Root cellar blues.
Don't tell me what day it is. No, really - I don't want to know. Just let me pretend that it's still Saturday. Yessss.... Saturday.... Oh, man. Typing in my sleep again. Someone should really take this laptop away from me. I'm liable to post ANYTHING while I'm sleeping, even (dare I say it?) the password to Marvin (my personal robot assistant). That's all you would need to make him do YOUR bidding, however inaccurately. Actually, (*yawn*) his password is a vegetable that starts with "P" followed by the fifth number up from zero. Do your worst. Don't forget to oil him regularly, and if he asks you to feed him, just ignore it. He fancies himself some kind of humanoid or cyborg, but that's pretty far from the truth. For chrissake, Mitch Macaphee made him out of bits and spares. Nothing of value in ... HEY! STOP KICKING ME, MARVIN! THAT HURTS!! Word to the wise - he gets kind of ornery sometimes. Or at least since we sent him down that enormous rab...