If my addiction were just the caffeine I could switch to coffee with little problem. But I love the acid bite of diet Coke, even though I know what it's doing to the calcium in my bones. Damn the man.

Yeah, I liked the bite too, but the effect was a little more immediate than bones. I do plain seltzer with a little lemon juice, which gives me some bite, but leaves my stomach alone. (Very little lemon juice.)

None.

Does this make sense to people?

Maybe they have a different rule for U.S. as an adjective than as a proper noun?

And the megasharks.

That is a big fucking shark.

Maybe they have a different rule for U.S. as an adjective than as a proper noun?

That's what it looks like, but I haven't heard that rule before.

I started this morning sprinting, uh, literally. For the goddamn train and still was late. And had meetings and more meetings interspersed with frantic periods of work, ending with me getting into a slap fight with malware. I have a doctor's appointment for tomorrow afternoon, so I guess we'll see if I have a cold or if I'll get antibiotics tomorrow.

I haven't eaten much today, and I'm starving. So I should get up and make a fajita or something.

Shrift, I am in the chicago area, eating a fajita salad. I may have stolen your evening. But I'm just stopping through o'hare, so I'll be gone and let you resume, soon!

Not loving you, doc.

I'm pretty much at loathing her.

When I said die, clock, I didn't mean for time to become interminably slow.

The echoes of the universe's existential angst is now drifting through the barren empty halls of this airport.

That is to say, our plane's door had mechanical problems. It's been fixed, but now we have to wait for people intended to go on the next flight so that they can combine flights. And those people aren't going to be here until seven. So we have another hour and a half to wait for no reason at all. A total of three extra hours for a forty-five minute flight.