What's the Frequency, Donna?

Had a dream that I was waiting in various endless lines at Pittsburgh Airport. The lines were in a bombed out industrial/factory war zone versus Pittsburgh's slick airport/shopping galleria though. Was I getting in line to buy a ticket, board, go through security or what? Unknown.

It felt, there in my sleepy-time world, like I was panic queuing  just to find out what the lines were all about. Ya know, what's the purpose, why are we here, am I where I should be, what's the frequency, Kenneth and shit.

Nothing like waking up on the existential side of the bed.

Also WHY was I in Pittsburgh anyway?

Now I have the Jona Lewie tune I’ll Get By In Pittsburgh floating around I my bean. Cool.

Alrighty, it's time to don some gay apparel and go sit in the dentist's chair. Joy. This morning's torture session is the initial meet and greet—X-rays, discussion, planning, anticipation of pain. 

Motherfucking oodles of joy.