May the Schwartz be with you

Note to self: There's always time for lubrication.
She Wore An: Itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow-polka dot bikini.
Music: House of Pain - Jump Around
Mood: Yes. I.  Did.

Could not sleep last night.  Ordinarily, that would be annoying, even troubling.  Not last night.  I grabbed a book, made a martini and sipped and read until about four.  Woke up slightly tired four hours later, but feeling like a champion.  Oh.  Not some syrupy chick-tini.  Vodka Martini.  Although, the "Bond, James Bond"-ness of the experience was marred somewhat by our lack of olives.  I substituted a pickle instead, way more phallic.

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We here at Aperture Science wish you a lovely die.  Day.  Did I say die?  How completely non-Freudian of me.

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Surface tension affects mayonnaise emulsion.

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That door is still there.  What has been seen cannot be unseen.

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There are a bunch of chairs moving in the room next to mine.  It sounds oddly like a lightsaber battle and now I am thoroughly distracted.  Vmmmm.  Vmmmm.  Voo, twang, kirsch, kirsch, vum, kwash, I am your father, Nooooo that's impossible!  Messy bitch you are.  Choo-choo, choo-choo, WAAAAAAOWW.

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I think my fluids prof is losing heart as lecture attendance drops off.  It's just the middle of the term, man, not your fault!  I want to give him a hug.

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Suddenly, I want a fish taco.  All innuendo aside, that would be awesome.