it's a numbers thing.

Time I have left to finish my final paper?

5 hours.

Time I have left to sleep if I take 5 hours?

None.

Number of hours where I'll either be in training or meetings at work today, and so should be cognitive?

At least 3.

Pages I have left in my paper?

Who knows. At this point I have to finish making my point. I thought an hour ago that it would only be an hour.

Edit.

Add citations. This last part being my least favourite.


Oh? And I have a social dinner this evening, where, you know, I should be social. That I'm looking forward to, even if I might come off sounding like a pure idiot. Because? I'll be fucking done for the semester. Hallelujah!!

worst timing ever!

Due to obsession with coffee, and multiple purchases of said coffee (and it all just started with the love of the Blueberry compliments of Stretch), I've been drinking quite some coffee lately.

Granted, I love the coffee, and buying it really is an attempt to save money, plus it's so much better than the the free coffee available at work. Plus? It's awesome.

With the semester coming towards an end though, I find myself once again, not only drinking coffee in the morning but at night as well.

I might have, most definitely, gone overboard with my last order from Green Mountain. It was becauase I had to save from the month before and buy the coffee later - and there was pumpkin, pumpkin!, being offered. I mean I love anything pumpkin. Plus other holiday awesome sounding coffee. So of course ordered the pumpkin, and gingerbread. And eggnog. And caramel vanilla cream swirl. And cinnamon cream swirl (it was supposed to pretty much be akin to tasting a cinnamon bun).

Most of the flavours were pretty disappointing. Especially the pumpkin. Like, it's fine, but it's not great, or awesome, or amazing, or anything akin to having a pumpkin spice latte. Which really? Totally a happy ending in a cup. I mean, buying all these bags of coffee is really an attempt to save money by not going to Starbucks. I mean, really, really? Five fucking dollars for a latte? It's robbery. Plus the fact that as an establishment I don't like Starbucks either.

Despite my not liking Starbucks, I have to admit they make a mean fucking holiday latte. Pumpkin spice? Check. Gingerbread? Check. Peppermint (though this year it's a mocha - but still)? Check. Eggnog? Check. They're awesome and every single time I see a huge bus poster for them, I want to rob the person in front of me and hightail it to Starbucks.

I was kind of overly optimistic I guess because the Blueberry was so awesome. The only flavours that were really good out of the new batch were Eggnog and Caramel Vanilla Cream Swirl. Especially the latter, which is kind of a happy ending. As much as you'll get one that doesn't cost $5. I mean pumpkin was okay, but the Gingerbread and Cinnamon one...well. I had to power through. It was really, really disappointing. Still not done with the pumpkin, bought two bags, and I've been saving the last of Eggnog and Caramel.

So today, I decided, maybe if I buy it today it won't be in this month's AmEx bill. And? I wanted more of the good stuff - I was tired of powering through. That might be because I've been drinking so much and am so utterly fucking stressed out.

Anyway, ordered more Eggnog and stocked up (at least I know this time that it won't become available all year like Blueberry did), and a few others. Essentially, just over the $50 line.

Got an email a couple of minutes ago that said all purchases over $50 for a short period of time will have free shipping.

Like four hours later! Instead I'm paying like eight fucking dollars for shipping.

Fuck. You. Again! Green Mountain. I mean really. Each time.

Last time you said Blueberry was seasonal so I stocked up on that shit because we were about to switch seasons, and then suddenly it's Pumpkin and Blueberry is available all year. So I have to wait to order the other awesome sounding coffee.

Fuckers.

whoops!

It's um, a little bad that I just opened my birthday card from my mother really, really early.

But then? It didn't say "Happy Birthday" and maybe it was just supposed to a hang in there, with a cat and everything man, because I've been sick and stressed out.

Plus? Two things I'm waiting for in the mail haven't arrived yet.

So I know of, slit it open to see if the card seemed to be birthday themed. Unfortunately? Nothing to give it away. So I ended up opening the entire thing and looking at the cover, which still doesn't really allude to birthday, but I'm pretty sure that's the card.

Since this will be the only physical mail I'll be opening on my birthday, I shoved it back into the envelope as quickly as possible and retaped it up.

That should be the same, right?

World AIDS Day.

AIDS is nothing to be forgotten - something society seems to be doing.

Today is World AIDS Day, something my high school was always very consciencious about. It could have been the fact that WHO headquarters were there, but I always felt a little bit better by doing something that day.

Donating something towards the cause, and what I think is most important is maintaing visibility of the disease.

Bristol-Meyer Squibb is donating $1 for every candle lit today HERE.

GO.

Help the cause.

It takes two seconds.

Hopefully, we'll soon have a cure.

i like your wig.

What???

I'm going slightly deaf. Or am totally on my joyous way to having a little device put in my ear to aid in my hearing.

Perhaps it's my impending birthday making me feel old.

At least I feel less like a mid, or shall I say a quarter century crisis.

I digress.

Deaf? Check!

In a meeting today about fiscal responsibility. Fucking. Boring. And a waste of my time because I'm never going to be in a position at my job where the information will matter.

Whatever.

Anyway, I was sitting next to my co-worker and he said something quietly that I couldn't here, so I made the universally recognized grunt noise of, "huh?" You know, something akin to Tim Allen, but eons less annoying and is roughly translated the same in every fucking language?

Yup, that's the one.

Anyway, he said it again, and I'm usually too embarassed at this point to ask people to say it again, so I again do that universal gesture thing, and do a weird chuckle, and a low slash mumbled, 'oh. yeah.'

This will sometime work, though sometimes it doesn't and people keep on looking at me.

Waiting for a response.

Because they've actually asked me a question, and so clearly are waiting for an answer.

Sometimes? That awkward pause will continue forever, and I'll have to go through the whole long deaf story and ask them to say it again.

Today in the meeting I think my co-worker was expecting a response, but it was a meeting...and I couldn't ask him to speak loud enough for me to hear because of the, you know, meeting level of speaking.

Isn't half faking a conversation something people do when they're 60 and like pretending they're not losing their hearing???

I digress.

I was at the store again trying to exchange this shampoo I bought because I actually thought it was the conditioner and it was taking like 40 hours for the girl to figure it out.

It's an exchange. Oh the fuck well. Anyway, so this other chick comes along and says something and all I can make out a bit is the word 'curls.'

Maybe.

So of course, I'm all, 'what?'

And I swear I thought I heard her say, "I like your wig."

So normally at this point I would let it go and be all, 'uh, yeah, thanks' because I don't want to sound like a jackass, and that I think it's you're fault that I can't understand you. When? I'm the deaf one.

But a fucking wig??? Are you fucking kidding me?

So more clearly,and with emphasis this time: "What?"

And the chick who's helping me is all, "She likes your curls."

And I'm somewhat chagrined and, if this is possible, still skeptical. And mumble a "thanks." A bit drawn out though, because I still think that she thinks that I have a fucking wig on. Or you know curled extensions, which? No fucking way.

I've got to get that hearing checked at some point.

it's snowing bitches!

Woot!!!!

The first snow of the year, and I'm so excited because I'm at my sister's sitting in her warm bed 'studying.'

Or you know, doing my damndest to do that in a good way.

I love me some snow and am excited about the flurries outside my window.

Sweet!

Happy Thanksgiving!

like four square miles, right?

DC is a small fucking city. Granted, it's not four square miles, but it's pretty itty bitty teeny tiny. Especially if you consider how small it is to most major metropolitan cities. Plus? The area that most people usually traverse is usually more condensed. Like, yes, I already know Killer, you travel all around the district, but this is a rare fact.

This makes the not running into people thing a major surprise. Granted, most people do say how they are always running into someone they kind of know, or don't really want to see, or you know something along those awkward kind of run-ins. For the most part, this isn't true for me.

I'm usually the one all, 'yeah, that'd be cool to run into so and so...' Doesn't happen.

I believe what makes me more upset though, is when I know that a celebrity has been in town or is in town. Someone I wouldn't mind seeing, but obviously don't really give a damn enough about stalking. Or, sometimes I'm just that inefficient.

Most painful? George Clooney.

Who I guess was here rather often when filming "K Street," yes...the blink and you'll miss it series on HBO. Pretty tough to be cancelled that quickly, eh Georgie?

And I guess randomly here also. Doin who knows what, and who really cares. I think he'd be the only one I'd be interested in stalking. I mean we're not New York, we're not LA. Our celebrities are politicians, so when the 'real' celebrities are here and I miss them, I kind of am all, 'aw, that's too bad.'

So it seems that Angelina was in town again - which? With her UN stuff not that rare, but rare enough. But it's usually a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of visit without being in DC.

It seems she took her son to one of the Smithsonians this weekend.

And? Was seen house hunting with Brad Pitt.

Not only that, the photo snapped? Totally on one my bus routes.

It's the so close I could probably smell your after-shave if I wasn't at home trying to either do my homework or shake-off the alcohol and much stronger than needed cigarette the night before.

Hey, maybe if they move here I'll finally see her.

Because Angelina Jolie? Hot.

hanes: the new ground for washed up celebrities

How little money does Hanes have? Or I guess it would make more sense to say 'not have.'

I'm doing some serious unprecedented amounts of procrastinating right now. I'm this is pretty impressive - even for me.

So I'm watching live TV - Live! With commercials! That you can't fast-forward! The novelty!

So I'm watching Chicago on Bravo - which? Awful editing in commercials, like the just fucking cut it off in the middle of Queen Latifah's awesome 'Mama' number. If Bravo isn't careful, Queen's girlfriend is going to knock someone out! There's no disrespecting Queen! I actually have no bounds for my love for Queen. Like, I totally believe that she's probably really cool in real life. Which? The likelihood of a celebrity being cool and not a spoiled jackass is pretty minimal.

I digress.

So, whilst watching I noticed a new Hanes ad. I was all, that's not Michael Jordan! Dude, Damon Wayans how did you get here from "In Living Color?" I realize your show was cancelled from ABC - but I mean really, what did you expect? Not so good. I was already asking that sell-out question then. But a Hanes ad? Hanes?

Then in the next commercial break there's another ad.

This time? Marisa Tomei. Marisa Tomei?

There are rumours that she won the Oscar because Mr. McOldy misread the prompter - but let's not dwell on that. Though it would make her win make more sense. But Oscar might the only thing she has to hold on to now. I mean that would make her schilling for the ads make more sense. Plus? Does anyone under the age of 20 even know who she is?

Hanes asks, "Look who we've got our Hanes on now?"

Or I do that reading from the statement, because who?

the l word. again.

I think I've clearly established in the past that I'm a tidge obsessed with the L word. I say a tidge. And I think that may also be the wrong tense because I think I might actually not be obsessed with the L word anymore.

Thanks Ilene Chaiken! With work and school, and school and work I could actually really do with those extra hours in the day.

First season? Brilliant - I mean really? Why else would I be obsessed. Also how else I was I able to get everyone else obsessed with the show as well? I mean after PMF was here for the weekend visiting, and we ended up watching until 5 in the morning, she both wanted to do Shane and be Shane. Or. You know. A lesbian in L.A.

Second season? Meh. I've ranted enough about how it went down the crapper. And how Betty essentially single-handedly ruined it as well. I mean I was hoping to start a petition for them to get the fuck rid of her.

Signs for Season 3? New theme song. Still Betty. Not only is she more involved in the music this season. For some reason, and it can't be experience, she was allowed to write episode 8 of season 3. Fuck. You. Ilene. Chaiken.

And? Fuck. You. Elizabeth. Ziff.

I understand you, yes you Ilene, like to be edgy and don't want to be seen as a lesbian series, nor as representing lesbians. Fine. I. Get. IT. That's no reason to kill the show. Oh? And Dana.

Whilst waiting for my discussion section to be begin I noticed the three girls to my left were talking about the L word and how cool it was. They were obviously talking about the first season, and this one chick was like, ooh, they're all really glamourous (yes) and I guess that's what it's like in L.A.

I tried, but couldn't resist, so kind of busted into the conversation. Briefly.

But then they were all, what Tina do again before she quit her job?, and of course I again had to bust in and say the answer.

Sad. Sad. Sad.

Fuck you Ilene for now making me look semi-pathetic.

mother. fucker.

The title of my post was actually going to be "Come back Sam Beam" who, for those uninformed, is Iron & Wine.

I've been checking semi-regularly on his webpage about tour dates. Granted it's been a few weeks, but I've been busy with life.

I just checked and he's back at the 9:30 club on the 30th of this month. Touring with Calexico, who I recently discovered and bought music from. Seemingly a perfect concert. Though I did enjoy seeing him at Iota Cafe.

When I saw it was so close and he was now 'big' enough to be playing at the 9:30 club. Seems I had reason to worry.

Tickets are sold out!

Mother. Fucker!

it must be pretty bad...

When I my browser didn't even remember my address when I was typing it in.

I guess I really do post that sporadically. Things have been both busy and rough - but you can't keep a good bitch down. Or? Twat.

Twat is my new favourite word. I shout it out like I have Tourette's Syndrome - which? I think that would potentially be an awesome disease to have because it would totally explain my foul mouth.

It's a fact, I seriously enjoy swearing. I believe that I've even posted about that in the fact, and despite the fact that fuck will always be the go-to swear word. I mean really it can totally convey so much emotion.

In the same way that that awful movie with the boys from South Park, "Baseketball" had them saying "Dude" to each other with massive different intonations. I only know this becuase it's the beginning ad on one of my favourite tapes - I believe it must be "Out of Sight." Probably one of the last movies where I respected Jennifer Lopez as an actor, and the chemistry between her and George Clooney is off the charts. Though? I think George Clooney and a wall could have chemistry. It's illegal for someone to be that handsome.

Back to the twat though. I love the word. I have no idea why. So I'm currently shouting it out at all times, and in fact the other day when I was going from my shared office to Curly's office, I was all, "Whattup TWAT!" and Curly was like, um, you being talked to if you say the word twat any louder? Well, at least something similar to that.

I was in NY a couple of weeks ago. Okay, quite some time now, which? Makes me sad. I'm planning a December trip for my birthday though, so it's all good, but my mom, as per usual called. She of course was asking about my sister, and of course telling a story about how she didn't pick up the phone or wasn't returning her phone call, or something along the lines of what happens when my mother tries to contact her. In both of their defenses' my sister should be better about calling back later, and my mother should be better about not being a stalker in her calling habits. Anyway, to empathize with my mother and diffuse the situations somewhat, as I have to do all the time, I said my sister was just being her normal twat self. This was all fine and good, and ultimately by the end of the conversation my mother was more calm.

What surprised me though was that as my mother was saying goodbye to me, she was all, "Bye, you twat you!" with genuine affection in her voice.

I think my mother clearly does not understand the meaning of the word twat.

m day confirmed.

I found out at a happy hour event the actual day when I am going to be moving offices - and joining in a shared office.

This is sad, sad day that will not get me any sympathy except from other people in the office because no one else has to share an office.

Otherwise?

People have no sympathy. Killer? "Yeah, I have a big open space with three other people and sometimes this intern." No sympathy there. Though she does understand.

On Friday I was talking to people at my internship that I was having to share an office, and the guy gave me this, "girl, please!" look. Granted he shares the small office space with four other people.

Despite all this, my office was awesome because of it's centeral location, and I might have a crappy desk now. Next Friday will be a dark day. The one shining fact being that it will begin the Halloween Festivities.

Probably the only thing that could make me feel better.

best. holiday. ever. coming!

Okay, so there are certain holidays that we always look forward to.

Scratch that, now that we're adults - or I'm i the working world - any time that I get a day I'm fucking pumped. But there are those holidays that might not get you a day off of work that are awesome.

Now I do have to preface this and say that of course I like Christmas. I mean, who doesn't right? I mean, clearly, other than the Jews, and others that believe in a religion that specifically doesn't believe in Jesus. Or God.

How did this transition into a horribly un-PC post?

I digress. I love Christmas - but almost more for the fact that you get so many days, and there is a guarantee of presents. But there are points that I don't like. Fighting with family because you're sick of them. The eventual disappointment of it 'all' being over. Very anti-climatic. Plus? Sad when you think of family members that are no longer with you celebrating because they've passed on or unable to make it.

My favourite holiday? Easter.

Weird. I know. But it's my favourite holiday when I celebrate it with Mrs. B. and her family. They make it an extravaganza. There are traditions, there is awesome food, there is camraderie, and there is her loud, but highly entertaining family. And the best? The glory of being the winners of the egg toss - especially the over the house egg toss.

That my friends takes skill.

My second favourite holiday? And it's a very, very close second. It should more be a tie. And is the first when I can't join Mrs. B. for Easter?

Fucking Halloween.

How can you not love Halloween. When you're a kid you get to dress up to your heart's content and get oodles of candy. Oodles. Of. Candy. Plus? Any holiday that has themed candy! Awe. Some. And despite the fact that there is the very astute description of candy corn as 'ear wax,' it's still fucking awesome candy.

When I was a kid I fucking ROCKED the vampire outfits. For like three years in a row actually. I had a thing for vampires - my last year being the best. I remember I returned to class and people were all, um who are you, and why are you taking this stuff?, because I was picking my show & tell shit up from earlier in the day. Sigh. Loved those days.

Now as an adult, there are other things to look forward to. Mostly, the fun of finding an awesome outfit and preparing for the evening, and instead of candy you get drunk and have an awesome time. Or, you know, get a different type of candy. From strangers - where it doesn't matter that they're strangers anymore.

Anyway, my outfit? Is set. It's awesome. I've tried it on multiple times.

Plans were finalized with CBF tonight about where we're going. He's coming down - and it's going to be fucking awe. Some!

And in order to not burn out quickly, I'm going to try and post funny memories and stories leading up to the extravaganza of next weekend.

Halloween, here we come!

longest. week. ever.

My job job. Is. Well...awful. I don't want to go into too many details, but the task that I'm doing out of my office is pretty fucking awful.

I actually think that's putting it mildly.

I'm knackered beyond belief. With tedious work work all day. Class assignments, and I'm fairly positive I handed in something that was crap on Monday, and my internshp.

Internship. I love ye, but you're fucking. killing. me.

Plus? I think I might be getting sick. Or sick.

I still have loads of work to do, and sleep is just...not near.

And? I'm not sure when this off-site assignment is going to end. It's seriously the worst thing ever.

Though I did have to laugh today when I went to go get a soda at 2 (in the afternoon, just to be clear) to try and stay awake, despite the fact that the caffeine count for the day was already pretty fucking high, and the 'lunch room' was fucking bursting with people. I had to dodge and weave my way to the machine.

Half of them? Watching a soap really loud.

The other half? Sleeping.

Heads on the table, nap time, sleeping.

This my friends is why jack shit ever gets done.

My question is, how the fuck are the sleeping with that really loud TV on in the background, along with this really loud fan because the room's so fucking hot because there are so many people in it, and, just with that many people around?

so i know i'm obsessed.

I get obsessive about things. Songs. Shows. Pretty much anything.

But then, who doesn't? Right?

I may be worse than the average person, but I like to think it's just a version of my passion.

I realized that I currently totally working an obsession on my CBC (Cute Bartender Crush, just for an update) when I was watching "Casablanca" tonight for a class and as I was watching Humphrey Bogart I kept on thinking, "who the hell does he remind me of."

My ultimate decision? Kind of CBC. Like if CBC was that age.

I think I have it bad.

I know the only reason for this is because I saw him last Friday for the first time in a couple of months. Granted it would help if I actually frequented the bar more than once a couple of months, but that would just be too easy.

Anyway.

I totally forgot just how cute and adorable he actually was.

That said, I don't think he actually is anything like the Bogart.

Thank goodness.

humour in a time of darkness.

CBF has been having real issues with his new job, in that it's just a very, very, very difficult and tiring job. He expected the worst, and somehow, it was even worse.

We've been talking regularly, as usual, though not daily and I think him talking slash venting about it does seem to help. And really? From the stories he tells, I'm fucking amazed.

One of the reasons that I love him so dearly is that we are able to make our worst pain really funny. He's even better than me; because somehow after of course serious "Shit, that's awful. I'm sorries," he will always tell an anecdotal story that has us ending up laughing really hard.

We've both been going through some stress lately, and one of the things we share right now is the fact that we're both fucking poor. I mean I budgeted the next week down to the dime. I have no room for error. I looked up the cost of toilet paper online at CVS so I could geusstimate how much it was going to cost with my Drano and two other essential items.

I digress. But I guess that's an update on the last post of not taking toilet paper from my office.

Anyway, we were both lamenting our poverty, and he was saying how was in Virgin Megastore and he really wanted the new Tracy Chapman CD, but then he was all, "I'm not a lesbian. I don't need her new CD!!" to convince himself. I don't know if it was his delivery or just the joke itself, but we both fucking died laughing.

Then I had to laugh again today, because I went to one of my favourite daily sites, Afterellen.com, a lebian/bi media viewed site that is pretty interesting and funny, along with its' younger brother Afterelton.com, and the lead story is a review of the new Tracey Chapman CD.

I had to bust out laughing.

It's funny because it's true.

how poor are you?

So poor that I'm contemplating toilet paper from work until my next paycheck.

The even sadder part?

If I do indeed decide to take some, I'd be unrolling a shit-load (pardon the pun) from the roll because they're locked in.

How poor is everyone else?

Updated to add: So poor that I was really excited when I got a $5 bill in the mail with some stupid article from my mom. That's just pathetic.

it's that damn accent.

I, like pretty much everyone else I'm sure, have a total thing for accents. Especially Irish and British ones. I mean you become exponentially more attractive with an accent. I mean teeth are a big thing for me. You need to have good teeth, and so if you don't have good teeth that's a turn-off.

If you have an accent? Suddenly those teeth might just not be that horrible. Granted, not all accents have that effect on me, and I have to generally say that I do enjoy the Australian accent sometimes, though I often find it sounds like they're complaining, and the Scottish one doesn't do that much for me, but it still helps.

I have a total fangirl crush on Craig Ferguson.

Yes.

That Craig Ferguson.

The one that was on the Drew Carey show after it had already jumped the ship.

The one who didn't really stand out that much on the show anyway; which? Granted it's a little difficult with the likes of Mimi, but I just didn't really notice him.

It's probably because his accent was Scottish, and I would most likely have to say his true personality didn't come out. He was the chosen successor of Craig Kilborn, and really? Does anyone even remember that he began the Daily Show compared the shining brilliance of Jon Stewart, and does anyone think he isn't a complete fucking jackass, because I sure don't. He has always grated on my nerves like no other. Whenever I saw him hosting his late show, and I was watching for the guest, I invariably found myself shouting profanities at the screen.

I don't really watch late night programs anymore. I don't have the time. Jay Leno's turned into a complete wanker. David Letterman is pretty funny but not enough so that I should be punking my homework for him, and he bugs sometimes as well. I think I just have less patience at the particular hour. Though I can always watch Conan and have since the beginning. It was one of the few programs that aired in English in high school. I digress.

I've since caught the Late Show with Craig Ferguson and each time I find myself giggling at his skits like some schoolgirl crushee and just generally thinking, he's so fucking funny and adorable. And isn't that accent the cutest? Though I again, just generally don't watch late night television.

I just plopped on his program again, and it was hilarious and he was just fucking hot, and he's even rocking the gently graying hair.

I would totally fuck that.

shock and aww

It's interesting. Every year with each awards show, I pretend that I'm not going to watch. And I also pretend to not care who wins because I'm upset with half the people that are nominated and shocked by those that aren't.

This year was especially horrible.

Patricia Arquette, who seemingly is incapable of expressing an emotion because she lost that emotive capability when born I'm assuming, won for best actress in a drama. What the fuck? She was the last person I thought who would win. I was wondering if the other actresses in the category were all, "really?" I mean she had some typical competition. The ones that the Emmy voters enjoy nominating and whatnot, but it was so bizarre.

I thought I was going to be most upset by the fact that Arrested Development was going to be robbed of a Best Comedy award by Desperate Housewives which is over-rated drivel in comparison, and not really a comedy. Wrong. I was okay with Everybody [Hates] Raymond winning because that wasn't unexpected and it wasn't DH.

Though how can a series that is nominated three times in the best writing for a comedy and wins! in that category not win for actual best comedy? I think I was okay with it because at least AD won for best writing in a comedy series.

Are Emmy voters actually watching the shows they're being sent? I mean Patricia Arquette? I mean most winners were to be expected, but really?!?!

And Ellen. I love you. I love your show. I think you're awesome, and I'm surprised that they were able to make you un-funny. You were the best thing about the Grammy's two years ago with the rotating hosts. I've watched your specials. You're hilarious. I was saddened by your hosting. Yet? Couldn't look away despite the pile of reading I need to do.

The best part might have been with Kristin Bell sang Fame. Stupidest gimmick ever, but Kristin rocked the song and reminded me why I was excited about watching Veronica Mars again. It's been too long and I hope you don't suffer a soph slump like every other show on the planet.

Except for Arrested Development, whose second season might have been better than the first, which is pretty impressive. I can't say enough about it. Thank goodness Fox hasn't cancelled it yet, and everyone in the world should watch it tomorrow at 8 on Fox. Do it. It'll be the best half-hour of your day.

Funny, how the reading is still there. Hours ahead of me. Awesome. And I'm sitting here posting about the trite Emmys.

I guess the semester really has begun again.

crappy mondays.

It seems the general feeling of Mondays this week is a resounding: crappy.

CBF left me a message about how today was one of those day's where you want to quit your job and then kill yourself. Which? I can totally understand. He sounded exhausted and I believe sleeping or too tired to talk when I called.

Stretch called and left a long message on my answering machine while I was out with the kids in my program to the point where she was cut off from the machine. Something I'm familiar with, but that's because I can never shut the fuck up when I'm leaving a message.

Stretch's day? Long and crappy. Including an unfortunate incidence of a fender bender.

On a new car.

Crappy.

In high school, and well, it started when I was in middle and elementary school, I always loved "Garfield." Couldn't get enough of the cartoon and as a youngster (before 3rd grade. Trust me on this) I had a night t-shirt with Garfield and my horoscope on it. Or at least what my sign supposedly represented. I digress.

One thing I really came to appreciate in high school was Garfield's constant hatred of Mondays. I hated going to school again on Mondays. Wishing it was the weekend already.

It's weird. I haven't really had that strong of a reaction to Monday's in quite some time, but right now, all I want to do is go back to sleep and wake up and have it be Tuesday.

Maybe it's time to embrace the inner Garfield, and maybe it was just a really bad Monday for a lot of people out there.

new york! new york!

I'm off again, hoping that the China town express (and really? More of a hamlet than a town. A street.) will bring me safely and on time. That they don't try and fix the engine with a hammer this time. I mean really. I've never fixed a car, but I don't think hammering it will help!

I'm off for my last weekend before the semester begins. Instead of staying home as I should, I'm traveling for 5 hours each way for a merry time. Or so I hope.

Actually? I fucking love the city. I'm sure it'll be fun. I almost love the city as much as CBF, or in 50's immortal words, "like a fat kid loves cake." I don't know why that has always been my favourite line by him.

What am I expecting to do this weekend? Relax. Get a pedicure. (Because seriously? The place in CBF's neighbourhood is fucking a-mazing! The last time when the guy was giving me a serious massage, not that slap-slap with some lotion and you're done type of shit, I swear I almost had a happy ending in the chair!) Potentially have my eyebrows threaded. Relax. Walk around the city. Relax. Buy accessories I have no business buying and in no way need. Relax. *

I hope everyone has a fabulous weekend, and I would just like to take this time to blame Stretch for me taking a cab yesterday to jury duty and wasting money. I'll extrapolate on that later.

*Drinking should be added after each activity.

taking bets.

It seems that Stretch and Killer were making bets about whether I would update my blog or call Stretch.

Sigh.

It seems I failed on both accounts. Or they would have somehow made money on both.

I do have to say though that my mother's internet is frustratingly slow. I mean glaciers move faster. The Titanic sunk faster than it does to load a page with any graphics on it.

Plus? We were constantly running around with appointments and whatnot, and let me tell you, a 3 hour time difference is a very large wall to leap. In fact, I didn't talk to anyone whilst I was at home. Not even CBF. If that makes Stretch feel any better.

So, I guess this is my 'sorry' post.

That? And I'm fucking crazy because I forgot I'm going to New York this weekend.

Just as i got back.

preparing for dry heat.

Not to be confused with dry heaving.

Okay.

It must be time to take a break because that was just fucking atrocious.

I've been away this week due to my business with work and internship, but I'm about to jet off to dry heat with a layover in the city of sin, so I'll be posting more.

My music suggestion for the day though is "Blood Bleeds" by The Helio Sequence. It's one of those songs you can just listen to for hours and it kind of sounds like you're floating. I know that sounds weird, but at the moment with stress from work and whatnot, that's the best I can come up with.

Stretch? I'll be calling because I'll have reception and time.

where everybody knows your name.

So who doesn't wish that they had a bar where you were considered a regular and got free drinks.

That has always sort of been my wish. I think it's the free drinks part that I would really love. Plus? Totally cool with the wait staff. I think the closest that this has ever happened since moving to DC is Nanny O'Brian's, and even then, it's only when I'm with Killer because she knows them. Plus? Cute bartender.

Note to self (and Killer) it's time to hit Nanny's again. Must see if CBC is still working there.

What I think is truly sad is that the front desk chick at my tanning salon doesn't ask for my name anymore when I go in.

So I haven't achieved that name thing yet with a bar, but I have with a tanning salon.

What is wrong with me?

stoned white guy dance.

As Shortie said when we were discussing it, "You're body just isn't supposed to bend like that."

Shortie is a huge fan of Jerry Garcia. And I do mean Jerry Garcia, not just Grateful Dead, though that may be her main love. She's loved them for ages, and I guess, who can really blame her. I went through a bit of a Dead phase in high school, but it was mainly their Skeleton's in the Closet CD.

I remember having a discussion junior year in college, with a bunch of pretty preppy girls, and they were discussing how everyone goes through a hippie or punk stage. I mean, this one girl was talking about her hippie phase in high school, and I couldn't even fucking imagine it.

I still think she was lying.

Perhaps a hippie phase is a rite of passage that everyone does take and some people just don't grow out of.

I now know, for certain, that some just don't.

Due to the fact that Shortie was nice enough to accompany me to Iota for the Joseph Arthur concert, I agreed to go with her for the Jerry Garcia tribute concert on Tuesday.

And if anything, it was not all for naught considering I found out that August 9th is big because it was also the same day that Nixon resigned. Trivia fact I won't forget for at least a week.

I have never been to a Dead show, nor have I been to a Phish concert so I wasn't quite sure what kind of crowd to expect at the tribute concert, but I would have to say that Shortie and I were well below the mean age. Now there were some 'younger' people our age, some that were hot, but not that many. It seems that those preppy boys in New England travel down south too.

The place was fucking packed to the gills. I was surprised to say the least. Most of all when there was a person who traveled from California. California. For the concert. Like, dude, the man is dead and the person singing there on the stage 'sn't him. Not only that, but you're like at least mid-thirties and you've got a mouthful of fucking metal. I'm totally not standing next to you during a summer storm. When she was on stage for accepting her prize for traveling the furthest and she smiled, I thought I was going to be blinded by the reflection bouncing from her gaping maw. I know. It's a framed photo. It's cool. But try and not catch too many bugs.

As Shortie and I arrived early )she was taking pictures of the band for the band, so needed to be there early for a good spot), we found a space by the bar to order our drinks. Unfortunately it was next to one of the 'different' patrons who were excited about hearing Jerry's music. He immediately started blathering on to us about something, I can't even remember fucking what. I just remember thinking, a) where the fuck did the bartender go? and b) dude. Buy yourself some teeth. Everyone past the age of 40 does it. When there is nothing stopping any foreign object from getting into your mouth when it's in a closed position, it's time to look into some fucking options. There was also, of course, the last thought of, shut your fucking trap fuckwit.

I was a little tired and cranky.

I remember that Vh1 earlier this year was running a spcial on like high school fads or something. Or my high school years or something, and then had stars talking about them. One of them was a hippie one, and it had people talking about getting stoned and going to the different concerts. One of them, I believe it was Jim Breuer (good choice Vh1!), talking about the stoner hippie dance that everyone would do but was atrocious.

I had never seen it before Tuesday night.

It only took one song before some dude with his tie-dyed shirt with the Dead and long stringy hippy hair with no shoes busted to the front and started doing the dance. I mean. I think you could scare away people with the dance. It doesn't go along with the music. It looks a-tro-cious and ridiculous, wrapped in a 'what the fuck are you doing still dancing like this in your mid-40's' all wrapped into one. I was standing there thinking, Are you fucking kidding me? Then the mobs started joining in.

I can't even quite describe it. It's sorts of like, you know where if you were walking in a sheet and pretending to be a ghost with your arms out and walking in a weird way? It's kind of like that with a vicious bopping added to it. And this one dude, who should totally be sore, was doing this aggravated bopping back and forth. I'm surprised he didn't actually hurt someone.

Then of course there was the corporate sell-out trying to dance with his girlfriend. If you're wearing an ironed white short-sleeved button down shirt and front pleated khakis looking like any other geek drone, you're not allowed to try and rock out to Jerry's music. Or block my fucking view of the band, or almost step on me because you're trying to 'dance.' Fucker.

Then there was the other guy, clearly old, I mean count the number of hairs left on your head to tell your age, who replaced the annoying metronome dancer and starting doing a weird fucking fusion of the shake with a stoner movement. And get in my personal space and step on me. I was here first and you're just being obnoxious. Shake that flabby old ass away from me and towards the stage!

When not infringing on my personal space it was really funny, and the band did a really good of covering the songs and sending a good vibe to the crowd. They had this one musician with them, who played with Jerry at a concert and was fucking awesome. He had more soul in his tambourine than the entire band combined with the audience. He fucking rocked, especially when he got the lead on some songs. The voice and harmonica playing was almost what really made it for me.

What was interesting as well, was the size of the band. They had all the instruments, and as I told Shortie in the beginning, which? To make this easier for me from now on, I'm reverting to her nickname Stretch gave her in college. Sorry Killer. Hope you're not confused. Plus? I got bored with Shortie. I digress. So, I was telling Killer that I was excited someone was going to be playing the fiddle, because I really do love me some good, live fiddle playing in a band. And the girl was really good at it too.

I think stoners might single-handedly be the reason why there is the stigma that white men can't dance.

Or maybe they should really restrict that to, white straight men can't dance.

fucking cocksucker wanker

I found this advert during my initial obsession with The OC last year.

Yes. Previous to the L Word.

And it's sad really, because I think that's pretty much gone now too. Well, we'll clearly have to wait and see about that, but for the moment I'm doing pretty good.

I digress though.

I fucking love to swear. I have a mouth like a sailor, and I know sometimes it does get me into a little trouble when there are times where I shouldn't swear, but I just love to do it. Plus, it can be funny or it can really help you vent when you're pissed.

I don't understand people that don't like to swear.

Anyway, an advert in Britain, because yeah, when we were all up in arms with a nipple people, has famous actors, mostly American and of the TV variety, including a gaggle of West Wingers and all of the Scrubs cast saying their favourite swear words.

It's fucking brilliant and hilarious. The original link I had died awhile ago and I've been dying to watch it again, and with a little sleuthing I found it.

Fucking hilarious. There are some weird web ads on the top but scroll down and it should start.

I think one of the fucking brilliant parts is actually watching the actor's expressions when they are saying them - ranging to slightly embarassed to ebullient.

Zach Braff bugs lately, though I did used to have a might crush on him, but he's one of the best. As is Rachel Bilson's reaction.

Anyway, Fuck is my favourite swear word. Just for the record. Though I do love them all.

ETA: If that link doesn't work, I personally was having some problems using it again, I found it again on another person's blog...which? Totally makes me seem like I'm copying, but whatever.

rain man of queer entertainment.

Well.

I guess this shouldn't be a surprise.

I took a 'gay entertainment quiz' on planetout.com and this was what they wrote afterwards:

Wow -- you're the rain man of queer entertainment trivia! Either that, or you're
spending a little too much time studying that People magazine -- unless you're
getting ready to go on "Gay Jeopardy" or something.

Yeah.

Maybe they were right to send me 'Options.'

you fuck one goat...

I went to go check my mail yesterday; mostly looking forward to getting my Entertainment Weekly, when instead I have a junk mail and a letter from something called 'Options."

It turns out that 'Options' is a gay dating service. It's bad enough when I get letters in the mail being all, 'Single? Join us!' I remember when Stretch would get really upset when she would get those letters, and i would laugh because I hadn't received them yet.

You know it's bad when you're getting gay dating service propostions. You make one donation to HRC and all the gay solicitations come out of the woodwork.

But at least I have 'options,' right?

what's your count?

It's too hot, and I've been too tired to post anything of interest this week.

I'm still recovering from my visit to the city, and I can't shake the fatigue that I've had associated with the visit. Or it could be that I might be slightly sick, but trying not to succumb to that either. I choose to blame it on the heat right now.

Why again did our forefathers build on a swamp? Were they fucking crazy or stupid? I mean I realize it wasn't supposed to be inhabited by 'commoners,' but still.

One of the many fun things about an iTunes player is that it automatically creates a playlist with your most 25 played songs. This doesn't include songs that you skip. Only ones that are actually fully played. Along with the fact that you can always see the playcount of each song in your collection.

Clearly if you have a limited number of songs, your playcount for each should be high. Or if you like to listen to songs on repeat, like I do sometimes. It's interesting to look at the list though, to see what songs you have listened to the most, without inadvertently skipping them over.

My top played song? "Don't Panic," by Coldplay coming in way ahead of the game at 587 plays. Granted it's two and a half minutes long. Second is "In the Waiting Line" by Zero 7 at 451.

I have a hard time fathoming that I've listened to both of those songs so many times.

What's your #1 played song?

the smell of laundry turns me on.

Before you judge, let me explain.

Smell is my strongest sense. Seriously. It's as if I didn't have one of my five senses and so my sense of smell was heightened. I can recognize perfumes with people walking by, often when others wouldn't even notice the perfume or cologne. Earlier this week as I was asking my boss about my time off to go to visit my mom, I noticed she was wearing a new scent, and asked if it was "Chance" by Chanel. She didn't know because it was a sample, and so went looking. It was one of those moments, where I was like, um, I was asking and now it's weird because you're digging through your gym bag. Turns out I was right. She was duly impressed. I was duly embarassed for inadvertently making it this huge thing.

My heightened olfactory sensitivity is most likely the reason why I am so obsessed with perfumes, and yes, I know. I sometimes will spray too much in the beginning, but it's fine by the time I get to work or wherever I am. I mean it's the reason I get compliments on how I smell, right? Just as I do when I'm not wearing a watch, I feel naked without perfume on. One time in college we were all going out to dinner and someone forgot something, as I realized I forgot to spray perfume, or we were looping around or something, but I remember that I made my friend pull over so I could run back in the dorm and spritz on perfume. My friend was nice enough to indulge me, but I know she thought I was crazy and slightly annoyed. I didn't care, I just felt better when I put it on.

When I find a scent of something that I really, really like I can't get enough of it. I'll practically shove my face in it and take massive sniffs. I went on a trip for my rehearsal dinner outfit with annoying girl and she made me stop by Neiman's to see about getting her Reef's for the summer. I realized that I hadn't sprayed perfume and so I was trying to find a scent to quickly spritz on. The sales people were overzealous. Neiman's. And so I grabbed the nearest bottle, did a quick check to make sure it wasn't obnoxious and sprayed it on. I found out like 30 minutes later as we were in the car how much I loved the scent. I kept on putting my wrist up to my nose and taking a deep whiff. I went home and looked online at Neiman's for like 2 hours, because I at least remembered the shape of the bottle. I thought I may have found it, but was all, I should definitely go to Neiman's and make sure. I made it back a few weeks later with CBF and the we were unable to find the correct bottle or scent. I was crushed.

The scent of Aqua di Gio for men drives me wild. I would crush a teddy bear if it was wearing the scent. I've found guys more attractive just for wearing it. I mean, people I wouldn't necessarily find attractive at all. Just because they're wearing it. Sometimes I will smell the trail of it in my hallway or of the person in front of me. I know, my olfactory skillz are freakishly strong.

So as I was on my way to Giant on Sunday to pick up my bus pass, I could smell the laundry along the route. Sunday being the natural laundry day, and apartments cluttering my walk to Giant. The wind being expelled by the dryers was fucking awesome. I mean it's clearly mostly softener that makes that smell, but I love it. I kept on taking big whiffs, and being all, man that fucking smells good. Cologne is a big turn on, but if they smelled like fresh laundry that would also for me be a big turn on. As a side note though, I think actually doing laundry is a total pain in the ass and hate doing it. I believe I would feel differently if I had laundry in my apartment rather than traipsing up and down two flights of stairs and down a long hallway. I always love briefly shoving my face in the pile of clothes that come out my laundry bag, that are still warm, and taking a big whiff.

I know. It's fucking bizarre.

Just on Monday, the day after I was walking along the street and having the realization that this fresh laundry smell kind of turns me on, in a reaction way of, "God this smells good," and let's take another whiff, two of my internship co-workers randomly brought up laundry. We all agreed that we didn't like to do it, but the other two were all, "It's my most hated chore!" One going on to say that she will do all the chores such as dishes and whatnot so that her partner would do the laundry. I was like, "Fuck no! Are you crazy?! Dishes and everything else is so much worse!" Well, I actually just said, "Really?" But that's because I want to keep my internship.

Fast-forward to today and I'm in CVS going to choose out new shoe inserts for my sneakers. Cheap-ass Diesel sneakers where the inserts came out promptly upon purchasing them. Okay, like 2 weeks. But. Still. And I've had the same inserts since then, which was like ages ago. It's the first time I've worn them this season, and felt it was time to get new ones. So yes. I'm gellin'. Thanks, Dr. Scholl. Anyway, so I'm swinging around and down another aisle when I stop in my tracks because I smell that awesome smell of fresh laundry slash dryer sheets. I pause briefly by the boxes and take another brief smell and am about to walk on, when I'm all, should I buy this brand considering I really enjoy it? More seemingly than others? Plus, it's CVS brand and it's a buy one get one free. I start to walk away, because really. I have both liquid softener and dryer sheets at home. But then, I start to backpedal. Maybe I can leave them in my office, leaving it smelling good? And really, can you beat a buy one, get one free? Come on Karen. Just get it.

I'm now sitting here with two boxes of CVS fabric softener, and they smell pretty good.

I know. I'm fucking strange.

not quite the same, but it'll do.

Last night my holy blueberry coffee finally arrived. I was ecstatic, especially since if it did not arrive yesterday I would have been pissed because of the inefficiency of the Green Mountain site and not recording my shipping change.

So of course the first thing I did was bust open one of the bags to get a whiff. And that sniff smelled fabulous! I wanted to make a cup right then and there, but restrained myself so that I could actually, you know, sleep.

I decided that I should prepare the coffeemaker though, so that all I would have to do was turn it on in the morning, because I am such an awful morning person and am always waking up later than I should.

The result was that my apartment smelled vaguely of a blueberry and coffee mixture, which was delightful, and especially delightful to wake-up to. So I amazed myself in turning on the coffee and then hitting the snooze. Pat on the back for that fortitude.

So I made an iced version of the coffee this morning, and it was rather tasty. Still strong despite the ice, it's like I naturally make sludge or something. The only thing that would have made it fabulous though would be a tidge of milk. Then it would have been just like Breuggers. Well. Except for without the straw. Or the really tall glass. Or the plentiful ice that doesn't automatically melt away when you pour the coffee in.

Otherwise though? Totally the same experience.

Awesome! This is so going to come in handy when the semester begins again.

finally getting my hair done.

Since moving to the DC area, I have yet to find a place where I am happy with both the hair cut and the actual highlights as well.

I mean, scratch that. I can't find a place where I have enjoyed the hair cut or highlights, even if in different locations. The other main problem is the price of either, or both.

The first time I finally ponied up and said I needed to go to the hair salon because my hair was looking like shit and needed a cut, I went to the place downstairs from where I work. From recommendations from those I worked with.

It did not turn out well.

Granted at the time I was dying my hair a reddish-brown color, and I had waited too long and the roots and the hair...It was B.A.D. I mean my roots looked orangish. And were a different color than the rest of my hair.

And? It cost like 80 bucks. It could have been more. I can't remember that far back anymore.

Afterwards, I decided that it would be best to have reddish highlights instead of subjecting my entire crown and hair to the damage of multiple dyings. Because that first time? They tried to dye it like twice to make it a solid color, and it killed my hair.

So I decide not to go to the "euro" place which was cheaper, though no Europeans worked there, and went to a salon chain next door to this one. Which was also recommended. It was fine. The cut was fine. The highlights were a bit 'meh.' I couldn't really tell that they even put highlights in. The most unfortunate part was that with tipping, of 3! people, I paid something like $130.

I don't fucking think so.

Since I wasn't blown away, I refuse to pay that much money now.

The only service I was totally happy with was this eyebrow guy at the salon across the street from where I work. Yeah, I don't know why we're completely flooded with salons. This guy was amazing, and really took care and time. I was jonesing to go again awhile back and it seems that he left. I was devastated, especially since I don't know where he is now in this big bad city.

The only person who I have been consistently happy with at all times, and I do mean throughout my life including high school is this woman who cuts my mother's hair. She's fucking awesome. Whenever she cuts my hair, and either highlights and lowlights...I mean the woman introduced me to lowlights, or whatever I may ask her to do, people will compliment me on it. I don't know why she has the magic touch with my hair, but I have never been satisfied as I have been with her. She's got the touch. Even better? For a cut and highlights? $70. Awesome!

I do have to admit, I have been happy with Mrs. home-town hair-cutter. She trimmed my hair over Easter and it was a good cut. But she's also a drunk. Which we, meaning Mrs. and her entire family who have her do their hair all the time too, know. I mean the woman has bought us shots of Kamikaze before at the local bar when we've been out. Mrs.' mom says that she's been drunk and cut her hair before. She's missed appointments before because of hang-overs. I mean the stories about her are hilarious. But. They still continue to see her because she's an awesome hair-dresser. Though one time, and I swear she must have been drunks, she put the wrong hair-dye color in the bowl and Mrs. hair turned out his purple color.

Purple.

Mrs. was less than enthused if you can imagine. So they then had to strip her hair, which totally kills your hair of course and re-do the entire thing. Mrs. still wasn't totally happy with the color but at least it wasn't purple.

My hair wouldn't be able to stand a stripping, so I'm never going to let her try to color my hair.

Earlier this summer I started to think about how busy it was going to be with internship and work, and really how I needed to get my hair done again. Plus? Really need to see the chiropractor and I wanted a massage. This of course meant, hmm...I should see about going to visit my mother. I know. It's kind of awful, but I do want to see her as well.

I made my ticket on Monday.

My mom called this morning to tell me that she made my hair appointment finally. On the 18th at 1pm.

As soon as I made the ticket I was heckling her to make the appointment for me. I know. Awful.

Essentially?

I'm travelling 3,000 miles to get a hair-cut and highlights.

blueberry update.

A regular reader of this blog would believe that I'm obsessed with blueberry coffee. They wouldn't be that off either.

I was talking with Mrs. B. on the phone the other day; expounding on the virtues and tastes of blueberry coffee. Much as I first heard of blueberry coffee from Stretch, she was skeptical. I assured her that it was indeed really tasty and she should totally try it, especially since she has tons of DD's in Atlanta.

Fast-forward a few days and she M.B. calls me at work, while she's driving her car in for a check-up. It seems that she tried the blueberry coffee at DD's and it was pretty gross. I believed the words she used were, 'sickeningly sweet' and that it was just bad coffee. I do have to say that I was momentarily shocked that she even tried it because she usually doesn't listen to what I have to say if she has a firm opinion on something, and she pretty much thought the idea was gross. I asked if it was a flavour shot, which she confirmed, and I said was most likely the root of her problem. I told her that she should head towards the closest Bruegger's Bagel and try it there because it was brewed rather than with flavour.

Rule: In any case, actual brewed flavoured coffee is better than a shot of flavour. Even at DD's, which kind of pains me to say.

So I was regaling Stretch with this story last night and she was all, maybe you could buy the coffee from Bruegger's site because it is Green Moutain Coffee. Now, Stretch knowing this must mean that she frequents it really often. Or she's just a little crazy. Or. You know. A mixture of both.

Bruegger's doesn't sell coffee off their website, but Green Mountain Coffee does. And they have the Wild Blueberry flavoured one.

I now have two bags of Blueberry Coffee en route to my apartment. Okay. They'll be en route Monday, but still. WOOOOT!!!

It might not be as good as the stuff made at Bruegger's, but it must be somewhat akin, because I know how incompetent those people were at the one in PA.

The Blueberry Crisis has seemingly been resolved. And if my coffee doesn't arrive by this weekend, which it fucking should, and if it doesn't I'll be pissed, at least I can hit DD's in the city. CBF promised that we would stop by this time. Gotta try this too sweet coffee.

this one's for stretch.

It seems that one my regular reads is pimping for RIF today.

Not only, a mention, but an actual suggestion for a donation.

Could this be better than Jerry O'Connell playing (and losing early-on) for RIF in Celebrity Poker on Bravo?

I think it just might be.

kind of a dick.

In high school, one of my best friends transferred in, in the 11th grade. Up to that point she had lived all around the world, but had just spent a decent chunk in New Canaan, CT. Both Katherine Heigl and Jesse Bradford went to high school with her. She was friends with Jesse Bradford, who was no where near the 'famous' that Katherine Heigl was at the time, and aquaintances with Heigl.

From all accounts of what she said though, Jesse seemed like an okay guy. I mean the most he had really done at the point was play Balthazar in Leo's "Romeo + Juliet." Which was like, some decent background time, and like three lines. Seemingly from that movie though, the two, Leo and Jesse, became chummy. One time my friend was hanging out at Jesse's and picked up the phone. She asked who it was, and the person was all, "Leo DiCaprio." She was like, "I don't think so." And his response was pretty much, "Yes, yes, I am." So she uttered, "whatever," and hung up on him. Jesse informed her afterwards that it probably was him, and said she was sorry when Leo called back. She was mortified.

Due to this connection, I've always watched Bradford's tracks. Not necessarily watching all of his work, but, you know. Kind of watching what he was doing. He seems to be rather prominent this summer because of his work in two indie movies that I want to see, "Happy Endings" and "Heights." Both have gotten pretty lame reviews, but I've been wanting to see them for awhile, so I'll probably end up seeing both. Okay, so both have queer content to them and may be the reason why I want to see them and still will despite dismal reviews, but, whatever.

I've noticed though that Jesse's been seemingly becoming cockier over time. Plus he had some quote about playing gay that came off as being slightly homophobic, and a little obsessed with proving that he was playing gay. You know. So people would confuse him as being, uh-oh, gay. Whatever, jackass.

Then. He did this snippet interview with "People" and he's featured as one of their men of the summer. Sigh.

I'm assuming he's still not big enough to have a PR person present when answering questions, because I don't know if he would have said the same things he in fact did say.

What's it like owning a hot New York club?

It's good. I'm not really doing any of the day-to-day grunt work. It's more
just an investment opportunity, and a risky one at that. I just thought it would
be fun and interesting, and why the hell not?

Do you and co-owner Chris Noth (a.k.a. Sex and the City's Mr. Big) hang out
much?

We're acquaintances. He's good friends with my good friend (and business
partner) Noel Ashman, who's kind of the mastermind behind this whole thing.

Any memorable clubbing nights?

I got forcibly removed from Nyla (Britney Spears's onetime restaurant) in
New York back when it opened because a bouncer tried to start a fight with my
girlfriend at the time. It was ridiculous. Who picks a fight with a girl? A
pussy, that's who. I stepped in and put my hands on him and said, "What the f–
do you think you're doing?" And before I knew it, I was being escorted out by
three guys with my hand up over my head.

What about at NA?

I've had some fun there. I was there for New Year's this year. That was
great. Flava Flav performed, and then Fat Joe was just there hanging out, and he
decided to get up onstage and do a song too, which was completely
unsolicited. So that was awesome.

How's the celeb scene there?

Eliza Dushku (Bring It On) was there celebrating her birthday. We're
talking for a while, and five minutes into the conversation I'm like, "Do you
know I kind of own this place?" She's like, "What?" I don't remember what
happened after that – I was kind of drunk. I think I sent her a bottle of
champagne. It was a funny thing to be able to be like,
"By the way, do you need anything? Because I can get it."

crush.

Man, I loved that orange soda as a kid.

Actually? I loved all orange soda. I can remember whenever we would go to a fast food restaurant as a kid I would order orange soda. Unless we were going to am pm, but that's a whole different, woe is me the divorced child story.

I'm trying to stick to topics these days, rather than a total flight of ideas.

I accompanied Shortie to another art show in, gasp! Silver Spring, last night, where she had three pictures hanging. It's actually at this Cuban and Puerto Rican fusion restaurant that was part of a walking tour opening last night as well. Most of the people present were the artists and friends, and were eating and drinking. The waitress, well intentioned, and speaking pretty much no English whatsoever, was rather flustered by the crowd. And there weren't even that many people present.

Anyway. The food was taking forever, and at our end there was an artist with his bunch of friends so we decided to look at the other hangings. I mean it was the point of coming, right?

Overall, there were some good pieces. And some paintings I could have gone without. Shortie pointed out three pictures, next to hers, that I had noticed, as being the photographer who sold our friends a picture of a mushroom. On like, their first date. A picture. Of. A. Mushroom. Because it reminded our friend of Maine. He's weird. They're actually now engaged. They've been dating since the end of October. We move on.

His picture of floating tomatoes and a green pepper in water had caught my eye as soon as we came in. Though from afar, I thought the tomatoes were pumpkins or squash. What? What! I didn't have my glasses on. And it's been a bad crop year for tomatoes, and so they weren't all that red.

Anyway. This photographer comes in later, and as soon as I spot him, I'm all, "he's cute!" This, despite the fact that it was sweaty. But, it's summer, and DC. To be expected. He mentions pulling up a chair, and so I surreptiously attempt to scoot over so he'll sit in the chair next to mine.

Unfortunately my plans were thwarted when the kid who was sitting one chair over, removed his chair from the table and decided to sit in that chair. Fucking bastard.

But! When Shortie and I were looking at the art, this guy who had left and returned, and I later found out was fucking weird, sat down in Shortie's chair. I mean the guy came back from his art walk, and we're sitting at the table and he reaches over and takes this person's discarded Corona and ads water from a glass sitting next to it. Fucking, EW!!! I mean, it's not even your friend's beer or water, and you're drinking from them? And you're watering down Corona? Who the fuck are you? Plus his body language and interactions were just bizarre.

His moving to our seat though was a fortuitous chance forcing us to sit somewhere else at the table. I made sure we sat down next to Cute Photographer.

Not only was he cute, but he was really nice and kind of funny. I know I find him cute because he reminds me of Anthony Clark in "Boston Common" era, which I loved for some reason. The theme song fucking rocked too. And I'm not even that sure why I enjoyed the show so much, but I do know that I thought Anthony Clark was adorable. I tried to find the TV Guide cover of him when the show first debuted, but they don't have it archived, and there no rabid fans out there of him or the show, so...yeah.

Anyway, CP is adorable and really nice, and talented, and northern, and some-fucking-how lives with a CC alum now. What type of small fucking world is this people? Other plus? Pretty sure he's not gay.

So, of course, have partially spent the morning trying to semi-stalk him. I sent Shortie an email concerning CP and my feelings.

Her response?

"It's amazing how you can be funny and scary at the same time."

To be fair, this is what I wrote:

From: me [mailto:me@whereiwork.com]
Sent: Wednesday, July 13, 2005 11:47 AM
To: shortie@someplace.org
Subject: RE: once every few weeks...

Okay, I do not even know why I think he’s so cute. There’s a picture of him taking a picture, and I was like, aw, how cute.

We’re going to have to stalk him [Shortie]. Stalk, I say, STALK!

I wonder where he frequents? We know about the [popular after work hobby]…

It looks like I have my summer crush! Maybe he'll be as tasty as the soda.

I know. I know.

Dirty!

about the size of a stick of butter.

Everyone was atwitter with excitement concerning the birth of a panda bear at the DC zoo. The zoo has been trying for years to get the Mei Xing pregnant. Along with some failed attempts, there were the deaths of the panda bear babies before 3 months. I mean there was even a pregnancy watch last year, that just turned out to be a fluke.

In fact, they didn't even know if Mei Xing, who is on loan to the zoo, was pregnant or not until she gave birth.

The DC Zoo is now being cautious and not interfering with mother and child, seeing as on the three previous occassions the babies died. Though, supposedly Mei Xing is showing signs of being an exemplary mother. Good for her! Hee.

All this discussion is so funny, but the funniest part was the constant description of what a baby panda looks like. That it is small, and bare, and about the size of a stick of butter. Which, as DCist said, ew.

Due to the hands off-ness, and that camera looking into Mei Xing's area where you can't see jack shit, it's a little difficult to picture. So imagine my joy when I stumbled upon baby pictures of two panda bears.

Fucking adorable, huh? Hard to picture them being big ol' bears. Another interesting fact was that China, because the panda's are on loan, I assume, get to name the baby bear. Hope it's something interesting.

In sad, related news, Mei Mei, 36, and the oldest living panda bear, died in a zoo in China on Tuesday.

finally figuring out how to toast.

Since I've started working in the real world, approximately finishing up my third year [fuck that's scary], I've probably brought lunch in 10% of those work days.

I'm have the atrocious habit of just going out and picking something up for lunch. I mean I have a multitude of reasons, but the biggest would have to be my constant habit of rolling out of bed late and running to work. I refuse to make my lunch the night before; it brings back too many memories of lunches in middle school and high school and the sandwhich gets all soggy and nasty tasting.

I've gone through spurts of bring my lunch, but a spurt is the furthest it's gone. Bringing my lunch in is now a necessity with my internship schedule because I don't have time to pick up anything at all for lunch, and I'm working from 7:30 to at least 6:30 non-stop. This means I need some sort of food.

So, I've been rather diligently bringing my lunch in. And also? Toasting my sandwhich to make it more interesting. I realized my favourite sandwhiches from the shop are always toasted or grilled. Warm equals interesting.

The problem I've suffered from so far is that I haven't been able to quite figure out how to make the perfectly toasted sandwhich. The first few times in the toaster over the top slice was approximately charred to a crisp whilst the lower slice was brown. Then I just started burning them left and right. Not that this would normally be an issue, but this meant that the inside of my mouth was getting ripped up by the bread. Not Good.

Then I started watching it carefully. The problem was that the bread was pretty decent, but the inside wasn't getting warm and the slice of cheese wasn't being melted. So, not really warm, therefore, not interesting.

I discovered yesterday that if I split the sandwhich in half and toast them open-faced it creates a magical, perfect sandwhich. Something I would potentially pay money for. Other than what I've already paid of course.

Maybe I'll actually enjoy bringing my lunch now.

Well. That might be a stretch, but it'll make these summer months easier to live by.

this might be why i love london so much.

First off. There is still an apb on blueberry coffee. I've started to realize though that this may be a fruitless, no pun intended, apb.

So, you know. We move on.

I was reading my 'ists' for the day, and was excited to see there is one about Paris! Woot! And it's in French, so I can practice reading that on a daily basis. Philly was added too, as was Shangai. I was actually wondering when a Pennsylvania one was going to be added.

I digress though. Londonist had a post about the reactions to the bombings, that kind of describes why I love London and Brits, and pretty much Europeans in general. They aren't trying to sap the awful tragedy for a 7/7 event, as their '9/11' if you will, and were pretty much like, you know what? The IRA has done a better job in the past, so if you want, just buy me a beer.

I don't paraphrase really well, but it's this resolve and fuck you to being intimidated or to an emotional leeching of the awful tragedy.

I'll buy a round.

apb on blueberry coffee.

Okay.

So Stretch called one day. Okay, so she calls every day, but one day I actually talked to her and she mentioned that DD's (Dunkin' Donuts to the unhip and uninformed out there) had new summer flavours that included Blueberry and Coconut.

One thing Stretch and I have always shared is our willingess, almost stupidity, of wanting to throw ourselves out there in the world of trying potentially dodgy foods. Or just eating a mixture of food that is good, but eaten at the same time is questionable. Or just eating questionable amounts of food at a time.

So we pow-wowed and essentially were all, blueberry sounds scary. But. Good scary. Stretch reported back that the first time she tried it, she couldn't really tell, and the second time it was pretty tasty.

When I went to go visit CBF in the city I was like, we totally have to hit DD's (because the DD's here is not even a 'full' one, so who knows if they'll have the flavour and it's too fucking humid to walk 10 blocks out of the way on the way to work) and I want to try the blueberry.

The weekend was a blur and it didn't happen.

My sister and I went to get brunch at Bruegger's, because really? I'm that cheap, well I should say we, because she's po' poor. And with my breakfast bagel you can add coffee for cheap. Due to the heat I asked if I could make it iced, which I could, so: Awesome! The untalented boy who was helping me, asked what flavour and as soon as he said blueberry, I chose it.

It was: Fucking. Awesome!

I tried to go again Sunday, but apparently it's closed in this little steel town on a Sunday. Boo! So then I did an internet search to see if there was a DD's. It had 1. Which? A travesty. Even more of a travesty? I called and asked the guy how late they were open, and he was like, we're closed. If you're closed motherfucker, don't pick up the phone. This pisses me off the most when trying to order pizza after a night of drinking. Fuck you Pizza Hut worker. Let the machine pick up without giving me momentary hope.

Now. There is no Bruegger's in the 'tri-state' area of here if you will. So now?

I'm obsessed with blueberry coffee. I'm on a hunt. I'd be eternally grateful if someone could point out a coffee place in the DC area that sells blueberry flavoured coffee.

Help my coffee obsession!

i scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!

That chant, during the summer, is something that I'm sure drove my parents crazy. Whenever my sister and I agreed that we really, really wanted ice cream, we would bust out with the traditional chant. Starting out quiet and then getting really loud. Read: fucking obnoxious. It was probably the few times where my sister and I would agree on anything because we fought like little bitches when we were young. Read: until we both bonded over the fact that we were covertly smoking in high school. (She got busted, because she's stupid. Twice, mind you. On two different continents. She's not smooth). And even then, we still fought. The chant would work about 50/50, but we continued as it did sometimes work.

It's summer, and so it's okay to eat ice cream again. Or more to the point, it's a topic of conversation and something that you're craving, rather than the other months of the year where it's like one degree centigrade and you're just trying to stay warm waiting for the bus. Ice cream doesn't really call out then. Which is a problem that I wonder how ice cream shops, that aren't chains, are able to stay open and if not thrive, be successful.

Yesterday was the 4th, and was a lot better than I thought it would be. The party was being hosted in Virginia, I know. It's so easy to be a DC snob. I think it's somewhat akin to the people in New York who are all, I don't go to Brooklyn, looking as if someone just shot a loogie into their mouth.

Anyway. Shortie and I made the bold move of going to Virginia to CBF's girlfriend's apartment for some pre-party fun. I made the best guacamole ever, because it's what I do, and so we gorged ourselves on that, plus potato chips and ranch and watermelon.

The best part though, was the Smoke & Fire drinking game, that was invented at CC, and we embellished upon yesterday. Simple rules.

Pack of cards.
Shot glasses.
Pitcher of beer.

Take a pack and you have to say whether you think it will be Smoke (black) or Fire (red). If you're wrong, you have to take a shot of beer. At this point you can double up, and if you guess the second card correctly you are safe. If not? Double shot of beer. If you get a joker, you get to make a person take a half shot of vodka.

For some reason, this game, in all of it's stupid simplicity was a fucking blast.

Toward's firework time, we headed to a co-worker of CBF's girlfriend's apartment. Where we were under the assumption that there was going to be a party. What do your parent's say? Ass out of u and me? Yeah.

This chick's parents, brother and sister-in-law were there. Along with another special co-worker. Actually the entire thing was special. To boot there wasn't really alcohol, and it was just turing out lame-o. But then I listened as Shortie and CBF's GF were debating the best ice cream. CBF GF was mentioning how Cold Stone Creamery wasn't the best, she had just been cheating on Max of late. Where I jumped in, agreeing that Max was the best ice cream place in the world. Because not only is Max's awesomely delicious, you also get Max who is quite the character. Shortie, who will never admit that something is better outside of DC, as in, yeah that's okay, but I'd get [insert critical word here] of it, said there was this other ice cream place that was better. What? Seriously? She even said CBF would agree.

CBF said that Max's was indeed the better ice cream establishment. It really was worth the 10 minute plus conversation, especially considering the occasion.

Why, might you ask, did I relay this conversation? Because everyone should be having ice cream this summer, and it seems LAist did a review of an ice cream store today, and really, what a timely post.

And now I want some Max's ice cream.

flight of ideas.

Psychology professors always tell the same anecdote, while studying each of the different diseases, you will think that you can be diagnosed with said disease. That you'll experience, an "Ooooh. I have that. I experience that. I must totally have X disorder." That, and: "Wait until you get home and tell people you're studying psychology. People will ask you if you're diagnosing them right now." The second is much more popular.

And it never happened to me.

As a psychology major in undergrad, I really did study up on the different mental disorders, especially the extreme ones since I had a strong interest in severe mental disorders. I was taking an Abnormal Psych class at Berkeley one of my summers, because I enjoyed psych that much, and was deep into minutae of the extreme disorders.

When I was studying schizophrenia and it's many forms, one of the clear symptoms is flight of ideas. Where your mind races and thoughts aren't cohesive and just jump about without any linear fashion or form. For some reason I was like, "Wow. I totally have that. Where my mind will just jump all around and not necessarily make sense when jumping to a new thought." I was convinced this was an early sign of schizophrenia and that in a year or two I would have full-blown schizophrenia. So far I've managed to pass through the peak years for 'outbreak' if you will, though I'm not going to rule that out yet.

I didn't realize that I think often people really do have flight of ideas. And that was I was talking about wasn't really flight of ideas. It did make me feel better though when watcing a Wanda Sykes stand-up, who fucking rocks by the way, and she discussed not being able to fall asleep and the flight of ideas that keep you up from falling back asleep. The routine was hilarious, with her thoughts at one point touching upon whether she had her high school yearbook still, and where in the hell would it be? And I finally was like, oh, it's not just me! Awesome. This stupid thing keeps other people up at night too.

Today on Huffington Post Larry David, yes that Larry David, posts about a recent flight of ideas night where he is trying to fall asleep, and how the scary Republicans are keeping him awake. It's pretty funny, including this little snippet during one part to give you a taste:

"You’re giving him what he wants! If he keeps us all up, we’ll be too tired to
fight them. That’s their strategy, and you’re playing right into their hands. We
have to start keeping them up. But how? The only things that bothers them enough
to keep them up are fetuses. They love that fetus. The fetus and Jesus. Sounds
like a comedy team. “Ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to Fetus and
Jesus…”

You'll have to read the post to find out about who he is talking about.

Oh, and a song I've recently discovered that takes a few listen's to appreciate is Elected's "Greetings in Braille." Which is thankfully available for free download at the website. Their other songs are pretty awesome too, but I adore "Greetings in Braille."

funny funny funny.

So another fun site that I like to read, only when I have time, of course, is Gawker. The entire slew of Gawker Media sites are actually really funny and rather scathing. Which is of course, what makes them funny.

Lindsay Lohan has become a walking train wreck. I mean, I still remember last summer, or was it two summers ago, that she was making her comeback with "Freaky Friday" and turned in a rather winsome performance. Golden Girls trivia: the guy who played her grandfather in that movie was in fact Harold Gould, the actor who played Rose's boyfriend Miles for a few years. And in the first season played the character who Rose has sex with for the first time since her husband died. The show runners at GG didn't seem to care about casting actors in multiple guest roles, or about keeping the same actors to play the same guest characters. It can get a little annoying when it comes to the children of the women, but I digress.

Lindsay was cute and adorable in that movie. Then she did "Mean Girls" and it essentially all blew up. I was rooting for her, if not just because I wanted her to outshine Hilary Duff (Duff hatred still present) and the two for that brief period of time were duking it out for the same roles and spots. "Mean Girls" was awesome, and Lindsay proved that unlike Hilary Duff she could act. And pick a good movie. I mean are you paying your parents' mortgages or something Hilary? Did you actually read the script for "The Perfect Man," or essentially let's insert in that space any movie you've been in?

At the same time, and I believe Lindsay fully embraced it, she became sexualized and everyone wanted to know if her boobs were in fact real, and was she dating Wilmer blah, blah, blah. Because let's face it, she had grown into a real hottie.

Then I believe the 'alleged' cocaína along with not eating, wait, I'm sorry, scratch that. Her new eating healthy lifestyle and working out, made her lose her hot bod, boobs (finally proves they were real) and a very good imitator of Skeletor. Along with some fucking alleged role where she had to dye her hair blonde, so they bleached it out, killing the luster, and made it look like shit. This was something she once said in an interview that she would never do. Too bad she lied. Lindsay? If there is any way you're listening: eat something and keep it down, and get rid of the blonde. You look awful, and I don't even believe that it's for a role because you haven't been filming anything.

So, despite the fact that she's really only a shadow of who she was, she's not dead to me yet. Can't quite explain why, but that doesn't mean I won't make fun of her, or enjoy people making fun of her. Yesterday Gawker did an awesome job of it too, with pictures and captioning of Linsday visiting the today show.

Laughter in the morning does amazing things for the day. Bless you Gawker!

no longer dead to me.

It seems that whenever any power, and popular celebrity couple divorces slash breaks-up, people choose sides. And clearly, by people, I mean: me.

For reasons unfathomable to me now, I was shocked and somewhat saddened when Tom and Nicole first announced their divorce. Clearly, this was because she was breaking free from the mental craziness that is Tom Cruise, though there is always speculation. I mean he always would just say in interviews that, she knew why they were breaking up. And it was somewhat suspect that when she suffered from a miscarriage almost right afterwards that he showed no remorse. Was it not his baby? Could she have had an affair? Was he the one that the affair with Penelope Cruz? And I thought at the time that they had an ick factor. Plus I totally believed that he had had an affair.

Why was I concerned? Well they were a rather popular couple, and I mean, I loved Top Gun, and was otherwise a general fan of the Tom. Which again? Has me completely flummoxed now. I remember playing dodgeball during recess and discussing his divorce with Mimi back in the day, and all of us were psyched...because of course when you're 8 he's going to be available for you to date him. I even remember my sister's friend Rhonda being especially excited about his divorce. Because yes, at 11, he's going to marry you!

My sister has always expressed wonder at this phenomenon where people become upset when their celebrity crushes, or for some people obsessions, are dating or married to someone, and excited when their relationships eventually hit the skids. "Right. Because if they're single, you're going to get the opportunity to date them. You're weird." I guess I left out the 'karen' at the end of the last sentence, but I mean really. Did Jake really have to start dating Kirsten again? I mean there are no snowstorms going on in my nostrils, and we'd be like, totally great together. Call me!

I digress. Anyway, I ended up siding with Nicole. It could be because I'm the only person in America who didn't really enjoy "Jerry McGuire" all that much, and thought Renee was fucking annoying. Cute and bubbly in "Empire Records," which is a fucking awesome movie, but annoying and whiny in every. Single. Fucking. Movie. Since. Take back the Oscar people. Plus? Nicole was awesome in "The Others," which came out shortly post-ruined marriage, and it was also pre-Botox. Then of course came "Moulin Rouge" which again, great movie. She was charming and wonderful, and I'm sitting there rooting her on and hoping that she continues to be successful and we can all say, "Look what you're missing Tom."

Then came the Botox age. And the super super skinny stage. I mean she didn't really look like a human anymore. You would see pictures and her forehead would be all shiny and would bounce the reflection of the camera flashes back, all "Kap-ow! Just try taking a picture of me you paparazzi bitches!" It was a sad stage. I mean part of acting is showing emotion, and when there's nothing going on above the eyebrows it's a little difficult to emote. And the fact that she looked like a midget could take her down with one hand behind their back because she hadn't seen a carbohydrate in months...

It probably would have been better if this was reserved to the red-carpet, but even she looked like a robot in the previews for the awful idea of a remake in the "Stepford Wives," which I thankfully did not see.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she's such a perfectionist method actor that she wanted to become a robot for her role, and she was just having a hard time letting it go. It certianly would be an explanation.

To recap: Dead to me.

An amazing thing happened though. This morning, and it might be because I woke up at 6 for my new summer schedule (do people really wake-up this early? And why would they ever want to? It's not sane. There should be a law.) and I was giddy with fatigue, but when I went to go check for the free song of the week at the iTunes store I saw that Nicole Kidman had a celebrity playlist.

Now I'm not a huge fan of the celebrity playlists. I think sometimes people are choosing songs that they think might make people think they are cool. Yes, Mischa Barton I'm looking at you. Did you raid your castmates CD collections in their trailers and then ask your publicist what would be best? I highly doubt that you listen to the fucking Shins. I just won't believe it. Sometimes the comments for each song are really rather stupid too. It is somewhat interesting to see what some playlists are, but I think for "Entertaiment Weekly" to put it down as a "must" is providing it with too much credit.

So, I was curious and decided to check it out. The songs are a pretty awesome mix; especially when she's not choosing 'trendy' or possibly pretentious picks to make her look cool. The comments make her seem winning and charming again. Plus? She lets her daughter choose the last four songs, and make the comments which is even more adorable.

I think this list combined with my grudging actual enthusiasm about "Bewitched," the promos make the awful premise look cute and fun, which is freaking me out, has Nicole Kidman back on my 'good' list.

Until of course I see her in another period piece, with her forehead shining back at me saying, "That's right. I'm going going to use my shininess to emote, and distract you that I can't actually move. I should get second billing!"

Song of the day? And really, I feel I should be more cautious considering the uproar of the "Fight for Your Right Cover." I still say I enjoy it. But the song that has already repeated a few times today on my iTunes is Jon Brion's "Knock Yourself Out." I initially fell in love with it when I heard it during the trailer for "I Heart Huckabees"and immediately wanted to know what it was. Didn't find out until much later, but I still love it.

is sharing really that bad?

So I've been trying to put a password to my wireless, because I figure if I'm paying premium and essentially something that I can't afford, others shouldn't reap the benefits.

The other week I noticed that I had another iTunes user on my iTunes. I was curious so I looked at the songs and realized that said user went to my college. Which.

Kind of creepy.

That makes 3 alums from college, including me, living in the building at the moment. If she hadn't just graduated and had been living here last year, there would have been 5 of us. Which.

Small world.

After asking my fellow tech guy at work if seeing her pop up on my iTunes meant she was using my wireless, AND slowing it down. He confirmed my suspicions and I figured if everyone else in the building has it password protected, so should I.

I've been unsuccessful as of yet.

Okay. So I haven't actually called Verizon's customer service yet, and I only tried to figure it out for 10 minutes. But really. It should be easier than that.

So the first perusal of fellow alum, showed cheesy music including 98 degrees and of course our college a cappella groups. Upon closer perusal (I guess it counts as procrastination from preparing for the internship tomorrow. I really am a master) I realized that mixed with some atrocious songs (Hanson? Les Mis Soundtrack? Jessica Simpson? Really???) there are some serious jems. Especially some songs that I've been thinking about buying. Sweet!

There is a silver lining to her using my free wireless for the moment. Though she best get ready for when I organize myself and actually put a password in.