phosfate

Wandered about last night to take mind off of stuff, on the theory that if I dont' mind, stuff doesn't matter. Comic shop contained an Eltingville-esque tableau of high-school film student making a documentary about the manager...interviewed by an old Mr T Mego action figure and a Star Wars Rancor. Went to Blockbuster as part of my ongoing search for a copy of The Witches of Eastwick for Mom and found...a copy of The Witches of Eastwick for Mom. Well all righty.

Meanwhile, in Middle-Earth, Goldberry was killed after that dumbfuck darklordsauron staged a surprise attack on Bree in a dispute over the local Mordor Pizza Express franchise. Oh, good one, Sauron. Ya dick.