Right now, as I sit at my desk listening to "Speak Softly Low" play on my Ipod I giggle to myself (wow that sounds almost like a Walt Whitman poem) because I'm transported to the time I stopped speaking to Kim for an entire day after she insulted Andy Williams. We were both in disbelief, her at my "oversensitivity" , and I for her sheer insolence. In the end, she relented and apologized for the comment. Mastandreas can be quite stubborn on the strangest issues, huh? I'm not even sure why I even cared, partially what makes it even funnier now. I am confident that somehow Dr. Sfingi can visualize this entire argument (including dialogue, facial expressions and hand gestures) without me divulging anymore details. You have a gift...I expect you to use it.

Anyway, theres lots to talk about to today: like how Cookie and Mojo could have identified a light-up Mooninite and the Boston Bomb Squad could not. Quite disturbing. I'm hoping that the Boston Police Detectives are somehow directed to the Macaroni Dish searching for Frylock...you know the same way Rob Lopicola fans are directed here searching for pictures of his derrier.

Lets see what else is going on? This week I contracted some off-spring species of the rotovirus, and although it assisted me in my weight loss goals...I'm pretty sure I threw up my pancreas and spleen. This week I also had the displeasure of having my business bank card stolen and run up by some Eastern European Gypsies...made purchases from California to Iceland and even western unioned my dough home to Romania. Bastards. Funny part is, I'm not even that upset...in fact I've spent the last two days in a strangely good mood. I guess Matthew Wilder said it best...aint nothin gonna break my stride. (And yes BazzukaJoe that song does make me think of Robert Teetsel.)