apocalypsos | (no subject)

I have my new toys! I have my new toys! See? *shows off new cordless keyboard and mouse* And don't anybody ruin my fun by saying I could have fixed my last keyboard, because it was impossibly broken. Uh, yeah. Also, I found a Bush/Cheney sticker stuck to the bottom of it. Also, possessed by Satan. And ... erm ... I think I saw it making out with Britney Spears.

...

New toys!

In other pretty closely related news, while I was at Best Buy, I walked through the DVD section, which was a desire which could not be denied even in Best Buy. NEVER AGAIN. I bought Saving Private Ryan, Footloose, and The Color Purple, and out of the three of them, only The Color Purple wasn't horribly scratched when I opened it. Footloose was rattling around in the box when I got it, but it was so light I thought it was the insert. It turned out that not only was it scratched, but the little doohickey holding it into the case had snapped off. It plays all right, and it's not like I don't have a spare case to put it in, but this was just ridiculous. So I'm bringing them both back tomorrow to see if I can get them again, but this time fixed, damn it.

I'm also going to stop in Suncoast and pick up Monsters Inc., because ... well, I don't feel I need to explain Boo to you, Warren. :)

EDIT: Tonight on the Ron and Fez show, they were asking people which crappy living singer they would trade to get back a great dead one. I'd trade the lead singer of Nickelback for Jimi Hendrix. And Courtney Love for Kurt Cobain. And Jessica Simpson for Janis Joplin. And Jennifer Lopez for Selena. And Clay Aiken for Young!Elvis. And Michael Bolton for Louis Armstrong.

Hee. I could do this all day long.

CLINICALLY DECEASED CO-WORKER OF EDIT: It would be a hell of a lot easier for me to write when I got home from work if I didn't immediately slip into something vaguely resembling a zombified coma the second I crossed the threshold of my bedroom. *sigh*

Also, did I mention that my engineer on the Metro today was Barry White? Or, at the very least, it sure sounded a hell of a lot like him. I've never heard a Metro driver talk so much since I moved here, and none of them sounded like they wanted to lay all of us down on a shag carpet in front of a fireplace, pour us some champagne, and tell us all about the no-eating laws.