From where I’m sitting, there is a patch of snow drooping down from the roof. It looks as if the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man was blown to pieces and the remnents are leaking (or sticking) down the sides of the house. Now I’m having flashbacks to Ghostbusters - oh, how I miss the zany adventures of that dysfunctional crew of ghost hunters. That, and Inspector Gadget. They revisit me in my dreams at night with their respective theme songs as well.

It’s been cold, but nothing out of the ordinary. A few nights ago (after work) I was stuck out in the middle of a hail storm. Believe me, you’ve never experienced life until your standing out in the middle of what feels like a storm of descending gum drops. I figured out that if I ran to the phone booth and huddled inside there it shielded the cold wind and the gum drops from impounding me into the cement. Whew.

We went and saw Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, the slightly skewed autobiography of Chuck Barris. Overall, it was an interesting movie that seemed to borderline reality with exaggeration. Typically, movies that mess with your mind (like Donnie Darko) freak me out. Not to the point where they are unwatchable, but where I dwell on their images for a while.

With Confessions, it was a movie where you question everything on screen from the get go. I mean, how often do we hear of Pat Sajak or Alex Trebec enlisting themselves in the CIA or FBI. Or, do we?