I was losing myself within the world wide web for long while today, between casual glances at the Wall Street Journal (it was sitting on my desk) and answering phone calls and organizing the people in our office, and figuring out a presenation for a lunch that we are sponsoring but didn't know anything about because our boss left the company and forgot to tell us, and reading emails, and putting out fires, and drinking a Diet A&W Root Beer and it suddenly dawned on my why I never get around to blogging: I'm too busy thinking everyone else's thoughts for them. (Gack...I just ate a rotten nut. It tastes exactly how a dirty diaper smells, and it's stuck in my teeth. Excuse me for a moment.)

OK, so I decided to attempt to have a thought to myself and I was smited from above, well, sort of...through a plastic bag.

Of course, I'm sure it the Red Bull talking now. After my forehead hit my desk, I decided to chug one down. Since then, I've straigtened up our breakroom, finished the WSJ and learned that a rubberband ball really does bounce, although not quite as high as the rubber ball my daughter left in my purse. By the way, no, I did not make the rubberband ball. It came that way. Although I think I'm going to tell people that I did make it, since they keep asking me while looking at me slightly sideways and with an eyebrow cocked. Ah, I am the poster child for what a college education will do for you. Tens of thousands of dollars spent so that I can play with a rubberbands. I make my parents proud.