This is, quite possibly, the only time I ever pretend to be Shirley Temple--eating animal crackers, but sans soup. Mine, in fact, came in a cute box with lions and tigers and bears (oh my!) on the front. When's the last time you ate a box of animal crackers? That's what I thought. Go buy some today.

(Paid for by the Animal Cracker Eaters Assn)

Just kidding. There is no such group, nor did they pay me to plug NABISCO PRODUCTS, the GREATEST products around. Just ignore the pallet of animal crackers over in the corner--nothing to see, nothing to see.

But seriously, how great are animal crackers? They're so great for the workplace--don't like someone, just bite their head clean off and have a satisfying crunch as bonus. Yummy.

~~~~~

I see it, but I don't believe it

What is with the current obsession with all things 80s recently? We just left the decade, people. Give it a little time to recover before asking it to repeat its attacks on humanity and common decency yet again. Let the jelly shoes take a load off, let the Flashdance sweatshirts breathe, let the Z Cavariccis unroll. And, for the love of baby Jesus, let the New Wave remain where it is and don't try to mix it into the current dance music. If I have to go to the bars, I'll pick the retro ones *on purpose*, not because Bananarama is hip again and every dj needs to spin it to be 'cool'. Because that, my dear dj buddy, is most decidedly not cool. I was at Le Passage a few weeks ago (don't ask, it was under duress) and there were these horrible noises coming from the speakers. Hey, Mister DJ, it's not music if people can't dance to it.

~~~~~

Karma's a bitch, but she's damn sneaky and I'm glad she's on my side: the guy who makes work difficult at times had a wee accident over the weekend. He tried to hop a fence on Saturday night, he didn't hop far enough and hovered on the edge of the fence, held there by his ass. That's right, he impaled his buttcheek on the fence and had 12 stitches.

And that's all I'll say on *that*.

~~~~~