ruby Skye. Digweed was evil, as usual. Too much to drink = zero tracks trainspotted. Oh well, next time (although I say that every time). Some asian girl tried to dance with Bryan, apparently there some eye-contact issue :P. Bryan better not have an eye contact problem in Vegas! Beoomm, beoomm.