I think I had too much bread yesterday. I had a big pumpkin muffin for lunch, and dinner was sort of an ongoing affair with twelve breadsticks I got at the mall. Pat & Oscars, by the way, has great breadsticks, and for only about three bucks, I'm able to get four and a little tub of marinara sauce, which constitutes a meal for me. But the barely engaged young server at Pat & Oscars almost invariably gives me a dozen breadsticks, I guess because they're just not used to people ordering any other amount. Which I suppose is a deal for me, but the only problem is that I order four because four is precisely how many I can eat, and these things taste like crap heated up later.
I was on a tight schedule yesterday--I worked on my comic until four, then I went to the bank and after that to the mall, where I got the breadsticks and some minutes for my phone. I ate my four and stashed the rest in the car as I drove to Fry's and picked up a copy of David Lynch's Dune. I got back here at around six and finished the breadsticks while my nerve endings were becoming fused to Second Life over the course of over five hours. Cripes, that's some potent shit. But all my breadsticks had magically vanished by the time I was finished (I blame Nareth's witchcraft).
I watched Dune afterwards, a movie I hadn't seen in a long time. I'd forgotten how beautiful the sets and costumes were. And how wonderfully repulsive Lynch had made the Harkonnens. I'd also forgotten about David Lynch's cameo as a Fremen;
And now Virginia Madsen's spoken introduction reminds me of the beginning of Peter Jackson's Fellowship of the Ring. Dune needed to be bigger.
I probably won't be able to do any Second Life to-day until seven or eight o'clock . . .