So, earlier today I was weed-eating, and suddenly a name popped into my head. Lena Horne. I don't know why I thought of Lena Horne, but there her name was, in my brain. I know nothing about Lena Horne, except that she is a singer and that I don't listen to her music. Still, there it was. Now, I have just returned home from a long day of cutting grass. My back hurts and I am tired. I'm sitting here, watching The Muppet Show, and who do you think is the guest? Lena Horne. Apparently weed-eating for nine hours channeled the spirit of Jim Henson into my brain to tell me that Lena Horne would be the guest on The Muppet Show.

See, this is just my luck. Of course I would discover that I am a psychic while weed-eating, or enduring some other such misery. Of course I would only have the power to predict the guest on the Muppet Show. This is how things happen to me. I don't have bad luck. I don't have good luck. I have freaky-weird luck.

Remind me to node My 20th birthday as an example of this.

Later this week, as my super-human powers advance, I expect to gain the following abilities:

  • The ability to levitate ants very short distances
  • Ultimate knowledge of the inner workings of the ill fated Dos GUI known as GeoWorks.
  • The power of making very precise measurements by visual inspection.
  • An incredible tolerance to paper cut pain.

Okay, I'm done.

Okay, I have no clue about the past tense of weed-eating. Weed-ate just sounds too much like actual consumption. I usually use weed-eated. I am a big fan of the term et, actually, and I use it all the time. I try to reserve it for a more violent type of devouring though, as in: "Did y'all see Jimmy get et by that tiger?"