n'est pas

Am I think only one who thinks that if you name your store the "West Wing Boutique" that you should be selling, like, lamps with martin sheen's face on it? Probably so, since I'm the only one working on this particular naming assignment and the fact that there is a west wing boutique at mgm grand with nary a bradley whitford ashtray in sight is tangental to the project, at best.

What I would like right now is a bike that I could pedal away from here to places unknown, or maybe just to the thrift store to look at awful jewelry. It's 112 degrees right now and I'm filled with curry, so I would probably fall over after a few blocks. And also, there's a giant interstate between here and anywhere I'd want to be. I haven't been doing too much lately that's worth writing about. Or maybe it's because I write all day and don't feel like doing it on the side. Either way it can't be good for my health.

It turns out that when you actually pay your credit card bills, the creditors don't care to talk to you so much. Exciting conclusions!