It's not about making mistakes, it's about making choices, and I choose to make a mistake

The White House press corps finally grows a pair and tries to put the screws to Bush's press secretary.

Coke Zero is tasty. A pound of chicken nuggets for breakfast is not. Now is probably not the time to look at close-up pictures of eyeballs thoughtfully submitted by our Saskatonian readers.

I've blissfully got the house to myself for up to an hour. So exciting! I'll probably spend it on the living room floor, wailing in chicken nugget overdose agony.

Oh, this is exciting, too: for lunch my aunt bought a bunch of hot dogs and buns. My mom made baked lasagne on Sunday for our guests, and they're returning the favor with hot dogs. I think that's sweet.

Did I say "sweet"? I meant "rather insulting". Don't get me wrong, I know I'm the biggest freeloader of them all. As such, I can smell my own kind, and I think this stinks.

In equally pointless news:
Today's subject line is a quote from an episode of Strangers With Candy; I'm not altogether certain how, or even if, it applies to this post. I've just had it kicking around in my head for a while, and now you can, too!