I was having a really bizarre dream when my alarm clock rang to usher me into my work reality mode. It seems Elvis Presley (the younger version) was a barber in Kansas City circa 1950s and he wasn't a good one. Several old men ambling through the dreamscape informed me Elvis sucked at cutting hair. I think I need to stop drinking after work to avoid another Elvis dream.

The workload was meager enough that I could glomm through the fantasy football magazines and get an idea who I want in my upcoming live draft. I ordered a 412 piece truck. {"pieces" are grocery night crew parlance for cases of what have you -- Enfamil, Clamato, and Pinto Beans are sure bets here} By most standards, that'll make for an easy Monday night when the semi arrives brimmed with our goodies.

Doing my little gig in a big store alone for hours is in many ways odd. I always turn down the country muzak to avoid additional insanity. Occasionally my crew of two and I will stock to the beats of Dre or Godsmack at decibel levels certainly not conducive to aural health. I always ixnay Korn though as it makes me wonder how something so unmitigatingly hideous can be popular. KIDS!

I left early after talking to the produce guy, Wayne, for a bit. He's always full of hilarity, rants, rumour, innuendo, and vinegar so I assure you Wayne is okay.

I stuck a quarter into the air machine at the convenience store on the way home as my front left tire can last about two days on a hit of air. I don't think I'll bother getting it fixed because I just don't care. As long as the thrice-weekly airings works, it's all good.

Of course I got online as soon as I got home to tend to my fantasy baseball team, the East St. Louis Crack-prone Sex Force. And I came here; to see one of my offspring had gained an XP overnight. 'Twas no e-mail again from my fiancee Marina, a truly enchanting and dear, gentle soul from the wilds of far Eastern Russia. Probably Kamchatka is under another state-mandated power outtage. Or maybe she is just sleeping with her ex and too tired to write. *bites lip* Nahhhh....

Uh-oh, I am drinking beer again. I wonder what Elvis will do tonight.