Watermarks, Foreheads, and Salmon

I was hoping that my post today would include my first YouTube-ified animated comic strip, but unfortunately the computer gods were not with me over the weekend. Soon, my friends. Very soon I will be able to convert .swf files to .avi files without a giant watermark/rubber stamp in the middle of them. That was the problem, you know. I refuse to make my worldwide debut with a horrible red splotch in the middle of my hard work that even Gorbachev would attest to being rather distracting. Right now, I have a team of experts working to correct this problem, and hopefully we will be up and running shortly.

Meanwhile, I'm working on my law school applications. I don't want to be a lawyer. I don't want to go to law school. Why am I doing this? Because I have to do something.

My hairline's recession sped up a little the past few months. I think this may be a seasonal occurence for this time of year. Luckily, I have not yet suffered the misfortune of a bald spot, though I have had many dreams in which I have lost all of my hair that were so convincing I was actually surprised to still have my mop up top when I awoke. I'm determined to stay positive about the gradual recession of my hairline. I'm not losing hair. I'm gaining forehead. And who doesn't like head?

The applications for the woman of my dreams aren't exactly pouring in, although someone named Tim thinks I'm funny. His spelling is immaculate, but he doesn't qualify for the first requirement of being undeniably female. That's okay, though. I'm not losing hope. However, I think my previous paragraph may be hurting my potential desirability. Let the countdown for my application to Match.com begin!

Delighted. That is how I feel about the Colts victory over the hated Patriots last night. Simply delighted. The best part is that everyone was picking the Pats to win. Everyone...except me! I need to start sports betting. I could be a Thousandaire by now. Once you're a Thousandaire, it doesn't matter how far your hair recedes. Undeniable females would instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano.