Why is that?

Why is it that when I'm in the car, I can think of so many witty and clever things to say but by the time I get home all I can come up with is a bad Andy Rooney impression?

I've decided I will speak for the rest of the day like the guy with the indeterminately foreign accent on the chiropratic commercial that was just on TV. It's too bad you can't hear me. I'm very very funny sounding. And I'm talking to myself, which is really frightening. Don't tell Nissa; she might commit me to the "after five/before five" ward.

I watched the Simpsons-- the fabulous Streecar Named Desire episode. Is it sad, weird, creepy, or cute that Homer reminds me in many ways of my sweet baboo? All the good ways and a few of the bad ones. :)