Funky Fuzzy Funzy

Maybe I'm not awake. My head is stuffy, but not. Imaginary stuffy. Waiting at a stop light, all sorts of mind movies rolling through my head ... I suddenly forgot which direction to turn, where I was going, what I was doing, why why why. The record skipped a groove then fell, dropped neatly back and resumed the tune, "regularly scheduled daytime paranoia." I completed the turn successfully and headed home to eat taquitos and to watch the cat stretch all kinds of funky.

I watched BF put my computer together last night. I helped with the processor, but not much more. I ordered everything except the motherboard from newegg. I'd meant to order it but forgot. We had to drive out to PC Club before they closed and I had to practice saying "MSI K7N2 please."

At McDonald's BF overheard a woman ask for her burger medium-rare. She was serious. She also asked for a lettuce wrapped protein burger. If I'd been the clerk I might have slapped her. Or at least laughed at her. My vast customer service skills have taught me one thing: angry uppity customers hate being laughed at. Especially stupid bitchy diva women.

Maybe tonight I'll install XP on my computer. I think a draft of my play is due this weekend, which is bad. Having been without a computer for a couple weeks, I've written nothing. Nothing at all. The question then becomes, do I spend all weekend locked in fierce embrace with my inner devils? Or do I make like a tree and leave?