a decidedly meh weekend, a really bad monday at work, and a tuesday that mostly rubbed salt in monday’s injuries.

   “No, it was you losing the little golden sun killed me, Shadow, killed me dead, as sure as water’s wet and days are long and a friend will always disappoint you in the end.”
   Shadow wanted to point out to Mad Sweeney that that was kind of a bitter philosophy, but he suspected it was the being dead that made you bitter.
— from American Gods, by Neil Gaiman

tonight, am subbing for damaged-ankly-immobile Pirate Dan at pub trivia. this should be interesting; i said “yes” before the day’s headache really unpacked its bags to set a spell. perhaps i will introduce myself as “sabrina, the judge with whom thou shalt not argue because i am *way* meaner than you, puny human.”

CRUSH ALL HU-MANS.