Allow me to whine for a moment...
For the last couple of weeks, I've been dealing with what seems to be a rather large collection of gnomes who've moved into my head and have taken up chiselling upon the dense mass of my inner skull as though it was a granite quarry. They seem to be getting closer to daylight, however, as I can feel their progress upon the backs of my eyeballs.
So, needless to say, I'm kind of grumpy, and staring at the bright blue entry form for this journal is shredding my patience. Also, my mood is so grim that I am watching a rerun of Judging Amy, while deconstructing the dialogue, and I find myself thinking that it would be pretty damn entertaining if someone dumped a a bucket of water over Tyne Daly's head --better yet! Put her in a dunk tank full of vodka.
Don't get me wrong, I like Tyne Daly. I think the old bird's got moxy, and she seems to be a genuinely nice lady. It's just, right now, the smarmy, staccato of her character's condescending and pretentious banter is enough to make me contemplate sticking a plastic fork in my aching head.
I know. I should change the channel, but all that's on are my ridiculous local news anchors who chatter like senseless little squirrels, cheesy home makeover shows and Paula Dean's cooking show, and any one of those is more than enough to send me into an insanity from which I know I'd never be able to return.
Okay... My whining is over.