It was a tough week.  I don’t function well on only a few hours of sleep.  If I continue to lose sleep exponentially over a couple days, it gets ugly. On Tuesday, I started talking to myself.  On Wednesday, I heard a Black Eyed Peas song and thought it sounded good.  Sometime around Thursday, I actually had to sit down and write a communication for my CEO.  I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the executive-level output that was requested, but rather the lyrics to the old Banana Splits Adventure Hour.

You know you’re in a bad place when all there is for breakfast is pastries and doughnuts and bagels.  Whose idea was it to only have that crap in a hotel?  And why call it a “continental” breakfast?  A continent is a large, substantial thing.  There’s nothing substantial about a bunch of pastries.  They should call it “Island in the South Pacific that Got Firebombed During WWII” breakfast.  I remember a hotel in Austria once that had grain cereal, cheese, and meat.  Now that’s a breakfast.  I might move to that country if I didn’t live in fear of running into one of the Von Trapps.

One thing that struck me was that on each plane flight, you could walk down the aisle and see scattered green blocks everywhere as literally 30% of the passengers had their nose buried in the new Harry Potter book.  I have to say, I found the whole thing appalling--and at the same time, I was unable to suppress a feeling of smug superiority.  I mean, think of all those people, like a bunch of moronic zombies, reading the new Harry Potter book--two weeks after the official release date.  I had that book wrapped up in the first weekend.  I felt like shouting “THE SECRET IDENTITY OF THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE IS ANTONIN SCALIA.” It would serve them right.  Pack of lazy ‘tards.

On a less grumpy note, I saw one of those super-tight T-shirts worn by young teenage girls who are trying to look mature and sexy.  But this one was really good. It read: “I MAKE MY OWN MONEY.”