In celebration of the return of my computer, I feel the need to write something of great wit and stunning profoundity, but I'm pooped. Glassy-eyes-and-slumpish-posture-pooped. Oh-God-I-still-gotta-get-up-to-brush-my-teeth-pooped. Pooped. Good word. I think I'm going to try to bring it back. That and "fresh." Fresh as in, "Don't be fresh," when someone says something rude or inappropriate. But frankly, I kind of like when people are inappropriate so I wouldn't want to chastise them. And if instead, I give a wink of encouragement and say: "Oh, that's so fresh, you naughty thing you," it's just weird. Even typing it makes me uncomfortable. Forget fresh. I now officially hate the word fresh because it makes me feel weird and forces me to imagine myself saying things that make me and everyone around me uncomfortable. Anyway, it was co-opted and permanently adulterated by the Masengil people and Will Smith long, long ago. Some mountains are just too high to climb and I feel no compunction to blaze old-new linguistic trails. Especially tonight. You see, I'm too pooped.