Telemarketing is just another name for telemindfucking. The minute you stop taking those serenity killing phone calls the world takes a mild turn towards sanity. That and the conversation can geometrically blossom into resolution, mitigation and that Tom Mix's horse was named Tony. We ran through a bunch of swallow double entendres this morning indicating our ship is on course or at least ready to sail. Who's aboard is still open but I wanna be loved by you, just you is playing in the background. Isn't it ironic that teleMFers can come from companies also known as fulfillment houses. How much fulfillment comes from "I'm verbally boning your cerebral cortex intrusively"? I so spent my middle years fixated on fulfillment and now at just the right moment of a lifetime, we have it. It's been filled and it's full - tell me that not glorious? I marked my spot on this space and put all my empties in the trash.

And they're off, no meloxicam is in the lead followed by omega3s and a multiple. The new PPI is quietly heading towards the front and Mr.ED/BPH filly is heading home. But the winner and still undefeated is half zolpidem currently asleep on paradise's bed. The next broadcast will be brought to you by girl scout cookie mint flavored organic. Peace out.