standard midweek apologia

I've got less than zero to offer here this morning. (Except yesterday's word count: 636 and 564(?). Go team.) It's raining AGAIN. Sixty degrees, but raining. Such is my life's soundtrack.

In lieu of nothing, however, I offer you a random paragraph from the novelization of the movie W.W. and the Dixie Dancekings (if you wonder how I came to be in possession of such an artifact, read this). If I were you, I'd imagine it read in the dulcet tones of a young Burt Reynolds:

"This beats any damn thing I ever saw!" raged Wayne. "Not only do we get drug up here to get made fools out of in some little ole amatoor night" -- the others watched him silently as he stormed up and down in the cluttered alley behind Rosie's -- "not only don't we get paid anything, but we're out money on this trip!"