The forks and spoons in the road have thrown plastic buckets under my tires, and the brakes are threatening to fail.

It's a cloudy day in the corners of my sunshine mind.

Greasy burritos never hurt this bad before. Something's sprung a leak.

Morgan Stewart's coming home from the late 80s with paychecks for every third lead and bit player of John Hughes University.

Hurrrradurrraaah...

Everything cascades downhill, even among the cardboard skyscraper containment boxes.

How is the mail service between the US and Australia?

Can't stand still, can't get moving.

The moths dive bomb my bedroom window, then flutter just long enough to make me turn the light on. It's a trick, get an axe!

They skipped the menopause line again!

Too much rice.

Sometimes I give the impression of a vegetarian at checkout.

What band? THE Band...oh, not that again!

Almost broke heat records, and everyone broke down. Just in time for Pow Wow.

The 1% love that people occasionally win the lottery. This gives them the excuse not to give the 99% raises.

How cool is too cool? How doltish is just dumbass?

Record reviewers still haven't gotten over the breakup of the White Stripes. It's called graduation, bitches!

Sometimes it's all self-inflicted.

Matt Worley is a bit fragmented this week.