The Best-Laid Plans of Mice and Men Gang Aft Agley

That's Robbie Burns, in case you were interested. He was a Scots poet, and he wrote in Scots dialect. Most of the time I can scarcely understand what he's saying, but speakers of the Scots dialect tend to love him. So I suppose I must cut Robbie Burns some slack. Anyway, I could not write poetry, worthwhile poetry which people would be reading hundreds of years after my death, to save my life. (Excuse me while I ponder the singular effect that cliche has on the sense of the sentence.)

There, done pondering. I am not here, ladies and gentlehobbits, to talk about Robbie Burns. Neither am I here to rail against my pathetic video-gaming skills, which have received plenty of practice, but insist on keeping me near the bottom of the pack as regards the pwning of n00bs. (I mean, seriously. I can't get past the Slime Eyes boss at the end of Level 3 of Zelda: Link's Awakening? And now I'm reading forum posts which say that LA is the easiest Zelda game. Griffin, I suck.)

Ah HA! You, my nonexistent readers, most likely are chuckling to your imaginary selves and saying, "Heh heh, he said he was not going to rail, and there he was, railing. Loser." Yet you, my phantom audience, are the losers, because that "rail" there was enclosed in parentheses, which, as everyone knows, divest railing of its legal and ecumenical significance. So no, that was not a rail. And yes, by thinking that it was, you are losers.

Speaking of catastrophes, this post is rapidly becoming a catastrophe. I intended to storm out of the gate with a whoop and a holler, and say all sorts of awesome and philosophical stuff about how we tend to make plans and then they don't happen and oftentimes it's our own fault that said plans don't happen. This was going to be prompted by and illustrated with my own experience this afternoon. I solemnly bound and covenanted myself to take a long nap, beginning at 12 and ending at 4.30. However, I got caught up in various pursuits (read: Zelda and Facebook) and now I only have 3 hours for sleep instead of 4.

But, as I mentioned above, I'm not going to do this. Wait, no. I didn't mention it above: I was going to, but here I am mentioning it for the first time. Heh heh. So, consider it mentioned: I am not going to pontificate on how we are our own worst enemies. Pity, perhaps, because that sounds like a good post. But I'm too sleepy.

Long live long naps!