things flitting around in my head

Mantra: Will not eat McDonald's for dinner again this week. Will. Not. (Repeat until little cartoon depictions of French (freedom!) fries stop dancing in head like so many sugarplum fairies with tiny, lavender shoes and bouquets of pretty flowers, just for me.) Just as a guess (or horrible warning; you choose), I m...i...g...h...t eat ice cream for dinner though. Mmmm, Ice Cream for Dinner. I love you, ice cream. Creamy deliciousness. Ice cream and Diet Coke. They cancel each other out, right? RIGHT?!? Is ice cream for dinner better than more grease and salt? Nope. But Ice Cream for Dinner = Driving Straight Home from Work Instead of Stopping for Food. Shrug. It's the little things that get me, really.

I had a moment during the day when I was all-of-a-sudden really really happy I'm not this guy. (Seriously, dude. They're called pants. Buy a pair.) I'm not sure what led to said Happy Moment, but it was there, all Pink and Refreshing, sort of like a tall, cold glass of pink lemonade, only I think pink lemonade sucks ass, so what else is Pink and Refreshing? Okay, probably not that. That's more like Pink-and-Will-Probably-Get-You-Arrested-If-You-Return-Her-Phone-Calls-To-Go-'Cause-Some-Trouble.' Just a guess.

I'm beginning to froth at the mouth just waiting for NaNoWriMo to start. November 1st, baby! Oh yea, oh yes, WordGeek™ am I.

I'm off work in 21 minutes and have been, again, left unsupervised by King Verbose. I would be so out of business if I owned my own business. Self-discipline? What is this concept of which you speak?