My wife is asleep on my lap as I watch WWE Friday Night Snackdown. It's sweet but my right foot is asleep like Gary Coleman. Hurts.
There are no kids in the house right now, just us and the pets. That's nice. It allows my wife to try and rest and it allows me to swim in the dark pool of my painful thoughts.
I'm going to be a witness in the trial of the man who robbed my store and had me at gunpoint. Not only am I going to have to revile that horror again but I will have to do it face to face with the asshole who could have ended my life.
I'm still getting the repeated sensation that someone is choking me to death. An invisible midget has his arms wrapped around my neck. The ghost of Gary Coleman is choking the shit out of me.
In other news, I have no idea what film I'm going to show for my Church-less Movie of the Week this sunday.
It's either going to be a bloody disgusting grindhouse film...
... or Newsies.
Hit me up with what you think.
Kofi Kingston is pretty cool. But I miss Edge.