I really should just set up a random entry generator and be done with it

My ever-growing list of Things I'm Dying to Cover in Chocolate (not counting, say, Breaking the Waves-era Emily Watson) used to consist of two (2) items: wasabi peas and Nerds. Today, I add pine nuts to that exalted list. (I popped three or four pignoli in my mouth along with a Hershey's Kiss, and, well, yes.)

Conversation with the manager today revolved, in part, around the new state of affairs vis á vis days-off requests and surplus time in the coming year. Her message: don't make plans. To do anything. Ever again. You won't be able to get the time off you need. Ever ever ever. Um, new job, please?

I enjoy Stephen Lynch more than I really should. Clearly going to Hell. Which I kind of knew anyway, but at least now I can make lodging reservations and all that.

YOU make the call!

I was going to present the award for Best Thing Screamed at Me by a Bat-Kazoo Caller du Jour, but I'm so very torn on the matter. So! Audience participation it is!

[Poll #1486529]


* = Evidently, she has an issue with publishization.
** = He hung up immediately after shouting this, the only words he had for me. I am officially making this my new catchphrase, to be screamed at all times when I'm not screaming "SHUT UP WOMAN, GET ON MY HORSE." ***
*** = That's a Weebls-Stuff clip. Not safe for work. Or sanity. Or the furtherance of the human race, really. In fact, don't click on it. Seriously, it's for the best. Sorry for mentioning it. ****
**** = Dear gods, do I need sleep....


EDIT: Dag nabbit, I meant 1968. Sigh.