Who's fooling whom?

A big software rollout is slated for tomorrow, which pretty much rules out making the two-hour run to the old stomping-grounds for the annual screening of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." And that's assuming that I could scrounge up garters for the fishnet stockings to go with the French Maid outfit that's stored in a box somewhere in the garage-and-a-half.

So I settle for playing the RHPS soundtrack--with the obligatory (and disturbingly reflexive) mouthing of lines--while I pen a freebie article destined for the yet-to-be website of the as-yet-unincorporated entrepreneurship that will lure me away from the day-job when the latter gets around to brassing me off enough to leave. One of these days.

If I didn't know better, I'd almost think that I've accidentally staggered into adulthood.

Nah... If this were actual adulthood, my children would only have two legs (and no feathers).

Never mind. False alarm. Party on. ("Lettttts dooooo the Tiiiiiiime Waarrrrp againnnnn!!!")