Bite me.

I've got, like, nothing for you tonight. Honestly. I don't recall doing anything today. It's weird.

Let's see. I know I put pictures on Flickr. I ate dinner. I wrote my photos project. I cleaned the bathroom. I went to Target (Again. I shouldn't be allowed in upper-class discount stores. It is simply not fiscally responsible.). I bought pillows. I put the pillows on my bed. Other than that? Notsomuch.

But I guess that is kind of a lot.

One major thing I haven't done? Studied for my personality test in 14 hours. I suck.

Got two A's this morning, though. And I'm feeling good about that. Less so about the aforementioned personality test.

Boy, you all must be sick and tired of the classes rundown by now, aren't you? You're probably looking forward to winter break more than I am.

Because then Teh Major Amusement that makes it to the blog is something like plucking my eyebrows and seeing how many days before I start ignoring makeup and wearing sweatshirts. I think it took three days last year.

Just letting you know.

I know you're shocked, but I did read a book today, Supreme Conflict. I didn't love it as much as The Nine, mostly because it wasn't organized as well and at the beginning was kind of confusing because they were jumping from justice to justice and expecting the reader to keep up. But then it kind of calmed down and focused mostly on O'Connor's leaving and Roberts and Alito.

This is good for me, because they're the only two I really remember. I was seven when Stevens (the last new one) was confirmed in 1994. Not so much into the Constitution then. By 2005, I was old enough to remember a CSI being preempted Roberts' nomination was announced. You don't forget that shit. Okay. It was a rerun. But I was still mad.

Interesting. There was a kind of cute part about Alito's daughter in it- she was home alone when Andy Card called to offer her dad the nomination. She told him he was at work, and then IM'd her brother saying that some guy from the White House had called. He asked her who it was, but she didn't remember who it was. So he ran through a list of people it could have been until she recognized a name.

And it kind of struck me that, if my dad was nominated to the Supreme Court, The Empress would forget the name of the guy who called. And then I'd have to yell at her. I'll bet the Alito boy yelled something like "Dumbass!" at poor little Laura.

But that would be my family.


Oooh, I have links tonight!!! I know, you're thrilled. But they're clogging my favorites, so you're getting them.

Let the self-loathing begin now. Um. Yeah. My two A's don't look so intelligent now.

Look, I am no happier about the Ted/Robin hookup last night than the next guy, but it did not deserve a jeer. The poll at the end of the article is supportive, though. Yay, Mother fans (I almost wrote MotherBoy. The Arrested Development groupie in me.)

Continuing with our SCOTUS theme tonight, the Supreme Court agrees to hear 2nd Amendment case. Oh, great. The one instance where I don't think packing the Court with conservatives is a good idea.

So now I really have to marry well. I guess even working my ass off to let my ovaries rot while I sleep with my doctorate at night isn't enough anymore.

I'm so disturbed by this. Not the fact that she's a crazy, but the fact that the phrases "ex-lover" and "Bill Nye" were used in the same sentence, in conjunction with one another. I need to go take a shower in rubbing alcohol or something.

Seriously. Enough with the porn before 10 a.m.

God. Really.

The internet, baby. Learn to love it. And leave me the hell alone.

Links today, because I have to go study, but I'm too anal retentive to lose NaBloPoMo on the third day.

Most importantly, Sweeney Todd in EW. *is dead*

Cate Blanchett is pregnant. My sister was so excited about this she had to tell me over the phone, because, in her words, "More Cate Blanchetts in the world make it a better place!" In related new, The Fuggen Age. Hahahaha.

Yes, Hayden, in this world of Sudanese genocide, mass terrorism, famine, and AIDS, those dolphins really need your help. A round of applause, people. She's doing some good.

I want this coat. Yes, I now cannot afford Target. *sigh*

I'm going to go figure out what the hell a GABA receptor is.

What sadist at blogger decided I needed a title every day???

I'd just like to let you all know that I form unnatural bond with the families that you know are going down during the first five miinutes of Criminal Minds. This ridiculously happy family is doing homework, practicing the piano, talking about having another baby (for no good reason other than to make you go, "Awww..."), and now they're being bludgeoned to death. And that makes me sad.

Yes. I suppose I could stop watching. But then CBS will have won.


Okay, look. I'd really, really love to write something creative and funny and interesting that would make people think that I'm at least slightly more than a sucking waste of oxygen on this planet, but I've got nothing.

Because it is the middle of October. And by the middle of October, unless you are a pillow, an exam review, or a rich guy looking for an heir (Who needs conversation or common interests? I like being by myself. You just shut up and put me in the will and we'll get along great, peaches.), I can't express how much I don't care.

(Yes. I turn into a slut in October.)

I know that shouldn't be, because I'm young and am supposed to be having fun and all that crap that they tell you right along with "High school's the greatest time of your life!" and "No, really, you're really pretty!"

But I'm really, really tired. And really, really sick of physiological psychology and Egyptian civilization.

Ooh, but I did update my other blog this afternoon. Totally *not* when I was supposed to be learning about plate tectonics in oceanography. That would have been irresponsible.

Love in the Time of Cholera trailer hits the web. I'm sorry, where the hell is Liev Schreiber??? Hey, I read the damn thing, and his character shows up an *awful* lot. He clearly needs to be in the freaking trailer. *grumble*

Jorja Fox on why she's leaving CSI. Okay. I'm torn between being all "I don't care why, as long as you're gone," and outraged that someone would voluntarily leave CSI. They could kill me and I'd still show up with donuts or something just to hang around the set. Of course, I'm sad, but still.

I'm off to make Pharaoh Flashcards. (Ha! That almost sounds fun!)

Why John Edward should be running for President instead of John Edwards.

Because he could look the country straight in the eye an tell us that Iraq is going swimmingly and we're all okay and gas prices are totally going down and thousands and thousands of overweight ethnic women will COMPLETELY BUY IT.

God. Crossing Over is my new favorite show.

He just told an Italian woman from New York that she had a large family and passed down kitchen appliances. And the woman was flabbergasted 'cuz OMG MY HUSBAND MUST HAVE TOLD HIM THAT!?!?!?!? God knows that there's no way he could tell that an Italian family would have a bunch of kids and maybe be frugal.

*sigh*

I love morons. They make such good TV.

(Oh great. Now they're crying. I love it when they cry.)

I have to be back in school in like sixteen hours, so I'm just going to do some links and then go wallow. (Oh, I'm kidding. I'm kind of happy.)

You need to find yourself a girl, mate.

I don't know where to look. It doesn't matter. It's all good.

Okay, whoever did the cover of this DVD set shaved about twenty lbs off of ALL of them. Bergan has a waist, y'all, and Spader hasn't looked like that since Secretary.

Lack of Title is Acknowledged, and Quickly Forgotten.

Today on Cuteoverload.com...no, no, I'm kidding, just cleaning out the icons.

Now please hold your astonishment, but I do not have a whole lot to comment upon today. Nothing terribly worthy has happened lately.

Except I went to lunch at Panera yesterday, and the power went out as soon as I walked in. So I went to Noodles instead.

With the literally unwashed masses from Bayside, Whitefish Bay, and Fox Point.

Teh Storms Of Teh Apocalypse (it's been a slow summer here in southeastern Wisconsin) had knocked out most of the electricity along those power grids. Lots of knotty hair and cranky kids.

Good food, though. And it was with my one friend who isn't getting married, having a baby, or doings something fantastic. (Not that Caitlin's life isn't fantastic, but you know what I mean...)

As I am living at home, alone, and probably couldn't get impregnated with a damn turkey baster, this was comforting to me.

Who knew I used to hang out with a pre-slutty crowd???



Mostly stolenLinks to comment upon in the absence of real life:

Missing Romanov bodies found? Dammit! *I* was supposed to find them! And write my dissertation on it! And set the historical world on fire! And probably run away with my hot, newly-rich-because-of-my-discoveries professor/advisor/colleague!!!

(Okay. I just added that last part. But it's very Indiana Jones, don't you think???)

*sigh* Fine. I guess if I can't discover them myself, I'm glad they found them so the Anastasia foolishness can finally end (It was Marie, dumbass. Vertebrae don't lie.) and they can all be laid to rest together.

More KidNation crap. Now, I'm not a mom, but I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't sign anything saying that the fruit of my womb could be harmed, screwed, and killed all for a TV show.

Even if it meant I would be invited to CBS events with all the CSI stars. No, really.

Well played, Luciana Bozan Barroso Damon. I love Matt Damon. So hard. Not in the way I love Johnny Depp or even George Clooney (we'd get along fine if he'd just keep his damn mouth shut), but I would totally marry him and have him donate some "killer DNA to my womb", as the girls on gofugyourself.com so astutely put it.

Oh honey, no. Alan. Darling. Do you know what I put up with for you??? The ribbing, the jokes, the "Oh, you wouldn't like him, you're weird? Why do you insist on continuing to make this difficult for me?!?!?!?

Gah. The things I'll do for love.

I have a burrito from Qdoba. I go to eat it.

Maybe he'll grow up to be a felon, like his godfather.

I haven't worked in a couple of days, and frankly I've just barely had time to decompress. It was not a good work two days week, my friends. Not at all.

After the marathon awakeness that constituted Tuesday/Wednesday, I was no mood to deal with customers all day Wednesday. Apparently, it had been busy on Tuesday (frankly, I think it was less that than the managers just really wanted to leave and go to Harry Potter), so there were huge stacks of books to be reshelved, and I really did not feel like doing it.

I was so tired I got very emotional when the book being read during toddler time was about this squid that gets eaten because he's conceited. Why must all children's books be cruel???
*tear*

And I was even in less of a mood to deal with a guy who asked me if Crohn's disease and irritable bowel syndrome were the same things, and then asked if I thought this cookbook, specified for those dealing with IBS, was any good. I'm sorry. What part of "I'm a nineteen-year-old who doesn't care what's going on in her body" did you not get??? New IPT Guy who wa shelving in the corner and smirking politely at my embarrassing predicament was enjoying himself, though.

So Thursday, I'm thinking I'm golden. I'm all alone, the cafe is dead on Thursdays, and I can play my cell phone. But no. The god of free drink coupons have it in for me, and it ws hugely busy all freaking night long. I had like ten minutes to breath, and I know I didn't get everything finished on the closing list. I really, really did not care.

They felt so badly for me that they let me make myself a drink for free. Yay.

I'm not conceited enough (like that poor little squid...) to think that you all really care about what I've been reading, but it is my blog, so I'm just going to run down some of the latest.

Most importantly, Green Darkness, by Anya Seton, which teaches us the valuable literary lesson that you should never ever have guilty sex with a priest because in five hundred years when you are reborn you're still going to be paying for it.

The Secret of Lost Things was very good, as was The Starter Wife (chick lit), and Forgive Me, in that forgettable way.

Some links (mostly stolen), that I feel compelled to comment upon.

All right, these kids are just adorable. My favorite part was the "What do the little letters at the end mean? Those are the states. Oh, I'm impressed. I don't know what "wi" means..."

Teehee. Orlando Bloom laughing like a girl. Eat shit Jennifer, it's carrots!!! Seriously ROFLMAO. And I don't do that often.

Okay, so this doesn't look like it's going to suck as much as I originally assumed. I'll be there on September 21.

Not as there as I will be for Invasion, though. The creepy saint-love will not die, my friends, it will not die.

My Lolcat of the day-Hay be nice, Emokitteh is sensitive. omgsofunny.

We have muffins. I go in search of them.

Oh. My God. I got a D on my midterm and now my parents won't love me anymore.

That has nothing to do with me (I got an A- *and the villagers rejoice*), but rather what my TA told us people say when they get really bad grades and why he has a You-Cannot-Email-Me-For-24-Hours-To-Discuss-Your-Grade policy, presumably to let all the crazies calm down and discover their own self-worth outside of History 204.

I found this quite amusing, because if you add "And I'm going to die alone" to the end, it's kind of like my mantra for living. Really. From those time tests in first grade (I was convinced that if I didn't answer all those questions in the three minutes they gave me I would be sent to an orphanage.) right up through the ACT (OMG I WON'T GET INTO COLLEGE AND MY PARENTS ARE REALLY SMART AND WHAT AM I GOING TO DO I'M GOING TO DIE ALONE BECAUSE NO ONE LOVES A STUPID PERSON GAH!!!!!!!), I have been a catastrophiser from day one.

Also got an ambiguous but still very good grade on logic test (We get a grade scale on Monday, until then apparently we have no actual value. Which is very existential if you think about it. What does {insert grade here} really mean?), and those supposedly suicide-inducing proof thingys? Um. Really easy. So I'm doing okay and convinced that my parents will love me until finals at least.

It has come to my attention that many different members of my family would like to take to the road in the pursuit of some hyped up Kerouac-esqe dream, (along with the far more disturbing thought that my little sister wants to name her first-born Skeet), and I feel compelled to give them a little talking to.

1.) No.

2.) We are not traveling people. Remember our trip to New York three years ago? No. Didn't think so. Because it DIDN'T HAPPEN.

3.) We have never been a traveling people. I'm very sure that if our ancestors hadn't been lured from the motherland with promises of something other than potatoes, they would have sat on their asses in Sligo for generations and I'd have a pretty accent now and people wouldn't always be going, "Wow. You're really pale."

4.) Just no.

We shall deal with the whole Skeet issue another day. But believe me, it shall be dealt with before I have to stand in front a priest and pledge to uphold the moral health of something named Skeet.

I have also been informed that there will be green-drinking a plenty on Sunday evening, something I'm always thrilled with at the end of along week. Along with green food. I'm not sure how it will be green, and I'm really hoping that Mickey remembers that some of us have compromised immune systems, but I'm sure it will be tasty.

Other people's lives that are clearly more interesting than mine---

It just gets better and better. I cannot tell you How. Much. I. Love. This. Story. It made my ENTIRE year.

You could have had adorable little Edward Norton babies (imagine how cute!!!), and you chose this instead. Some people are too stupid to reproduce.