*sigh*

Well. I spent the weekend drinking, eating brownies, and searching for obscenities obscene enough to say what I wanted to. I couldn't find any, and was so sick yesterday I had to stay home from classes. Heh.




Sooo, Oscars. Really long. REALLY long. Started out with half a glass of sangria and by the time they got to best supporting actor it was like, "Eh, might as well finish off the jug..." (just so you don't call the police, the jug was totally almost gone when I started.) I liked Ellen, but I liked Jon Stewart talking about Ellen more.


I called all the major ones, except for best supporting actor, and I was thrilled that Alan Arkin won instead of Eddie Murphy who bugs me and was sleeping with a Spice Girl eww.


Really wanted Little Miss Sunshine to win, though. *tear*

Week of The Bunch O'Midterms commenced today, and got JMC and art history out of the way. I totally blanked on two of the JMC questions, but I'm pretty good at BS, so I think I'll be fine. And art history was amazingly easy except there is no way you can compare and contrast Giotto's Madonna Enthroned and Raphael's Madonna of the Meadow in ten minutes and say everything you needed to. Not going to happen. But hopefully the TA's will have figured that out.

Next up: Class of the Damned History, which promises to be a rip-roaring good time because who doesn't love geography and 20 essay questions on the Crusades? I know I do.

Logic and astronomy (oh shit I'd better not fail again) finish up on Monday. Ugh. Stress.

Not looking forward to tomorrow, though, because I have to go have a meeting with my TA about my paper. What. No. I take rejection much better when you just hand me a badly graded paper and don't say anything about it. I don't need five minutes of face time with you giving me ways to improve.

(ETA: I just read that, and it made it sound like I failed individually and needed to go in. Not true, I'm sure I did fine, each person in the class has to meet with the guy. I'm not especially stupid.:P)

Oh good Lord. could we not have let this die with The Da Vinci Code? I'm sensing a whole crapload of "You're not going to go see that, are you?" conversations with my grandfather...

Well, all, I'm going to go try to distinguish between the three rivers in Spain. See y'all later.

Witness the death of my last shred of sanity.

Okay, blog kitties. I am updating, just because it is Oscar Sunday and if I don't I'll feel like a bad blogger. Just a few ground rules.

1.) God hates me. Do not try to tell me differently, and do not say that I'm being blasphemous and it is your job to tell me because of some spiritual work of mercy. I will chuck something at you.

2.) Do not tell me this happened for a reason. I will chuck something at you.

3.) I am in NO MOOD. Do not annoy me, or I will chuck something at you.

Sooo, we've learned two valuable lessons from this whole little thing: meteorologists are always wrong and should be treated as such, and alcohol really does solve your problems.

Sooo, Oscars. Are tonight. And I'm looking for any excuse to get blitzed and eat my weight in junk food, so---YAY!!! I was feeling kind of badly about drinking alone, what with Colleen being all legally high and Daddy being all Protestant for Lent. Yeah. No more.


The actual awards? I think The Departed will win for best picure (*tear* for the the death of Little Miss Sunshine's chances), Helen Mirren and Forest Whitaker for best actor/actress, and Jennifer Hudson and Eddie Murphy for best supporting actor/actress. And I really do think that Martin Scorsese will win best director, maybe just out of pity. Clint Eastwood could get it, but I doubt it. As ecumenical as we all try to be, nobody really wants to be on the Japanese side in WWII.


Watched The Prestige last night. Good movie. Love movies about magic. They are Teh Awesomeness.

Mmkay, I'm gonna go try to get rid of this headache and mapquest Providence shut up I'm not crazy so I'll write more after the show. Ciao.

A chronicle of my inappropriate relationship with my washing machine.

This is my new washing machine. I love it. Possibly more than one should love a machine, and definately more than I love anything or anyone else in the house.


I don't even care that it's huge and incovenient and kind of maybe almost didn't allow us to close the bathroom door again ever---it is my beloved and I would have it's babies.

But an advantage to it being huge and inconvenient? The drum is way bigger, and the towels that would have taken me two loads only take one now. Woot woot. Also, there's a little time remaining thingy that I am infinately amused by. Ooh, and a light inside the dryer so when you open it it's all white and bright. Oooh. So pretty.

All hail the machine that brings me clean sheets. Whee!!!

Spent the entire morning listening to every single professor say "OMG MIDTERM COMING DROP NOW OR PROCEDE AT YOUR OWN PERIL OMG", which was not terribly comforting. Although I did start to laugh in art history when the TA was talking about the Last Supper and said, "Okay. And because of that stupid book by Dan Brown now I have to talk about the figure on the left. That is John the Evangelist. It is not Mary Magdalene. If you say it's Mary Magdalene on the exam, I will mark you wrong for being so stupid. I don't care that you saw the damn movie, it's all fake."

Teehee.

So between art history and The Class of the Damned, I've been thinking of nothing more recent that 1400 within the last two weeks. And frankly it's starting to get to me. Just FYI, if you're ever looking for a fun way to kill an afternoon, reading prmiary sources from 1250 is not an option. Just no.

Although my favorite one? Where the bishop is doing his rounds and finds two monks doing it. Oh yeah. Gotta love that shit.

Bought The Prestige on DVD today, and completed my Hot Guys Who Can Also Do Tricks No Not Like That You Perv set. *is happy*

Unfortunately, the Empress is detained at her place of business tonight and we cannot watch it, alas. But perhaps it's for the best- those styrofoam balls and windchimes aren't going to sell themselves.

Seriously running out of space on my DVD shelf, though. I need to expand.

Is it wrong that I hate Amy a lot? Shut up I know she's not real.

In preparation for the Greatest! Concert! Ever! on Saturday, I perused the boards to find out how much merchandise was, and oh holy shit I'm going to need a second job just to pay for all the crap I want.

The pink and brown Awake hoodie? $75. WTF???

The t-shirts are only about thirty, though, and the key chain (I clearly need a keychain) is only five. *sigh*

The obviously inflated prices is just another thing I'm going to have to talk to Josh about after we're married. No, I'm not entirely sure when I'll have time to marry Josh between having Edward Norton's babies and moving in with my washing machine, but thank you for asking.

Going to go make my bed with NEW! CLEAN! SHEETS! *squee*

Oh God somebody please make Neil Diamond stop already.

I'd like to put whomever decided that nine straight hours of Neil Diamond's "hits" while the people upstairs got Josh was a good idea on notice that they are now on The Top of My List. Right up there with Creepy Guy who asked me if size matters and then DIDN'T TIP ME. No. NO. If you are going to make not-so-lightly veiled double entendres, you tip, DAMMIT.

I love how all the CSI fangirls have jumped on the bandwagon and committed themselves to icon-making, and now there is a metric assload of Teh Shower Scene icons on the web. This is the most family-friendly-my-extended-family-reads-this one I could find. *is happy*

Speaking of all things Keppler-related, I read The Painted Veil yesterday. As non-spoilery a discussion as I can write follows.

Really short, and really good, but completely different from the movie (not that I would know, because it is playing exacly NOWHERE east of Madison). And I got really confused at first, because watching the trailer (which, btw, is kind of What I Do now), you know that there's obvioulsy a reconciliation and they have sex and everythings all good, but thats kind of totally not what happens in the book. Also, Liev Shrieber's character is completely different. And that's a good thing.

I seriously need to find this movie sometime before May 8th.

And the reasons to hate Naomi Watts multiply exponentially.

As you may have noticed, my profile pic changed to Raphael's Madonna of the Meadow. Le Petite Gourmet was getting boring. And I love the colors in this piece, as well as the realistic mom/baby interaction. Usually they show Christ as this little person just perched on Mary's knee, but he actually looks like a baby in this.

Even if that is the whitest Mary I've ever seen.

Some random craziness links I need to comment on ---

The trailer for The Nanny Diaries. This is, by far, one of my favorite books of all time. I laugh tears every time I read it, and I completely love everything about it. And I'm less than thrilled by the way this looks. They changed a lot---she was dressed as a telatubbie, dammit, not a red-white-and-blue whore.

Nancy Drew trailer. Oh God no. Do not do this to me. Do not take perhaps the single most defining thing in my childhood and turn it into a crappy Disney-channel vehicle for Julia Robert's niece. I will not allow my beloved Nancy to become the Lizzie McGuire for a whole new crop of 12-year-olds. Make the lambs stop screaming.

Seriously. When is child services going to take those babies away?

Awww...Opie's a grandpa!!!

Prince Harry goes to Iraq. No, I didn't mean for it to sound like a road trip movie. Anyway, I'm not seeing happy endings for this. Now, they say they're going to try to keep him out of dangerous situations, but when you are the Prince of the Infidels, I'm not seeing that happening.

I'm gonna go watch the WB disappear forever. Ciao bella.

Jack Bauer got Tyler Durden to talk about Fight Club. Then Jack beat the crap out of him.

I'd just like to say that I really hate people. All of them. Every last one,

We now return to our regularly scheduled update.

Soo---quite wrap-up of shows this week. Over on 24, Morris armed the rest of the bombs and is now in a pissy little funk, Jack's dad is Evil (duh), and he would probably be having sex with the brother's wife if the show had enough time for that. Jack I mean, not the dad. That's just icky.

CSI post-Keppler (*tear*). It was okay. I think Catherine should have been more upset. And Grissom needs to shave. Seriously. But I'm glad they brought back that Minature Killer, because at least it's interesting. Even if it is a blatant attempt to distract us from the massive sucking wound that Keppler's death *choking sob* left in our souls as one would dangle keys in front of a baby.

CSI: NY---welcome to the AIDS Awareness hour. Stella's been cut with a bloddy HIV-ridden piece of glass---oh noes!!! And she won't know for three months because of sweeps the test takes time. *sigh* Now, I was totally fine with this whole thing because I figured they had a good ending all planned out , but then there was this little tag at the end asking viewers to send in ideas of what they think should happen to Stella.

What. No. Viewers are NOT to be trusted. These are the morons who ship Mac/Peyton.

Speaking of things that make me retch, how nauseating was the whole Mac/Peyton thing this week. Eww. I think he needs to being celibate in memory of his dead wife. I don't like this.

I am so not amused by school right now. Five midterms in the next two weeks. Boo. Hatehatehatehatehate. And they're all wicked boring too---I don't really care about life on the manor circa 1200.

Wow. This was really short and really boring. Sorry.

If it can happen to *insert name of local weather guy here*, it can happen to you.

My mom and I are infinately amused by that. Apparently sleep apnea can strike anywhere, anytime. Lock up your children.

Water heater guy came yesterday and installed the new one. The best Valentine's ever- the gift of showers. I think I may love him.

First non-Keppler CSI tonight. I think I might cry a little.

Happy Valentine's Day. The mind gapes for a bigger oxymoron.

Considered spending the day holed up in the house wearing sweatpants and drinking. Something along the lines of taking a shot everytime a jewlery/flowers/Hallmark/KY commercial came on. Or someone happy smiled. Hate the world.

Had a paper due and so unfortunately I had to brave the hoards of happy people. Grrr. One of the great underrated joys of having only a few friends? Less people to bug you with their commitment.

Meanwhile, I have many options open for tonight. Let's see. Do I want to watch Lost or CSI:NY? I've been with Lost longer, but I have deeper feelings for CSI. Oh the decisions.

Fortunately, unlike real people, I can turn them off if I get bored. Another underrated pleasure of not having real friends.

I also have a campaign going to state that the gross holiday that Hallmark has turned this into might be a teensy bit blasphemous, because frankly I cannot imagine that St. Valentine himself, who died for his faith for heavens sakes and was probably a nice guy, would want poor lonely girls to sit at home thinking about their rotting eggs and and watching CBS while other people go have sex in his name. *sigh*

I think he needs a nice cathedral or something. That maybe doesn't do weddings.

Also, I looked him up on the Catholic Encyclopedia, and frankly, I don't think we should be handing out cards and candy just because this is when the birds start doing it. Gah. Hate the world more.

But that's okay, because everything else is going so well and my life is just sailing along in unfettered waters.

Or not.

So, Monday. Things were good. Okay, not so good, because the roads were pretty much at a standstill and I obviously missed the bus and had to park at UWM and fail a test and then really, REALLY wish I was back at Concordia, but still pretty good. The containment shelter had been dismantled, and the rest of the crew of the Good Ship Whackjob had pulled out of my bathroom, and the washing machine was due to be fixed that afternoon. Things were looking up.

Of course, the washing machine is totally broken and now we need a new one, and I still have no clean clothes. Also, I was forced to enter a laundromat, which was...different. So by Monday evening my List of Things I Must Have in Life was topped by "my own washing machine untouched by other people's underwear eww".

Ha.

God obvioulsy thought that was amusing, because now "hot water so that I may be untouched by cold water at 6:20 in the morning eww" is right up there.

Sooo, last night The Boy notices that the water is taking forever to heat up. Not actually an unusual occurance, as I usually have turn it on when I start brushing my teeth and three minutes later it might be warm enough to use for my face, but Homeowner Daddy goes rushing down to check the pilot light, which has, of course, becuase why should it be any different here on the Compound?, gone out. And then procedes to do something to something and now we have NO HOT WATER.

Yeah. You read that right.

And let me tell you, taking a cold washcloth-bath at six in the morning but sans washcloth because you have no freaking washing machine and thus no clean towels? Not so much fun.

Winter is evil, and it must now die, mmmkay pumpkin?

Well, blog kitties, I need to go make art history flash cards (Whoo! Van Eyck!!!), so have a not-sucky Valentine's Day and I'll talk to you tomorrow when I've sobered up emerged from hiding.

Insert Life Here

Watched The Illusionist last night. Understood more of it. I was understandably preoccupied during the first viewing.

Wow. I can die now.

Also, had a major life experience this afternoon in that I visited a laundromat for the first time. Our washer is completely dead and will not be making a Lazarus-like return anytime soon, so until we get another one installed, it was this skirt or drastic measures. And after a morning of the four-inch knee high leather boots, I'm ready to go back to my jeans.

This may sound elitist, but there is a reason that the middle class rose to power in the 1950s, and I'd bet the farm that it had something to do with wanting their own washers.

Ooh- 24 is on. Must go. I shall regale you all with the Story of How The Road Became a Parking Lot On the One Day I Needed To Be At School some other time.

She is not a happy person.

Hate the world. Had to spend three freaking hours at work this afternoon listening to bluegrass. By the third round of Amazing Grace for Fiddle, I was ready to beat them all over the head with their goddamn banjos.


Also, can't feel my feet.

Moral victory last night---got the men of the family to watch Kate and Leopold. Woot. Amazing acting aside, it was a pretty good movie. I saw it four years ago when I was in the grips of pneumonia, and was too high/dead to remember much. Except that in the original cut there was unintentional incest. (Imladris's comment? "Hey. I'd do it.")

I'm pushing for The Illusionist tonight. Magic for the Boy, and magic for me. Did you know he did all his own tricks? That's fantastic.

Marie Antoinette DVD on Tuesday--whoo!!! So happy!!! Can't wait!

Read Antonia Fraser's book (the one that inspired it) last week and absolutely loved it. Apparently so did Mary, who borrowed it to let her little sister look at the pictures for a report, and then informed me on Friday that she would be keeping it because it was so good.

I'm going to go study random astronomy concepts that we weren't taught but are being tested on anyway because the guy is a jackass who deserves to beaten with the same banjo that I would like to use on bluegrass people. A demain.

This is Sammy Davis Jr. Jr... She is Grandfather's Seeing Eye bitch. She is also mentally deranged.

Tee-hee. Everything is Illuminated. :D

Still in mourning. The world was a little bit less bright this morning when I woke up.

And not just because here on the compound we currently have no ETA on the dismantling of the contaiment shed, so all the light that comes in the house is filtered. We also have no exit strategy from my bathroom. This is not as good as it gets, belive me.

At least the washing machine will be fixed in forty-eight hours. ETA: Maybe not. It just started sparking. Oh shit.

Le anyhoodles, I was overwhelmed yesterday. First, spent most of the morning mentally putting Naomi Watts on that proverbial crashing plane and thinking of baby names to go with "Shrieber" (incidentally, not a whole lot do). Then Josh was on two shows, which was sufficent excitement to last me awhile (TWO WEEKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). And then The Illusionist came in the mail---whee!!! Also, the little glowing ball on the cover is all shiny. Yes, I am easily amused.

Plus, crazy astronauts in diapers on the cover of People. My day could hardly get any better. Except maybe with this. Yeah. Definately.

Haven't whined about classes in awhile. Sign of emotional maturity? Eh. I think the fact that I'm arguably more upset by the death of a fake character than the war in Iraq takes care of answering that question.


Anyway, they're going pretty well. I hate astronomy guy, though. And we have a test on Monday that I will surely probably fail. Dammit. That was my easy class, and it has been ripped from me!!! Grrr. JMC is good, and the professor realized on Thursday that she has a powerpoint slide that has a picture of Leonardo DiCaprio in every lecture, and is subconciously stalking him. It was pretty funny.


Logic is still insanely easy---even the stuff that I missed I could figure out. Hmmm. I wonder if the Evil Philosphy Department is trying to lull me into a false sense of security...




The one non-Anna Nicole Smith news item on people.com today-I want her life. Now even if they break up, she'll get everything. *sigh* I'm such a romantic...

CSI giveth, and CSI taketh away.

Major spoilers if you haven't seen last night's CSI episode. But more importantly, why weren't you watching? You should have been watching. No. Really. You should have been.


So, I got home from work last night and immediately sat down and began watching it, because frankly the twelve-minute drive home was about more than I could handle. Just the thought of Grissom and Keppler and a dead hooker---well, I could hardly get through that last hour at work.

And from the first moment, I was completely in love with it. They gave me a baby, a waking-up-from-a-dream scene, and a shower scene. Yes. YES. A FREAKING shower scene. Not just rumored on the boards. I was ready to e-mail my undying loyalty and promise of military service to Anthony Zuiker ala a vassal (sorry, I've been studying medieval history), but I was a little too hot and bothered to start the computor. :p

And then they took my emotional investment and ran it over with a truck. Or rather, shot it in the chest because that damn whore ran. Stupid whore. They killed him. KILLED HIM. NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'd actually avoided spoilers for these episodes, because they were so creepy and good, so I had absolutely no idea. I was totally hoping that they'd bring him back- at least on days. But no. And now I'm very sad.

Also, Grissom came back. I didn't really think that would be an afterthought, but that's what you get for shooting the father of my children through the heart, CSI writers. *death glare*


And I ask you, did the world really need another reason to hate Naomi Watts? I think not.


Okay, seriously going to go work on my paper. Toodles.

ETA: Oh good Lord, I need to find The Painted Veil. NOW.

I did not and oh God shhh!!!!

Update of life here on the Compound- as if the bio terrorism threat bunker mentality, propped open window seats, and various foreign bars of soaps and washcloths that I DIDN'T USE occupying space in MY SHOWER weren't enough, now the washing machine broke.

Yes, our amazing European-crafted, water-saving, life-changing machine now refuses to spin (as opposed to the last couple of times when it refused to turn on, refused to turn off, refused to open, refused to close, and refused to drain). It pumps in lots and lots of water, and then drains the water, but the drum doesn't actually spin to get the copious amounts of water out of the clothes, leaving one wringing out towels at six-fifty in the morning (I guess that's the life changing part.)

And I have to stay home on Monday afternoon and deal with the repair guy. I don't like repair guys. They tend to steal from us.

I hate that damn machine. Morena IS not amused.

Well, okay, she's a little amused. Because amazon.com shipped her copy of The Illusionist on DVD. :D

What, you say? Didn't you just spend five dollars on that at Blockbuster? Surely this is not sound financial behavior.

On the contrary- this is actually exercising considerable financial savvy. Because I ordered a book on Catherine the Great (nymphomania in the Russian royal family---whee!!!). The book was $20. In order to get free shipping, your order had to be over $25. So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to add The Illusionist to the order, bringing the total obviously to more than 25 dollars. See? Makes sense.

But, you say, why wouldn't you just pay shipping an handling that costs about four dollars as opposed to buying a sixteen dollar DVD to avoid paying the aforementioned four bucks?

There is clearly only one answer to that: the shipping and handling charge can't do that *points to icon above* :D

I think this makes sound financial sense.

I'm going to go teach myself how to compute truth functionality values for compound equations. And then fold some towels. Please don't be jealous.

The Procratstinator's Guide to Life.

I'm supposed to be writing my JMC paper. Heh. That's totally not happening. Instead I'm sitting here listening to Mozart's Requiem (What? It's good but soft. I can work through it.) and staring at the metric ass-load of stuff I have to do today. First, the paper, plus a chapter in that book, fifty art history (read: freakin' dense) pages, a history chapter plus five firsthand source readings (Do you know what they wrote like in 1100??? Not like us.), and a logic assignment that I probably won't understand because I was too scared of losing my nose if I ventured outside yesterday. *sigh*

My muse is dead. I can't write anything. *sigh again*

Oooh, also, I'd just like to pose a query as to how some people can be so obviously brilliant and so obviously stupid, all at the same time. He must have been really hot.

Maybe part of my problem is that the assignment is to pick a side and defend it, and I kind of haven't picked a side yet. What? I agree with both sides...kinda. Grrr.

It taunts me. The little flashing bar thingy on Word. I hate the little flashing bar thingy.

Hatehatehatehatehate.

~~~Two Hours Later~~~

It is now 4:07, and I'm just finished. And I'm convinced it's crap. Don't care. Just a rough draft. Going to go die now. Ta.

A green drink-induced hormonal whining frenzy. Fasten your seat belts, it's gonna be a bumby night.

Here's my window. Please note the blue tape and plastic.

Yeah. We're normal. I'm living in a bubble, there are board games and random pillows all over the dining room, and PEOPLE are IN MY BATHROOM. I got in the shower this morning and found boy shampoo on the side of the tub next to my lovely apricot scrub and lavender musk body spray. Morena is NOT amused.

Tomorrow, I'm going to CALL a THERAPIST and see if we can get a FREAKIN' FAMILY RATE. *growls irritably* Morena is not to be toyed with.

(She also needs to stop capitalizing things.)

Also, she temporarily lost her tips this afternoon before she realized that she left them in the car. Not too bright, that Morena.

Sooo, just so you know, football is WAY funner with a bottle of wine. Because you begin to realize that the players are all basically just humping each other out there, but because it's "football", the most sacred of all Guy Things, it's not gay at all. Well, I'm here to tell you, it is gay. Really, really gay.

Also, I love how CBS pimps their shows majorly, because I saw like six previews for next week's CSIs, featuring both Grissom and Kepplar. Gosh. I almost self-destructed.

Speaking of which, spreading a little of the Kepplar-love...

I'm very tired, all. Going to go stare at that little clock thingy that KEEPS STOPPING and try to make it STOP STOPPING so that Criminal Minds can COME ON ALREADY SOME OF US HAVE SCHOOL IN THE MORNING GAH...

ETA: Ooh, just one more thing. Remember the Snape sticker that I was talking about last time? Yeah, well, I got to work today, and there was the same thing, but a NAME TAG!!! So now my name tag says Severus Snape. Friend or Foe? I am dead with the happiness. :D (Unfortunately, it's the book picture, and not Alan. Booo. Poor form.)

ETA 2: Confidential to Mickey to pass on to Spawn of Mickey: Entourage Season 3 Part 1 announced. Apparently, there's a whole thing where season 3 is still going on but not really and I've had too many drinks for it to make sense. But the next set will be coming out on April 3. You may now bow before my internet godessness. Thank you and good night.

It's like candy, but with blood. Which is so much better!

So. Freaking. Tired. Want to die. Because when you die you get to sleep for a long time. That's looking very good right now.

Have gotten about eight combined hours of sleep over the past three days. And I am not one of these people who can get three hours a night and be all perky in the morning---I'm a gone-at-ten kind of girl. I could never survive in the Eastern time zone, because I'd have to fall asleep during all my CSIs...

Also, drinking a pot of regular coffee at twelve-thirty at night while stressing and watching The Illusionist? Not so much of a good idea. Because even when your reason for stressing arrives home safe and sound, you CANNOT go to sleep. And not just because you're thinking of a hundred different ways for Jessica Biel to die.

That said, The Illusionist was an absolutely fantastic movie- I can't believe I didn't see it in theaters, actually, because it kind of looks like something I'd have wanted to see. Except it came out in August. During August I was kind of preoccupied with the plague, and all non-Pirates movies got passed over.

But I should have gone, because it was really good. Everyone should go see it. I even stopped hating Jessica Biel's existance on this planet for awhile. And that, my friends, deserves an Academy Award. Great story, creepy shadowy cinematography, and Paul Giamatti playing The Short Fat Funny Sidekick, a character he seems to play in...oh...everything. But he's good at it. Plus a little Austrian royalty. You can't beat that, mate.

Also? Edward Norton is kind of hot in sepia tones.

Hey, y'all remember back c. 2002 when there was that major bioterrorism scare and Tom Ridge told everybody to go buy plastic sheeting and duct tape and baricade themselves in their houses (which, btw, made like negative sense)???

Yeah. If that happens again, we're good.

Because here in Kansas, when the temperature drops below 0, you take drastic measures. That kind of make me feel like I can't breath. At least psychosomatically. I realize that's weird, but if you start taping the windows, you have to expect it.

I was going to take a picture of my bedroom window, but my cell phone won't work. Booo.

Today's List of Unacceptable Items:

1.) People. People in general, but especially people who come in at 9:45, order six drinks and food (to stay, no less) and then make a milk thig explode (okay, not their fault. But I hate them so much that I'm blaming them for it) and then leave books in the cafe so that I have to put them away. Also, annoying grandmothers with their obnoxious children who just run and scream and make me really wish the Kahlua syrup was spiked.

2.) Creepy construction guys who tip me and then stare at me as though this were a brothel and I owed them something for it. Perv. Just get your cream and go.

3.) Broken backpacks in the middle of the year when there are about two backpacks available in the entire state and they're really ugly. Forcing me to go to Office Max and buy a messenger bag because the only backpacks they had were (honest to God) between SIXTY and EIGHTY dollars. Now. I'm pretty sure that if I was going to pay eighty dollars for a backpack, it would have to actually do the course work for me. And that was not listed on the little sheet of features between breathable fabric and ergonomically-designed straps (apparently for all those business types who need to go hiking, but want to take care of their backs).

One Acceptable Item :

1.) Unless you've been under a rock recently, you know they announced the release date for the new Harry Potter book. Now, when you work at a book store, this is so important that you begin dividing time by this date and abandon the whole BC/AD thing altogether. The management is already getting ulcers and high blood pressure just thinking about it.

And the marketing- oh the marketing. I got to work yesterday and my mailbox was full of OMG WHAT TO DO WHEN THE GATES ARE STORMED and PLEASE BE NICE TO THE CUSTOMERS ESPECIALLY THE BITCHES WHAT WOULD HARRY DO??? memos , and then at the bottom a little bookmark that said, "Severus Snape. Friend? Or foe?" *squee* I want to be his friend. And that's all I'll say because this is a family blog.

It made my night.

Quick what I'm reading update before I go eat a pizza and watch Grey's Anatomy (what? They got married in Vegas? No. And how can you build a clinic in eight days? That's impossible. )

Read this really awesome book, Helen of Troy, a couple of days ago---totally recommend it, except they talked about sex a lot. Like a lot a lot. But hey, those Greek's were freaky, no??? More of a cultural biography, tracing Helen's influence rather than her actual history because, well, we don't know that she had a history. The most beautiful woman in the world maybe didn't exist. But anyway, fantastic. Also loved the archeological and artistic research this woman did. Really good.

Oh, good Lord, Meredith's mom is having a lucid moment and hitting on the chief. Gotta go watch this.