Brain is running dual cycles of thought. One: I want to somehow arrange for a baby boy to be named Brick. Cause how much of a shit kicking bad ass would Brick be? Must seek confused and susceptible to deviant control pregnant ladies. Make them sign the birth certificate while they are silly on happy labor drugs.

Two: Kind of recent retro. Thinking that we should be thankful for what we didn't discover of Clinton's sex life. Someone walks in on him fucking a pumpkin or a honeydew in the oval office. Can see the Daily News headline - President Mellon Baller. Sales of melon balling kitchen gadgets skyrocket.

And now I am gonna go stare at coworkers in the face as they try and describe issues to me. Just stare uninterested until they walk away. I think he might smoke those funny cigarettes. I shouldn't have scratched in the word "Burnout" on my desk nameplate.