Media Overload.

Still unemployed, and the absence of anything important in life compells me to make mountains out of molehills. My television has become a magnificent Slot-Machine of Destruction, and I'm just waiting for MTV, VH1 and MTV2 to all come up playing the same fucking video before I put my foot through the screen. I've already come close three times, today. Since the music television mogul runs only eight different videos on any given day, I should score a jackpot any moment, now...

Regarding Leila and Rain's theory that I am the Real Rick Blane, I have to comment that Casablanca must have been written by a woman. While Nazis marched on the City of Lights, Ingrid's top priority was to bang the ugliest American in sight while her husband was hiding behind enemy lines. There's no way a man could have been smart enough to run a nightclub in occupied North Africa but still stupid enough to love Ingrid Bergman after all her dirty dealing came to light. Who in his right mind would sacrifice his livelyhood to help that cheating bitch escape the Germans?

Hopefully, tomorrow's phone call garners a couple shifts.