Pain/sleep/acetocylic-acid monologue time!

Shoulder hurts. Blah blah blah PAIN blah SUFFERING blarg blah blah TYLENOL PM.

My birthday is coming up. I don't know if that has any implications on anything whatsoever.

Pain.

I want to learn how to lockpick. Lockpick lockpick. I'm not sure, but it's for one of four reasons:
1. It's a useful skill to have.
2. I think that I am James Bond.
3. I am sleepy and pain.
4. I think it will make me cool and give me immense sexual appeal.
When I think about it, it's probably a mix of all of them. Crazy.

And the pain/sleep/acetocylic-acid monologue comes to an end. I will now fall asleep on my couch because of my friend Tylenol Goddamned PM™. Stupid pain.

Yadda yadda yadda country music. That's what it's all about: Country. Country music. I have taken a likin' to it, and I'm not sure how. Perhaps it's a good thing that I have the ability to ignore the fact that I'm from 'way up nawth' and just take a fancy to music from below the country equator. Then again, maybe I'm a goddamn idiot.

Blah blah blah blah maybe blarg I'll start blah on a new project (i.e. old one I never finished) (blah). Why not?

So I think that the approximate mental dialogue leading up to this was "Yadda yadda new direction blah new blah paradigm. Blah answers blarg." In a more coherent reflection on the existence of reality: Gonna get me a CD Burner, gonna burn things. Gonna burn gonna burn gonna burn burn burn. Anyway, "FIRST POST". Let's wait for the second post for anything interesting to be said. Burn. That's a command.