Monday, April 12, 2004

I originally planned to sit you down, gentle reader, and give you expert commentary on the topic of my choice. You would respond, in turn, by cherishing and internalizing the commentary as if it were a three-legged whore. Sometimes we don’t get what we want, though, and I’m reminded of the time when I asked for a five-legged pony and didn’t get one.

Did I weep big, crocodile tears? Not at all. I found myself a six-legged pony, is what I did. This transitions perfectly into my main point. A gigantic metal hippo flew over my head and shat all over me this past weekend, heaping pounding headache upon pounding headache on my poor self. Roughly translated, this means I suffered two delayed flights. What I wouldn’t give to get my yachts back.