Do not mess with the emo punkness.

I was walking through the living room where my father of all people was glued to Dancing with the Stars, and the Fat One was dancing to "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne.

And they changed the lyric to "Hell yeah, I'm the ever-loving princess."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

*chokes*

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

It is really not ever-loving princess.


Ah! Alan icon!!! Perfect lead in to discuss the other things I wanted to discuss!!!

Une, SWEENEY TODD TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!! *is dead* *just realized the irony of that* *laughs self silly* And I shall buy it and be able to fastforward through the awkward pants issues, and therefore my love for Teh Rickman will remain intact!!! Hah!!!

Deux, Masterpiece Theater is wrapping up the Complete Jane Austen with my absolutley favorite Austen EVER OMG, Sense and Sensibility, in a three-part adaptation. The first one was last night, and I have several thoughts.

1.) How do I know David Morrissey? I feel as though I know his name, but IMDB turns up nothing the The Other Boleyn Girl, during which I did admittedly think, "Huh, Duke of Norfolk was kind of hot."

2.) David Morrissey? Not so hot. So apparently I just have a thing for the Duke of Norfolk. *ponders this* Eh. It's better than St. Thomas More, I guess. Does Norfolk have a law school???

3.) Whomever this little bitch is that's playing Marianne? YOU SUCK and I DON'T LIKE YOU. BRING BACK KATE!!! She's whiny and not passionate or funny or anything that Kate was in what has become known as the "real" version.

4.) Okay, you know how I've spent hours and countless whatever-is-the-internet-equivalent-of-pages defending the union of Col. Brandon and Marianne and yelling about how Marianne's a stupid whore who doesnt know what she's got going? Um. Yeah. Apparently? I just ship Alan Rickman and the 17-year-old. Because these two? Meh. Take 'em or leave 'em.

5.) THERE IS NOT SEXAGE IN THE AUSTEN. NEVER, EVER NOT EVEN CLOSE. NO KISSING OR "HOUSE-VISITING" EITHER!!! DO YOU HEAR ME PBS!?!?! THIS HAD BETTER STOP NEXT WEEK.

6.) OMG MY DAD LIKES THIS!!! Like, he asked if it was continuing next week! And when we suggested that perhaps this isn't up to his standards of manliness because no one is owning a mill or wearing sequins and a smile hoping to shore up their lost careers, he just scoffed.

And that? Made my week. :D

We shall be married in the morning!!!

We watched Enchanted last night, and omg, the 5-year-old in me was incredibly thrilled, and the 20-year-old thought it was FREAKING HILARIOUS. So, so funny.

Arty.

Haha.

And there was Irish coffee. Which always makes things very good.

Today I went to Mass, out to coffee, watched like five hours of The Gilmore Girls, two hours of History of Britain (up to 1688---whoo!!!), and now I'm really hungry and headachy.



This morning at the end of Mass was the whole nomination process for the parish committees, when members had the option of writing the name of the person they wanted nominated on a card. And let me tell you, it was not an appropriate time for Colleen, Mary, and I to be sitting together.

Ultimately we decided that "Cookie Monster" should win out for Parish Council, but "Chuck E. Cheese" put up a good show, as well as the underdog favorite, "yo momma".

Oh, we're going to hell.

Slightly possessed-looking, velvety Barry...

...would like to wish my mommy a very happy birthday. :D

I am NOT a lush.

But I am very tired. And covered in bruises that have shown up since yesterday.

And I would like to apologize for this entire week being kind of one big moving post like, "And today I hung up a poster! Cheer for me!!!" which is really boring unless you're the one actually hanging said poster. So sorry. Maybe next we'll talk about some more interesting things. Like how I'm going to have to build a career on but never actually visit the United Kingdom, or Easter, which was like a week ago but I never actually discussed. Huh. Maybe not.

Maybe I'll just post pictures of the new room??? How would that be??

In the meantime, I give you the funniest Lolcat I've seen in awhile. I look at this cat? And just want to laugh out loud.


see more crazy cat pics

*Is dead*

48-hour plan was completed in just 49 hours, which is pretty damn good given that I completely ignored any and all of the actual work involved in said 48-hour plan.

It's finished save for three pictures and a bulletin board, which will be done tomorrow because apparently the wall screw is just WAY too involved to be done hours before 10:00, but whatever.

And now I'm exhausted and feeling sick (Phantom Baby did not pick a good day to appear), and I'm going to bed.

Snaps for me.

(And my mom, who did most of the work.)

Dare I say it? I may go back to being the most normal one in the family tomorrow!!!

Maybe. Those pictures aren't up yet.

In flux.

Okay. 48 hour plan is in place. 48 plan was in shambles earlier this morning when we discoveredt hat we neglected to realize that there IS NO INTERNET IN THE FREAKING KITCHEN WHERE THE COMPUTER IS GOING!!!!! Then the 48 hour plan was back on when we realized we just needed an adapter. And then the 48-hour plan as back off when we realized the ELECTRONICS DO NOT WORK MUST MAKE BROWNIES.

So I made brownies. And then almost finished the room.

And the wallpaper? I love. So much more than I will *ever* love my husband.

I can't wait to finally move in.

Ooh, also??? It looks like Borders and Best Buy had a love child that threw up all over. What with all the books and DVD sets and all.

Ooh, and also squared??? If I lent you David Starkey's Six Wives will you please let me know? Because I can't find it, and I don't know where I could have put a 750-page Tudor tome.

(Oh, who am I kidding. I could have put it like sixteen different places with all my other 750-page Tudor tomes.)

(I still want to know about it though.)

(I'm really tired and haven't eaten today and am going to go to bed now, mmkay???)

They should have thought about this before comingling their crazy obsessive genes.

There is now a mover coming tomorrow, and wallpaper has been bought, and bookshelves have been moved, and I have a 48 hour plan to transform the den into my new bedroom and dammit, I will not be stopped by school or work or any other obligations I may have had this week!!!

My mother and her Ritter genes are now thoroughly disgusted with me, as they would prefer to wait and talk about it at least until after the presidential election. The one in 2012.

(I kid. She's being awesome.)

(But she is a little sick of me.)

(Okay. A lot sick.)

This is why I wouldn't actually be a good lawyer.

Oh dudes! I cannot wait. Boston legal goes to the Supreme Court!!! Like, the real one! Not the lame-ass one I get to vote for next Tuesday.

(Side Note: Wisconsin sucks.)

Shockingly, I know, the real justices didn't want to appear (BOO!!! POOR FORM!!!) so they went with look-alikes. Which is kind of amusing in and of itself.

But if I were on the Supreme Court? I would be the annoying one going, "OMG you guys, we, like, HAVE to do it!!! We have lifetime appointments, we can afford to look a little foolish! DAMMIT I WANT TO MEET WILLIAM SHATNER YOU WILL NOT RUIN THIS FOR ME, SOUTER!!!"

(You know Souter would be the stick-in-the-mud who wouldn't want to do it. I'll bet Scalia was all over it.)

And then Roberts would probably just be like, "My God, I did not sell my soul to the devil to work with this bitch. Seriously. Who appointed you?"

Can't wait for April!!!!

'Twas Pink

Note: I am not evil incarnate. I love my grandfather. And yesterday's entry was not intended to be malicious. And he was very nice. Just letting you know.

I didn't have to yell at anyone to sit down and shut up, I got to roam the playground with Mary and Colleen until late at night, and Colleen even did her Tyra strut, so I guess the Easter vigil was a success.

Also some sniffling and tearful "OMG WHAT ABOUT NEXT YEAR NOES DON'T GO!!!"

Other than that, I mean.

We decided that:

1.) 12 years is a really long time.

2.) We're really old.

3.) It's a damn good thing no shows are ending this season because Colleen wouldn't be able to handle the added emotional pressure.

4.) This transition will go much smoother if the new priest is a Father-What-a-Waste.

5.) I'm probably going to hell.

What? It was late and we were giddy. And also Colleen had been hitting the boxed wine. It's still probably a good think Grandpa doesn't have internet access.

I kid, it was a beautiful Mass, and I actually liked it better without the baptisms, because if felt like people weren't focused on one person, but rather on themselves and the whole community. If that makes any sense.

So even if this was the last Easter vigil we have, I'll know I've been blessed to have such wonderful friends to share the last six years with.

This morning came really early, though, and then I got wicked tired at Daddy's parents' house, possibly because of the large quantity of meat available. So I am going to go enjoy some brand new sangria and a Manhattan because hey, Christ did not die so we could drink water.

Also? No school tomorrow. Shh!! Don't tell UWM. They don't know yet.

Maybe this is why he doesn't like me.

My grandfather is coming with us to Mass tonight, and I just know he's going to be all whiny and annoying and wanting to leave early and dammit, I am not leaving early so you can just sit down and shut the hell up.

*ahem*

Holy Saturday! Yay!

Far fewer cogs.

Things may actually be creeping forward re: Sister Smoke-Out 2008.



I know, right?



I finally got my parents to figure out where all the furniture was going, because I, quite logically, realized that if we know exactly what rooms need to be cleaned out, there will be far fewer rooms for me to facilitate.

(Side Note: Daddy dragged me up to the attic a few nights ago, in order to tell me what he wanted done. Which mostly consisted of "straightening up". Which makes no sense. And everything I was supposed to straighten? Was covered in bugs. Um. Yeah. No. So I haul myself back up there yesterday, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to facilitate. Hah. No. I grouped the holidays together, and then kind of figured that since NOTHING WAS GOING UP HERE ANYWAYS, Daddy probably would think it was clean. Mom agreed, incidentally. And let me tell you, for a man who didn't notice when his entire bedroom was changed for an entire week? He caught on to my less-than-complete "straightening" job in like two minutes. Yeah. That was a pointless story.)



Okay. Anyway. Before, there was this whole huge thing where for some reason both attics and the basement had to be cleaned, and my parent's room, and the hallway for some reason that I haven't figure out because the computer can't go both places, but whatever, because the furniture all had to be moved to undisclosed locations. Now, the huge sofa that, excuse me, wasn't making it upstairs anyway is just being tossed (*squee*), half the furniture is going to Colleen's new larger room, and the other half is going to become a "hearth room" in the kitchen.



Except, you know, lacking a hearth.



But I'm thrilled about this, because our kitchen is kind of just a shit hole where people pile crap and then yell at me when I repile the crap someplace else where no one will see it. And the kitchen table is a very large receptacle for this crap. And now it will be gone. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.



So now really the only cog is cleaning out the homeschooling stuff, which Mommy Dearest has promised to do soon. And then I can wallpaper and move the stuff. *squee*



And there will be a ceiling fan estimate next week sometime. YAY!!!

But then yesterday Mom came up with an issue. Apparently, her entire dating/courtship/engagement took place on her parents' couch in the family room. And now we won't have a family room! OR a a couch!!! And where for the love of God will we court!?!?!?!

After I stopped laughing, I hastened to assure my mother that this wouldn't be that big of an issue, because, um, has she met me? And she's all, Oh, but you might find someone tomorrow!!! And I'm all, yeah, but I wouldn't want to bring them back here the day after!!!

And then she was all, "But wait! What about like after Easter dinner? You're not going to send him home when the rest of the family leaves!"

Um. Yeah. After Easter dinner, I'm bloated, drunk, and going to be really pissed that I have to go to school the next day. He'll be lucky if I let him come at all and don't yell, "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE I HAVE TO BE IN HISTORY IN TEN HOURS AND DAYTON IN 48 I LOVE YOU BUT LEAVE THE THE HELL ALONE!!!"

And we wonder why I'm single.

No allowing for taste.

I read Pattie Boyd's autobiography this morning (Colleen read most of it a month ago, but checked out after George Harrison- that's really all she was interested in.) and wow, she was really stupid.

And Eric Clapton was an alcoholic sociopath. Apparently.

So now I have added to my life's goals to stay away from creative types with access to lots and lots of e, because damn, that will screw you up.

Real Plantagenets bring you bloody victories over ancestral enemies on the battlefields of France. Richard II brought England the pocket handkerchief.

I read The English American today, and I highly recommend (I also finished Morgan Llywellyn's Irish Century series, but that deserves it's own discussion). Except I think I may be pregnant, as I got really over-emotional about everything having to do with babies, or adoption, or adopted babies. Which, as the book was about an adopted baby, was quite frequently.

And I fell in love with the coat the woman is wearing on the cover. It's so pretty. I want it. I wonder if I contacted the publisher if they could send me a website???

Ooh, and a signature fragrance!!! I has one!!! It is called Inis, and it is from Ireland (not known for their fine scents, but whatever) and pretty and relatively inexpensive and supposedly smells like the sea.

I wouldn't know, because my entire experience with the sea consists of exactly one evening wading into the Atlantic somewhere in Virginia after visiting some military base because something happened there, and I don't recall any scents at all except for the rotting coastline and a lot of teal t-shirt shops.

I expect that the Irish sea smells better.

One day, I shall thank her in my book.

Colleen was rifling through my DVDs this afternoon and picks up one.

Imladris, Possible History Major: *sarcastically* "Ooh, History of Britain. Exciting."

Morena, Actual History Major: "It's actually quite interesting."

Imladris, Possible History Major: "Wait. This ends in 1200. How can it be the history of Britain if it ends in 1200?"

Morena, Actual History Major: "That's just the first volume. There are five. It's like 15 hours long."

Imladris, Possible History Major: "Wow. That's what keeps people like you employed."

If you're lucky enough to be Irish, you're lucky enough.

It's Saint Patrick's Day!!! And instead of ending the day bent over a toilet heaving up green beer like all those who declare themselves Irish for 24 hours, I'm just going to do a blog post. And maybe have some Baileys.

(Hah! Maybe!)

(It's funny 'cuz I'm a lush!)

Anyway, I consider myself totally Irish. I have a really Irish first name that shows up in songs all the time, I look like a freakin' leprechaun, and my skin is practically translucent. But then people find out my last name and it's like I forfeit any claim to the motherland.

Which isn't fair, because if my mother had listened to her mother twenty five years ago when she sat her down and said, "You realize your children's last name is going to be *Insert Ridiculously Difficult to Spell and Not That Pretty Name Here*?", we wouldn't have this problem. But noooo, my mom was all, "But oh, I love him!!!"

Pssh. Whatever. She should have thought ahead, that one.

(I love you, Daddy!!!)

I am actually Irish genetically, some percentage that I can never remember, even though my mom and sister who know these things have told me over and over again but I'm just "Whatever, give me the Baileys," along with German and Polish and Scottish, even though no one will admit it. But here's the thing- the German was beaten into submission fifty years ago. I'm pretty sure by the time my mom was conceived the German genes had given up and didn't even bother making the trip to the zygote.

And Scottish? Why, what have you heard?

But my mom really raised me, and her mom really raised her, and dammit, culturally, I am Irish. I came home from the hospital in an "Irish Baby" onesie, the only music that would calm me down was Irish-American music, I go to Irish Fest twice every year, my mom used to carry me around describing Waterford, Belleek, (and Wedgewood, which is totally British, but I'm ignoring that. Although I do really connect with Britain. I'm pretty sure one of my ancestors hooked up with and Englishman. Do you know where Sligo is? It's like right next to Ulster. And we all know I'm a whore for an accent. I must have gotten that somewhere.) and I really like potatoes, like, A LOT.

In a recent development, I'm going to write my master's thesis on something about Irish/British relations.

(Although I wouldn't hold my breath for the publication. Six weeks ago it was the crusades.
Me: Oh, I love the crusades!!!
Aaron: Which ones?
Me: All of them!
Aaron: Even the fourth?
Me: Oh. Damn. I forgot about that one. Okay, notsomuch with the fourth.
Aaron: Ha! I outhistoried the history major.
Me: Shut up. I need to go study.)

I've been reading about Irish history a lot recently, and it's made me thrilled that I am first and foremost an American and live in a country where I am a free citizen, but it also has given me an incredible respect for the Irish nation who struggled and continue to struggle even today.

My family jumped ship during the 1840's (because I'm pretty sure they flippin' loved potatoes, too) and missed the whole Easter Rising, Irish Free State, Home Rule thingy (although we did have a relative who was totally in the IRA, which is freaky, actually), but they were there for the revolts in 1603, the Battle of the Boyne, the United Irishmen Uprising in 1798, and certainly felt the effects of the Act of Union in 1800. I can't imagine living in a country and then being told, "Oh, btw, it's not yours anymore. You're British now. Congratulations!"

(Except we've already established that I'm a whore for an accent.)

So yeah, I'm not sure where I was going with this, except to be all "Up with Ireland!!! Whoo!!!" I think I'm going to go inquire about the Baileys.

(Oh, don't worry. It's only 1:30.)

(Give me a couple hours.)

(My Irish eyes will be smiling!!!)

My goodness, 8:49 already?

Hmmm. Almost time for bed.

I get to sleep in tomorrow. And I am terribly amused by this.

I am not amused by the enormous amount of cleaning I've done today, including getting all my stuff out of both attics, sorting through every single piece of clothing I own, coming up with three huge bags to give away and five huge bags to throw away, and then actually cleaning a good chunk of the attic and not hurling large, heavy things at my sister who "omg, didn't put anything in the attic EVER" well then WHY THE HELL IS YOUR SHIT ALL OVER, HUH!?!?!?

Oh, and I worked all day.

I'm definitely going to bed.

Although, I do kind of want to name my daughter Layla.

When I got to work today (well, okay, first I set up the food apparently completely wrong, which earned me a harsh warning from my contemporary whom I was trying not to bodily harm, but after that), I was immediately handed a sheaf of papers and sent to the biography bay.

The biography bay is my baby. It's kind of the shittiest job, because it's huge and we never have any of the titles, so you have to roam the store looking for anything that looks remotely non-fiction and has a main character 'cuz hey! It could be a biography!!! So when I started working in books about a year ago, Pam took advantage of my naivete and now the biography bay? Is mine. Every time I work, I fix it up.

Today it got overhauled. Which I guess was good, because some of the books had been there since last summer. But it was a major pain-in-the-ass, because we had NONE of the books. And as Borders Corp. is probably a little bit sick of my fascination with 16th-century British monarchs, the pickings were a little bit slim.

So my biography bay? Is now a homage to Eric Clapton.

I guess his autobiography didn't sell that well, because there were a billion copies in the backroom, at least until I dragged them out and artfully arranged them. That's actually kind of weird, because I've heard how amazing it was from two separate people in my real-not-work life within the last two weeks. But I digress.

It's almost as thought I've heard more than one of his songs.

Now I've had my glass of sangria and Colleen's, because she decided mid-sip that she doesn't like sangria and my Lord, I am not the kind of girlw ho lets something like that go to waste!!! And Wedding Crashers is on, so I'm going to go.

Catholic Kitty

see more crazy cat pics

I lied.

I know, I know, I was going to do a whole 600- posts how far we've come my growth let me you show you it, but...um...I'm really tired.

After six exams and two papers in the last week, I'm kind of at the end of my rope. Exam #5 this morning went well, except that I could have written a better one. Like not a better answer, but a better exam. It completely ignored the entire American Revolution/War with the Colonies (pick a side, any side), two of the essays were about the EXACT SAME THING, and the entire contribution to Napoleon? Was one stinking battle hidden in side a larger essay question. Poor form. But I knew everything (well, okay, except for the part that said, "And what would Cannadine have to add to this? Sue me, I didn't read all four hundred pages. Pssh.), so I was kind of just spewing hopefully not-random tidbits for 75 minutes.

Because here's the thing- there's bonus points available. So you can never really do well enough, because that extra percentage of population increase? Could totally get you more points! This is like FREAKING HELL for someone crazy conscientious like me.

So at 9:14 I was still writing about how much of the world's industry Britain controlled in 1850 (40%, in case you were wondering.)

And then my hand got really stiff and I could barely get my ring off.

Exam #6? Well, after the 75 minute marathon essay session, I didn't really care. And I knew most of it, so I'm just ignoring it and praying for a curve. Because if I fail? Work is going to be really awkward. "Hi. I'm the girl you failed. Prepare to die."

I just got home from work where people yelled at me because they refused to believe that the short story by Truman Capote was the book that inspired Breakfast at Tiffany's (YES IT WAS I'VE READ IT AND THERE IS LOTS OF SEX AND PERHAPS YOU SHOULDN'T BE GIVING IT TO YOUR TEN-YEAR-OLD, BITCH!!! *ahem*), and called me to ask me what 25% off of a $19 CD would be.

Yes. I received a phone call, looking for math help.

Now I'm going to watch TV and go to bed and then tomorrow I am going to force myself to find something halfway decent and pretty to wear to Easter and Colleen's graduation (my lack of self-esteem!!! Let me show you it!!!) before all the things with anything resembling a sleeve is gone.

Vive la spring break.

Your real Post #600 will come tomorrow.

For tonight I am snarly and tired and going to bed. But I can recite an incredibly detailed history of the American revolution and Napoleon's entire military career as well as the the countless rebellions in Ireland (my Lord, they would not let go!!!). Au revoir.

Welcome to the Crazy

John took a quiz yesterday and flipped out- no, for reals, FLIPPED OUT- because he didn't think he did very well.

He got a 92%.

I'm flipping out because all of a sudden the professor announced that we have 400 pages of a textbook that will probably be on the exam that we didn't know about and the exam is on THURSDAY. I freaking loved that guy before. He gave me a 100. I wanted him to be my new daddy. Now? I want his blood.

Because much like my whole 4.0 issue, once you get 100, anything less looks like failure.

But tonight this does not matter, because it will be spent watching my Celine and drinking and celebrating a deceased person's birthday. What? We're Irish. It makes sense.

DVD Chronicles

Note: Sensitive individuals may wish to not click on the link in the bottom paragraph. Just warning y'all.

You remember my DVD player, don't you? Of course you do. It's pretty much my only friend. Well, this time it swallowed a Family Ties DVD (NOES!!! I MUST HAVE YOUR '80'S GOODNESS!!!!!!!!!!!), and then promptly died. And wouldn't come back. Even after I painstakingly disconnected everything and unscrewed all 16,000 screws and then screwed them all back and ended up with two left over.

So I went and bought another one. Again. I'm giving up soon and switching to Blu-Ray.

But the most amusing thing was this morning when I was bemoaning the fact that I was going to have to do all that unscrewing and my dad looks up, all concerned, and says, "You know you should unplug it, right?"

Um. Yeah. I know I'm a history major and all, but I didn't realize my family thinks I'm stupid enough to stick a metal rod into an appliance coursing with electricity.

OMG, y'alls, had so much to do today. Three tests to study for, two essays to write, an entire house that was filthy, apparently no towels (I got this from the screams of anguish coming from the bathroom this morning, and the unkind replies when I helpfully suggested that maybe if someone other than me knew how to wash the towels, we wouldn't be out all the time), and I wanted to clean out the basement because I've been told I cannot even think about moving any furniture until everything I own is completely not touching any communal areas such as the basement or attics.

But I got it all finished, and only checked Facebook six times while writing the essays, and OH MY GOD DO YOU KNOW HOW DIFFICULT THIS WHOLE GRADUATE SCHOOL THING IS GOING TO BE FOR ME!?!?!?! And I even finished hauling my shit out of the basement.

Major issue re: the whole moving downstairs thing, though. The room? Has no ceiling fan. The room? Is on the first floor. The windows? If left open could allow in rapists and murderers and all sorts of other dangerous types that totally live in Grafton. Morena? Is not pleased.

So now I need to figure out how much a ceiling fan and an electrician to install said ceiling fan (Daddy: You sure I can't do it? Mom and I: NO!), because I have to pay for it and I'm really, really broke.

But I can't decide if I like the idea of not having any moving air all summer long and possibly breaking a sweat or being hacked to teensy pieces and served on toast point (What? This is Wisconsin. We do weird shit here.) less.

I'm thinking the Gein route would take hours, maybe. All summer with my bionic sweat? Not fun.

LaX

I spent the day at Starbucks.

Yes, I need all that crap.

I could do without this crap.

John is not amused by the situation.

Saturday night, drinking sangria

Me: Why?

Colleen: Because it's Saturday!!!

Hells yeah. My ridiculously inebriated ancestral blood needs no reason to enjoy an inexpensive Spanish wine.

I think I may stop studying, though. Because between the pull of Monty Python and the sangria? I can't even pronounce the Battle of Leipzig, much less figure out what it signifies.

ETA: According to Wikipedia (where I like to get all my historical information), it was the seminal battle in Napoleon's career, when he lost for the first time to Britain, Prussia, Russia, and Austria, and then tried to off himself using diluted poison. Huh. Interesting.

Oh God So Sick

I was handed a twenty and dropped at a Starbucks for two hours. And now I want to die. A horrible, over-caffeinated death.

Why I Cannot Work Retail For the Rest of My Life

Tonight? Instead of working? I read Sex in Space with Aaron and laughed and laughed. Or at least until he read what I guess was a particularly interesting part, laughed so hard he had to put the book down, and then refused to tell me what it was because, "I'm just enough older than you that it would be creepy."

Then I had to hit him with a season of The Tudors, which I was ostensibly shelving.



Also? I feel a little bit badly about the previous comments re: the nuns in Ohio. Because our nun now has three broken ribs and is quarantined. And I'm clearly going to hell.

Instead we're driving to Lacrosse in the middle of the night. Yay.

Oh, boo hoo.

The news is doing something about how there has been a rash (2) of armed robberies around the Marquette campus. Please. That's like before breakfast at UWM.

In other news, is it sad that I'm happy I'm going to be on spring break for this?

I don't think so. I think it makes me intelligent.

Tonight brought to you by my Advil Cold and Sinus addiction.

It's official. Huckabee just gave the longest concession speech in history. It was longer than many celebrity marriages. I loved the part when he started thanking people who were totally immigrants even though he wants them all thrown out along with their natural-born citizen children screw jus soli!!!

Perhaps a man who wants to change the constitution to "reflect God's laws" maybe wants to read that part of the Bible where Jesus hung out with the unfortunates. Maybe.

Meanwhile, Hillary and Obama are still bitchfighting. And McCain is off hugging W. I guess.


One more thing before I go finish Eureka Street and fall asleep (Shut up, 8:50 is a perfectly normal time to go to bed. I have a very busy life.) You know Ohio? With the nuns and the nunnery and did I mention nuns? Just got better. Because now the nuns are suffering from a flu epidemic.

So we get to go visit our nun in her little room in the assisted living facility. Which is in the building without a cafeteria (if the nuns can do anything, it's cook.)

Let's break this down. Hours in a room, with an ailing nun, without food, in the place where nuns go to die.

Maybe I'll bring along my history notes, because the Catholic oppression in the UK c. 1800? Is more uplifting than this weekend is looking to be.

Oh, I lied. One more thing. I heard about this in two separate classes before noon this morning. Maybe I should shut up defending my school so much.

The promised thoughts.

Two things before I get to the Other Boleyn Girl Or Worst Tudor Movie EVER.

1.) I just got an e-mail from my music professor talking about the midterm, and apparently there is going to be a listening thing at the beginning. And now I'm a little bit scared, because the music we've listened to in class has been stupid and "This is bluegrass". So I'm not sure what the questions are going to be about those. Is this bluegrass? Or who sang this and what year was it released? Oh, well, I'm over this and I can't wait for it to be over. So yeah. Pray for a curve.

2.) I took an online art history exam, which was blessedly free of "OMG WHAT THE HELL WHICH CATHEDRAL IS THAT CAN'T BREATH DYING NOW", but comes with a whole new set of anxiety, of the brand-new variety "OMG INTERNETS YOU HAD BETTER WORK OR SO HELP YOU GOD!!!"

Yeah. That was fun. Because I do so love to put 30% of my grade in the hands of my laptop that's been carted (and maybe dropped a couple times) all over the east side.




So, Other Boleyn Girl.

Or Movie That's Kind of About Mary and Anne Boleyn But Really Not and Rocks Fall Everyone Dies.

Colleen left saying it was so depressing that it only could have been sadder if they ate baby panda sandwiches. Haha.

Anyhoodles, I'm not even really mad because it was wrong (Although that started bugging me by the end. Especially when Henry calls Mary back for her counsel. Yeah. Henry VIII was so kind and cared so much for women's opinions that he often called on old flames for judicial advice. Please.), but it wasn't even wrong like the book. They changed almost everything, took away Mary's narrative voice, spent the first hour making Anne a bitch and the second hour making her the BESTEST SISTER EVER OMG, and then added a completely impossible rape that not only decidedly DIDN'T HAPPEN but didn't even fit with the the story.

And hey half-assed the incest. Please. If you're going to do incest, do it right, dammit. Although the moment when the entire audience (who clearly didn't read the book) realized it and went "Eww..." together was pretty awesome. :D

But I still didn't hate it. I guess I'm enough of a girl that I can be distracted by pretty dresses and crowns.

Finally- Mary didn't take Elizabeth in and raise her. Really, really, REALLY NOT.

And also? Catherine of Aragon kicks ass. I want to be her.

Thoughts on The Other Boleyn Girl are forthcoming...

...but for now I will just say that wow, I should never not read the FOJG message boards for a couple of days.

Because I guess when the JG of FOJG shows up in a video entitled "I'm F****** Ben Affleck"? The grandmas do not react well and some major shit goes down.

Meanwhile, I laughed and I laughed.

Oprah's Book Club must die

Because every time she updates, I get 16 billion housewives foaming at the mouth and I want to start throwing things at them (preferabbly something like a harder, more intelligent book. Maybe in hardcover.)

An because she picks such weird titles, it took me a couple times to get it, too, because everybody would rush up to me and be like, "OMG NEW EARTH WHERE IS IT!?!?!" and I'd be all, "What? Leave me alone. God, I'm trying to shop here." They should have specified "The Bright Orange Book that People Are Buy Up Like It Will Show Them The Way Out of Their Loveless Sexless Suburban Marriages", and then I would have been able to tell them right where it was.