Look at me: Generic and proud of it.

Thanks to Michael and his nifty new barcoding software.

Today has been a slow day, full of reflection. And I can't help wondering (dotdotdot)

Like why wasn't I born in Canada?

Why do some of the most socially disgusting trailor-mouthed tricky hoes have some of the longest, most luxurious hair on Jerry Springer? Is it true? Do they use Suave and not the more expensive salon variations?

How can Best Buy be allowed to sell me a car stereo for Christmas but not able to find a time to install it? Should I initiate my own campaign against Best Buy to change their name in the public's eye to "Best Buy-Worst Installation"? How much legal trouble would I get into if I heisted a cement truck and drove it through the front of the store, all the way to the back of the store where installation is, and then said "Oh, well I'll be damned. I didn't think anyone was even in here since no one ever answers the phones. Can I make an appointment now to get this stereo installed in my van? Or can I just blow all my fuses on you here and now without an appointment?" I had a small chili today from Wendy's. Could I blame the whole incident on Mad Cow Disease?

Who just screamed outside under my window? Was that a scream or joy, pain or both?

If Mad Cow Disease would've been discovered and named in America, would it have been "Crazy Cow" instead? How about "Springer Cow"? It's just about the same except 449 non-contaminated cows had to die, without the benefit of long, luxurious hair. (On Springer, at least two cows are always left standing. House rules, I think.)

Speaking of that, what is my hair doing? Why is it doing that. That, right there. That reminds me, I have to go get my hair cut now. I will let you know how it goes.