Correction: All This To Work At The Apple Store. Maybe.
33 days and trying not to count.
- After December 11 I will never set foot in a Lowe's again unless bound, gagged and carted in on one of those one-functional-wheel, exhausted excuses for lumber carts they leave lying around in the commercial section. For those who need it spelled out the only sizable source for sculpture materials in a million mile radius is the Lowe's in Cookeville. It has been my second home for over five years, and I'm pretty sure I'm solely responsible for their third quarter earnings this year. After said date, the three-note tone, pause, Special Assistance Needed in the Chain Cutting Area, three-note tone, pause, Chain Cutting Area sequence will be to me what the Fruity Bars ad was to River Tam. It's Alliance, and it's high military. Bullet in the brainpan, squish.
- I'm anxiously awaiting word as to whether I will start getting paid to sell Apple products or if it will remain a mere hobby. A sick, sick hobby.
- I'm also anxiously awaiting 500 5mm waterclear LEDs from China. Apparently they're on the slow boat. And 500 2032 Lithium-ion batteries from California. Without them, I am nothing but a crazy old lady who has too many wine bottles. And some really expensive (but fantastic, thanks to Matt) postcards. And some bags of sand and concrete.
- I netflixed Irreversible because my foolish pride wouldn't allow me to believe reports of "the most hard-to-stomach rape scene in the history of film and quite possibly the world." I stand corrected. I will never walk alone anywhere ever again. Ever. I will also never look at another fire extinguisher without shuddering. In closing, Monica Bellucci is dedicated as hell to her craft. I give this movie 5 stars, I do not recommend it.