"Choosing a 78-year-old Pope is like buying a 1977 Alfa Romeo Spider . . . it'll just break down and shit oil over the driveway."

I went to the pub last night because a) it was press day at work and I needed some mindless entertainment when I got home at 7:30 pm and b) it was movie night. The double feature was (drum roll please) Top Gun followed by Roadhouse. I weighed my desire to watch brainless television versus watching a couple of god awful movies. In the end, the crap movies won out. A few glasses of wine later (five) and I was able to enjoy the pure cheese of Tom Cruise wooing Kelly McGillis and Patrick Swayze's mullet.

The down side to this plan was that the wine caused me to wake up at 4:30 am. I tossed and turned till 6 am before finally surrendering to the shower. Too knackered to make breakfast at home, I struck upon a genius plan to have oatmeal with brown sugar and banana courtesy of the deli by my work. Strike two -- the oatmeal was horrible and I think I paid $3 for a gloopy, watery mess. It was like runny porridge -- breakfast of the disenfranchised masses. Even the banana couldn't help it.