Stuff You Think About When You Don't Sleep Enough

Whenever you play an especially memorable movie character, you are forevermore chained to that character's identity. Lawrence Fishburne will always be Morpheus. Hugo Weaving will always be Agent Smith. In the immortal words of my friend the Hornett:

"Welcome to Rivendell...	... Mr. Anderson."

I was therefore very disappointed when I saw 21 this past weekend and witnessed Lawrence Fishburne beat the hell out of Jim Sturgess without making him choose between the red pill and the blue pill.

When milk is in short supply, or you find yourself in such an environment where milk will quickly spoil (i.e. there is no refrigerator), you can still make decent espresso drinks with Swiss Miss... but you'll still need an espresso machine.

I have no idea how to throw a football. For most American-born-and-raised males of the species, this skill is second nature. Unfortunately for me, I can't help myself from trying to throw it like a baseball, usually with disastrous results for the would-be receiver.

Sometimes you just want to pole-vault over a sleeping elephant.

The sounds and gestures that baseball umpires make to indicate a strikeout used to be so much funnier. Will there ever be a revival? One can only hope. Until then, I guess this will have to do.