Good Morning

Oh, there is nothing better than Friday, except a Friday that is payday. At work, we all always go out for lunch somewhere exciting on Fridays. Today, because I've been talking so much about the Cook Out milkshakes, we're going to get those, and we're stopping by Hawthorne's Pizza to get a big pizza, too. And then we get paid!

(And then I can pay bills and be broke again. At least I'll be able to pay the bills, though.)

I'm going for my third day of milkshakes in a row, though. I started with a Snickers on Wednesday, a Heath Bar yesterday, and I think today, I'm going to go for the Blueberry Cobbler. I'm going to get fat. I'm going to get so fat that I start internally combusting hydrogen. I'm going to eat and eat until I blow up so big I become a star at the center of my own galaxy. At last, things will be very quiet. I can fart peacefully, burn up on the inside, feel hot and cold at the same time.

For years, I've had these aspirations to become a star. Not the kind of star like Britney Spears. The kind of star like one day blows up and becomes a black hole.

I've always admired that kind of focused quiet that feel intergalactic, probably because I've never been able to accomplish quiet in my own life. I like to watch my cats play. I like to think about how quiet it would be if I were a cat. It would be just like being a star, so quiet.

But being a star would be better because you could be very quiet and be so big that it takes science to understand you, and even then, everyone would appreciate that they are only understanding you partially.

I can't wait until it's milkshake time.