Where my thoughts escaping

In a dark and dusty room somewhere, an oil painting of Greg Evigan is slowly growing older.
The van will be here in under two hours to take me to the airport. Another night with no sleepies for me.
John Noble continued to be charming and engaging this morning while speaking to the gathered crowd.
For thirty bucks, my DVD really should have come with a plastic case.
I have now seen SGAtlantis, which was at least interesting to watch. And Rodney is heart warming.
I have now seen Battlestar Galactica: The Next Generation, which was interesting and nicely done. It reminded me a lot of Babylon 5. There was shaky camera stuff that reminded me of Firefly too. I am not yet in love with Boomer or Starbuck, but Insane Genius Doctor Gaius is growing on me.

Bed of Coals Bed of Nails

Or great big comfy bed with lots of pillows and hanging satin and four wrought iron posters and a big fluffy down comforter.
Home now. Laundry being done. Cats being abused.
There is a big pit at the end of one of the runways at the Atlanta airport. It looks like the Airplane Graveyard.
I am not very impressed with the Hilton management so far. Repeated phone calls to housekeeping have brought several different information sets about when I might contact anybody who might be able to say anything about a birthday present we left in our room accidentally after checking out.
Confirmed this weekend: snug fatigue trousers with combat boots==teh sexay
That hottie I mentioned meeting at the SF Fetish Ball sent me email. I was pleasantly surprised.
Back to work tomorrow, hopefully I will not fall asleep again until I get home.