starbucks 10.jpg Oh, man. I had a booger on my finger and now it's gone. There's no telling where it is. Probably hanging from my eyebrow or something, and wobbling when I talk to people, and as soon as I turn away they stifle a gag. I wasn't picking my nose; I just felt an itch and brushed my nostril and there it was. It could be stuck to my glasses or sitting on my shoulder, I just don't know. And now I'm going to be paranoid all day, watching people carefully for a sign of revulsion as they talk to me. Of course, I get that a lot anyway, so it'll be hard to tell. Isn't blogging wonderful? You can talk about any old thing that comes into your head, and nobody can stop you. This all came about because it's the fifty-thousandth drawing of bored executive wannabes at Starbucks and I had nothing to say about them. I'm pretty much--I FOUND IT! It was on my pantsleg. Oh, thank God, now I can go about my day a happy man-child.