A.D. Skinner has been Colonel Caldwell the whole time?!

Stargate Atlantis doesn’t have enough Daniel Jackson in it.

It’s 7:41 and I’m already sick of Chinese food.

You’d think at least a bagel store or delicatessen would be open. More places were open during the height of Hurricane Sandy.

Can someone mail me a pizza?

I’m smelling a business venture somewhere burried deep below the pine needles and Christmas spirit.

It’s my birthday and I’ll spend the day in bed, eating macaroni and cheese with bacon, watching NOVA and South Park, and going to bed at 10:30 if I want to.

There’s a party this weekend called The Rub. Steak is going to be a big proponent of it, right?

Fears about the subway that have always, and will always, worry me:

-Getting pushed off the platform by someone for no particular reason.

-Falling off the platform due to nobody’s fault but my own incomprehension to my center of gravity.

-Overheating and not having enough room to take off my jacket.

-Getting sick or fainting and patrons assuming I’m drunk.

-Causing a subway delay and angering everyone in the subway car.

-Someone else getting sick or fainting in the subway car making me late. I’ll be particularly upset if I assume they’re drunk.

-Getting stuck on the subway and being late for an appointment and when I try to explain what happened to whomever was waiting, they think I made it up.

-Getting stuck in the smelly car and then having to hurt someone’s feeling when switching cars at the next stop.

-Leaving my dog in his bag under the seat. Mostly this one.

Theories on spacetime, exercise, and survival.

If an individual is active, their internal clock should slow down since they’re moving through space. Is this why exercise leads you to live longer? Is this why when you’re lazing around, time crawling?

(Too. Much. NOVA.)

Spacetime Graph

Do people feel that with age comes the privilege of omitting social protocols? 

Your name is not Rich. You did not get a Vanilla Latte. Put down the drink, Lady.

In 40 years, I’ll be the lady in the hot-pink velour jumpsuit telling kids walking down the street to get out of my yard. Because I can.