I'm munching a chocolate chip granola bar and thinking about Battle Star Galactica. Well, I'm actually chewing on about three quarters of the granola bar. I was curious as to whether or not I could fit it in my mouth.
Because I have a small mouth.
I'm selling a lot of my stuff. Or trying to. Let's just say I'm making a vague effort. Anyway, one thing I definitely want to sell is my autographed copy of I feel Sick #1. It's signed by Jhonen vasquez and Rikki Simmons. I don't want to go through the fucking hassle of Ebay, but I'm not sure how else to get rid of the fucking thing. I was never into Vasquez in a big way, so this comic isn't gracing my wall like the works of Mr.Sam Keith.
If you've stumbled across this blog and you just have to have a signed copy of IFS, drop me a line. And get your check book ready.
Other than that, nothing to report.
I think I want a hedgehog. I'm not really 100% on that yet, so I'll have to get back to you.
Back to Battlestar, I really enjoyed the way that four of the final five cylons were revealed. I'm also looking forward to watching Razor in a few hours.
SciFi.com has a cylon toaster that I want. I also want the 1:1 Cylon prop they have. Dorian says it would be too scary. Fear is a common side effect of being exposed to raw, untreated awesome. It's a fact of life.
We're supposed to be hit with a major thunderstorm today/yesterday. So far the clouds have only managed to piss out a few drops of rain like an old woman with a UTI camped out on her porcelain throne.
That didn't make sense.
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