I'm too sleepy to write...

So instead of reading any drivel that might leak out of my weary mind, please enjoy this cool story about a 110 year-old ex-Negro Leauges ballplayer. Can any of you people imagine being 110 years old? If I make it that long, I’m going to be the terror of the nursing home. No one can tell you what to do when you’re 110 years old. You should get all the pudding you want and every good-looking young thing who comes by should be required to fuss over you for at least fifteen minutes. Because you’re 110 years old, dammit, and there should be perks that come with that.

And, this is off the subject, but do any of you out there get unreasonably angry whenever people choose to walk abreast and don’t let anyone get around them? Because, for some reason, that pisses me off to no end. I got stuck behind these two ladies today, and for the whole time I was forced to walk sooooooo goddamn sloooooow behind them they were having this animated discussion about how somebody caught “ammonia” and how the company they worked for only gave them a week off, even though they had “ammonia” and when you have “ammonia” you need to take it easy because “ammonia” isn’t like the common cold, it’s a lot worse and it can mess up your lungs. This drove me to bizarre, wholly unjustified heights of rage and I started my day in a funk. Is this wrong of me? I just got off the phone with Mel and she seemed to imply that I was being a bit of a fuckchop for getting so angry with such little cause. I don’t know, though. Maybe if she had been there, she would think differently.