Opening Statements.

It's 1:55am.  I bet every single cotton-based garment I've left in the dryer for the past hour while designing this new blog will resemble Montgomery Burn's dermal tissue by the time I arse myself away from the mac long enough to finish the laundry.  For whatever reason my biorhythm finds in mocking me, I can only imagine it must be a good one and this is why I slept until three o'clock this afternoon.  Are you kidding me, serotonin levels?  It's not like I've been extraordinarily vampiric recently.  I guess you were just trying to tell me to chill.  Which is cool, but now I'm not going to be able to sleep at all tonight and I'm going to have to self-medicate with a venti burst of espresso on my way to work.

Gee, thanks.

Why modern technology rocks, reason 214: individual-sized cartons of orange juice.

I have no purpose for this blog, and I won't try to pretend to keep one.  I just need an outlet.  But, knowing me, I'll mistakenly jam the prongs in backwards a time or two, and that... that should at least be enjoyable to watch.

And now it's 2:08.  And I want a smoke.  ...And more orange juice.