Restless journaling saliva drools from my mouth. Handicapped aveoli preventing creativity sparking outside. Time to exorcise the random thought notebook.

The White House techno-battleship. Figure the building that houses the commander in chief ought to be designed to transform into a giant defense hovercraft equipped with all the finest deadly military capabilities our collosal deficit can provide. Swoop in and land that morphing national monument puppy on the heavy threats to democracy. Could connect to the Capitol Building, Vietnam Wall, Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the Smithsonian to form a towering robot supreme. With the Washington Memorial obelisk as it's energy sword, and the headstones of Arlington Cemetery for automatic cannon ammunition.

Male Hollywood stars rarely appear scantily clad in cheesecake magazines. This in no way upsets me. I can imagine healthy organ pulsing chicas begrudging Tara Reid's nipple blazing covershots, while the celluloid boys that pleasure them in their bedroom fantasies remain bereft from newsstand racks.

Hammer to his skull everytime Madden says "things". Hopefully Madden will not be commentating on the Super Bowl. That way I don't have to painfully listen to him say "things" every other word. "You see when you practice these things, then you get good things for you on the field, and then you get championship things, and other things, and coaches like to see those things."

Slim trim boogie, slick trick wizard. Green Lantern's might emblazoned that jazzy house refrain on me. I kept repeating it out loud in silly voices until I was choking with fits of laughter.

Bush administration giving retired US soldiers millions of dollars for suffering as POWs in the first Iraqi war. However, they insisted that they turn around and donate it all to the current Iraqi rebuild. That is some strikingly blatant hot tot bullshit. We care so much for you vets, now hand over the cash so Halliburton can profit.

Owl calculators. Clunky brown and orange plastic jobbies, with an owl face sporting a monocle on top. Wide special ed buttons. I'm sure Ma tossed mine out some time ago. Sure would be cool to find me one. Antiques now.

Screeching "thar ain't no cure for what ails me!". Just thought it would be an excellent set of last words in which to go out in a hail of bullets. This would be after I held up a bank with a scary dildo machine and demanding they put the cash in a raw turkey. "Put the money in the turkey! Now!" Yes, of course I would still demand a jar full of ears as my first hostage negotiation request. Sheesh, don't front.

Where does ass leather go? I've never seen a pressed sphincter on one of my wallets. Do third world countries have alligator anus skin shoes? Would definitely be uniquely alternative to have an ass leather jacket.

A Seattle fan was showing off for the camera in the stands. The damaged little boy look shining through his fuzzy face was priceless when a fellow home team reveler knocked his foam Seahawks, "we're number one", finger off his hand down into the unreachable sidelines below. I mocked him for hours. Serious shame I wasn't sitting next to him instead of on my couch, watching the Pack reign victorious.

The jedi net video of the fat nerd kid pretending to light saber battle, that was passed around for the amusement of the crowd, will grow up to become a freak like me. Guaranteed.