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April 24, 2008 :: Four day workweek. That's what the %$*% I'm talkin' about!

When I started this post, it was last thursday. See above for evidence of my procrastitude.

Today is my Friday. A good mantra for any day of the week, actually, as just thinking those four words kind of puts me in a freer state of mind than say, the galumphing dirge of Tuesday, or the anxious resignation of Sunday night.

I've had a number of post topics swirling around this week. Unfortunately, none made it past the planning stages as I am, in general, a bit scattered at the moment. Allergies and too much caffiene, probably. Brief highlights from the past 7 days:

- "So, I paid $35 for a $20 placenta." See: adventures in brewing your own spring wine. Any recipe that includes "donkey skin glue" and should sit on the shelf for 6 months before you add more vodka (and then leave it to sit for another 6 months before consumption) is probably outside my range of alcoholic beverage tolerance. I sucked down some home made absinthe once, and found I couldn't lift my arms for the better part of an hour. One drunken psychotic break in a lifetime is enough, thank you.

- Blake and my visit to the Variety Playhouse for Nick Lowe.
What a smart, charming, softly-self deprecating, catchy, sad, sweet, rockin' set, that was. Suck it, moody singer-songwritertypes with drooly end-rhyme lyrics, grandpa Lowe's got you all beat, hands down . I've got a serious greyhair crush going.

- A double girly whammy on Tuesday. This spot-on letter, and graffiti in the Variety restroom: "War is just menstruation envy."

- The introduction, in force, of the term "douchenozzle" to the lexicon. In the Loaf, from Mr. Rainey's mouth, and 'round the office.

There's more, but I have to go teach writers and designers about writing and designing for the web now.

Later, interweb.