Signals Lost Forever.

Homie at the coffee shop was diggin' my Passarella Death Squad "I Heart LA" tee shirt. I said thanks, but I really don't think he knows what it is or how incredibly soft the shirt is, and I know I've mentioned it before, but it just seems like every time I put the thing on I have to bring it up.

Meeting a recruiter later in the day and I'm happy to say this one sounds nowhere near as breathless as the last one I spoke with. Not too jazzed about heading downtown for a meet & greet so I may have to hit a movie. Even less enthused about ironing a shirt.

The freaks at CBC are moving my soap Corrie to a 6:30 time slot which I don't mind saying seems a little perverse. Soaps are suppose to happen in the middle of the day not some nebulous region between daytime drama and prime-time. Needless to say there's now no reason to rush back from my downtown excursion even though I scheduled it around Corrie, no point in getting all my chores finished before 3:00. Maybe I'm being dramatic, but it seems like a large motivational force has been removed from my daily routine. 6:30?
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Almost forgot to mention. If House of Love is not part of your itunes, music library, etc., then this would be a good time to fix that. Actually any time would be appropriate.