Son of a BITCH. Blogger ate all my damned entries...and NOW THE DAMN THING IS DOWN. So I'm having to hack my own damn page by hand! What the hell is that all about? Who the hell does anything by hand? Honestly this is the damned stone ages or something! BAH. Well, I had these great posts about these nearly-lethally good cookies and how I'm finally shipping out the craploads of stuff I promised to people months ago, but this meandering bitch fest will have to suffice until Blogger comes back up and plays nicely with others.
Blogger ate a bunch of entries. A recap: Made cookies that control men's minds. Going to Chicago from the 19th until the 24th.
At least, that's the plan. I expressed it to Vorpal, I might as well express it here, that I have this odd feeling that I'm not coming back from Chicago. I don't know why I have this odd feeling of finality to the situation. A couple months ago everything around me felt very transitional, things changed, events transpired. It just seemed that the world was shaped in such a fashion that more changes had to take place. A similar feeling, that of a finality, is pervading my thoughts. It's not melancholy. I don't think I'm going to die, I don't think something awful is going to happen. Derek suggests that going to Chicago, facing up to my past, seeing all these old friends changed by the years I've been away is going to alter me. He thinks that the person I am now will certainly not be coming back. Maybe he's right. Whether this is anticipation or foreboding, I think I will enjoy my trip. I don't think I've left too much unfinished bussiness around here, and I'm sure Derek or Jeff can handle anything I've neglected, with the nearest available trashcan.
Found a re-release of "Videodrome". I have never seen this movie, I wonder what kind of pre-flight viewing it will make.
On a side note, I have just watched "Where the Buffalo Roam" which is a fairly entertaining if not at all plausible movie based on some of the events of Hunter S Thompson's life. In a relatively implausible scene, a theory of mine is proved, that theory that women should lounge around more with mostly unbuttoned shirts. I had an opportunity to study this sort of fashion decision recently, and my theory is one for which I'm willing to fight.
Vorpal and I have returned from 7-11 with the biggest goddamn licorice I have seen in years. I'm not the biggest fan of licorice, but having 4 foot long strands of food hanging out of your mouth without people screaming is not something you often get to do.