Kid Tetris

I finally went to Coinstar, which if this were a book might be some grand turning point in my life because I finally got rid of those cups of change (but this is real life, so it's just a fiscal decision). In total, $90, which is like 2 student loan payments for me. When I was stuffing the cash into my wallet, I came upon a very odd looking receipt (no store, no time, just a date) from 04-16-03 for $2.60, which I paid for with $5.60 and got $3 change. It took me some time to remember that the receipt was from my library fines. I also had a burrito that day.

The preferred spelling is "champagne" not "champaign" (it's so cute and Midwestern of you to spell it that way). It's Jimmy "Buffett" not "Buffet" (the latter is like Super China Buffet or the English word for smorgasbord).

Disconcerting away messages are those that are merely an emoticon. Odd statement about either the level of technology, our understanding of one another or our emotions if our state of mind can be accurately and completely expressed in a face measuring 16 by 16 pixels. An impoverished existence, I think.

In the past 24 hours, the number of times Mater has told me she's going grocery shopping at 6:30 am on Sunday: three.

I have an interview at 10:00 am. I'm worried that I'll sleep through it. Says something about the lifestyle I've fallen into. Unrelated, I have a great idea for a restaurant that's going to stay locked in my head until the right time.

Here's an idea: less of that symbolism claptrap in our lives. Leave symbolism in literature.

A thought: Chris Berman and the pornographic areas of sports. A Barry Bonds home run, a Curt Schilling/Randy Johnson/Pedro Martinez K, a tall man jamming a basketball through the hoop. It's the "money shot" of sports. It's also gross. When Berman is standing in for Karl Ravech on Baseball Tonight, we'll watch in horror as he collapses under the weight of his idolation, joy and purely sexual lust for well-paid players hitting home runs. When he's calling a baseball game, it's like listening to a crack-addled ADHD-afflicted child try to do the color commentary for his neighbors lighting off fireworks. Moist laughter spaced evenly with depressed moans asking for more of the "boom sticks." I don't really like Chris Berman.

On the design shows where the premise is a couple who can't decide on whether to go with a gaudy Louis XIV style (woman) or a gaudy sports bar style (man) - I think it would funny if just once the designer said, "I can't help you. Your differences are too great. I have set you up with a great divorce attorney and gotten the paperwork started. I'll foot the bill for their services and wish you both the best of luck. Sorry I couldn't help with the living room, but you'll happier this way."