Beep beep ... beep

OH MY GOD this is killing me. Two more hours of sitting here until I can go home. I just watched the Rifftrax of Halloween, and boy was it ever not funny. Also not funny? Sitting here for two more hours until I can go home.

I could edit photos, but then how will I kill time tomorrow? No; Wednesday is make corrections day, Thursday is edit photos day. Wednesday is also lunch day. This Wednesday? Turkish. Great or not great? Not great. Gassy now? A bit. Sleepy? Always.

Additionally, this Wednesday is couldn't see My Bloody Valentine at the Hammerstein Ballroom last night day. Based on everything I've read about their recent shows, I would now be deaf if I had been able to go. I really gotta find out if Ben had been able to sell my ticket, or if I owe him. Of course I owe him. I owe everyone in one way or another. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.

If Wednesday were a toe, it would have roast beef. I was always perturbed by the insufficient details in that piggy-toe thing. I always thought the five little piggies lived together, in some sort of little piggy house; they are high-functioning swine, what with going to market and all, so it stands to reason that they'd share accomodations to cut costs. It's kind of a dick move, then, for one little piggy to have roast beef while another little piggy has none. Maybe the little piggy is having roast beef is the same little piggy who went to market. This little piggy went to market and had roast beef, while this little piggy stayed home and had none. We will overlook the fact that four separate toes are cast in those two roles, as the entire premise is absurd and not worth closer inspection; toes are not pigs, after all. But the question remains: the little piggy that went wee-wee-wee all the way home -- was that the market little piggy or the home little piggy? (I'm not sure what sound was made by the last little piggy, so I'm using "wee-wee-wee" because I have goat-footed balloonmen on my mind.)

Oh sweet Jesus, 1 hour and 24 minutes to go. Oh sweet Jesus, I'm tempted to see that new Kirk Cameron movie where he plays a firefighter whose addiction to internet porn destroys his marriage and then makes him smash up his computer. But I don't want to pay money to see it. Or waste time seeing it. I wish I could get all the laughs from seeing it without seeing it, bascially. There's apparently a scene where porn addict/firefighter kisses his wife, but Kirk Cameron believes his lusty smooches are reserved for his wife because marriage and god and the bible, so they had Kirk Cameron's real wife put on a wig and she stood in for the actress playing Kirk Cameron's character's wife. MSNBC calls this plan "movie magic" but I call it "who gives a shit" and "why is Kirk Cameron still making movies?"

Come on come on, 1 hour and 23 minutes to go. Come on, daddy needs a new haircut. I'm getting a haircut this evening from Oscar at the hair salon at the mall. Oscar always advises me to get some hair stiffener to stiffen my hair, or maybe it's hair volumizer to volumize my hair; I can't remember because I never buy it. Or do I never buy it because I can't remember? Now there, THERE, is a philosophical question that I can spend hours considering. Hours, but I only need 1 hour and 20 minutes. That's not nearly enough time to come to a conclusion, but just enough to get me out of here.