• I was literally feverish last weekend, rushing through my True Blood recap for The Boob so I could get a bit of sleep on Monday before leaving for Atlanta and Conan. The fever meant that everything about the experience--the oppressive heat, Reggie Watts's act, the beach balls, the giant inflated bat, Evander Holyfield, Jack McBrayer--was very surreal. The fact that the Fox Theatre's auditorium is built to look like an Arabian courtyard under a night sky with actual twinkling stars and moving clouds did not help. There was an additional odd element in Conan's singing--well, anything for that matter but especially "Poke Salad Annie," since there were probably a few people in the audience that have actually eaten poke salad. I'd be surprised if Conan has. But we had fun and I think Coco and crew did, too.
  • I finished reading Drood finally. Drood, by Dan Simmons, is a 800-page spooky story and I'm not sure I understand the ending totally. I'm not sure if I don't get it or if I'm willfully not getting it because doing so would involve accepting that the end is a few streets over from "it was all a dream." I'm just going to pretend that it's about purgatory. But I do have one question, which was not answered to my satisfaction: Wilkie, what was in the servants' staircase?!


  • I saw some movies:


  • Mother's Little Helpers--How to make me watch anything:



    The description of the movie sounded like some sort of Loverboy sex comedy from the 80s, but the tone was different from what I was expecting and there were some great performances in this. Gallner was perfect as always, but also good was Sarah Hyland, among others.

    Splice--There is a certain part that has upset some people, I know, but I found an earlier part, when Elsa tries to cure Dren's "species confusion," much more upsetting. I thought the characterization was paper-thin. One of Conan's writers said that you can always tell when a comedian bombed a joke because they bust out a "shit's crazy, though." That's what the idea that Splice provokes discussion about genetic engineering or abortion or family is like to me, in that it provokes discussion only so far as "Genetic engineering...shit's crazy, though." It may refer or allude to these things but when we get there, it doesn't seem to have very much to say. When we have a discussion, the audience shouldn't have to provide all the conversation. TL;DR: I wasn't very impressed by this.

  • Personal life stuff...is personal. I have some stuff going on. Legal stuff. Idk, I can't really talk about it, for legal reasons. But anyway, in the actual personal part, as in my feelings, let me just say that I've seen and read and heard from some of you about your feelings--feelings of despair, feelings of sadness, etc--and in the manner of the famous bit from The History Boys, consider this part as my hand taking yours.
I was googling "weeping angels" the other day, as one does, when I stumbled upon this list of scariest TV characters. Now it's all subjective, of course, but I thought it was a pretty good list. But then again, maybe that's because it names the only thing on TV that's ever really scared me--the Peacock family.

[X-Files spoilers follow, although I don't know why I'm spoilering this since it's been a looooong time since it was on TV and this episode's been repeated umpteen times since then. (Salomé, say "since" again.) Although my mom did ask me last week if I "still watch the X-Files."]

The pride. The love... )

That's one of the things I've noticed that always scares me--the notion that there is no place to hide, there is no escape. Nightmare on Elm Street runs on that energy. I slept with the light on while reading American Psycho not because of the variety of grotesque incidents recounted--although that didn't help--but because of this part: ..that if she had gone to Nell's or Indochine or Mars or Au Bar instead of M.K., if she had simply not taken the cab with me to the Upper West Side, that this all would have happened anyway. I would have found her.

Yeah, I don't feel so good now. (Also, I have "Against All Odds" stuck in my head now.) I need a palate cleanser. Oh, I know! I posted this on Tanis's facebook a coupla weeks ago and it's been making me laugh ever since.



It may also be the reason why I tell my Boston every day that he's the most beautiful creature I've met.

My thoughts on last night's Glee, briefly (no real spoilers):


*I'm glad they acknowledged how terrible "Run, Joey, Run" is.
*I loved the Casino reference not in spite of, but because it was so obscure and nerdy. Because I am also obscure and nerdy. First Community, now Glee--Scorcese, I think you might be going somewhere!
*If Brittany is not the best, then that's because Puck is.
*If Brittany is not the best, that's unpossible.
*There's never an excuse for stirrup pants!
wolfpangs: (made a swiveling chair--now I nap)
Five hundred nervous fits later, I finally got my first paper for Early Republic back:

Ooh, suspense... )

And in other American history news, I finished Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter today and while I'm not sure how I feel about the very end, it was a fun read.
This was a week full of surprises! First, I watched the activities at Gobbler's Knob (heeheehee) live online. I watched it full screen on my monitor at work while B sat there next to me reading the paper. It was longer than I thought it would be (TWSS), mainly because there are like, 20 guys in the Inner Circle and everyone has to be introduced. Then they opened the door in the tree stump and brought forth the famous timorous beastie who, of course, saw his shadow. [Gen. Beauregard Lee, the southern version, did not see his shadow. He does, however, hold a doctorate in southern groundology. I'm jealous of a rodent's fake degree.] Some time later, B goes, "When are they going to do the groundhog thing?"

"Um, an hour ago."
"What?!"
"Yeah, it was like an hour ago. I was watching it on the computer."

She thought I'd been watching a movie. I don't know what movies she thinks I watch that involve a bunch of men in top hats handling a groundhog.

After that, I rushed home to catch the Oscar nomination press conference, which went by quickly. I have Basterds in my heart, but I'm amenable to The Hurt Locker taking the top spot. I'm undecided on Best Actor. For Best Supporting Actor, my bb Christoph Waltz, obviously. I have absolutely no opinion on the Actress categories and in fact, am kind of whelmed by the nominations. I think it speaks to the dearth of opportunities for actresses that those are the best choices they could come up with. Everything else, I'm mostly ambivalent about except I'd like The White Ribbon to win in its categories.

And then FOB maybe is/maybe isn't together anymore? Between that and NKOTB's appearance on Fallon, my inner teenager had a very tumultuous week. I am kind of bummed about it, I guess, but I've had the feeling since "What A Catch" that the end was near.

Thursday, I skipped my last class and that turned out to be a good thing because my alternator crapped out while I was careening down the interstate. My display dimmed, I noticed the wipers were slow, the radio shut off, and my speedometer plunked to zero. "Are you still able to drive normal speed?" my mom asked after I frantically called her. "I have no idea how fast I'm going!" It was a good thing that I skipped class because if I hadn't, that might have happened much later, when there would have been less help available. They sent a tow truck for me and now I'm driving the "courtesy vehicle," which is a ginormous Crown Vic. With "COURTESY VEHICLE" printed on each side. And an Auburn sticker on the back window. :(

Friday, I awoke to a call from work, asking me to come in and help fix an issue with one of the door locks. "Are you the maintenance man?" my mom asked. Yes, and tech support and human resources investigator.

In two days, my bb Lil Wayne goes to jail for a YEAR. :( x infinity. I'm not sure how this benefits society, but I'm sure someone on Twitter can misspell it for me.



Also, this week I read The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, which was excellent, and saw the movie version, Men That Hate Women, which was less than excellent. It wasn't a bad movie, but I really didn't like some of the choices they made with the story. I understand that they had to condense some of the plot, but they also made changes I was not pleased with and in some cases, didn't seem to be for any reason--like changing the names in Harriet's date book (and the numbers they corresponded with). Why? And I hate the "I'm going to break into the suspect's house to see if I can find anything" trope. What do they expect, a note on the fridge all, "Remember not to mention you killed that girl"? I also thought the characterization of Lisbeth especially was lacking compared to the book, where you get a better sense of her motivations. And man, poor Henrik. Anyway, it was well made, but I preferred the detail you get with the book

I also read Karen Russell's St. Lucy's Home For Girls Raised By Wolves*, but I'll talk more about that later, because now I have to go mine in the sleep caves.

*Now I'm reading Elizabeth Clark's thesis on female werewolves. Eee!
I read Shiver by [livejournal.com profile] m_stiefvater and I really liked it. It's like Twilight if Edward were a werewolf and Bella had friends and purpose and actually acted as a protagonist in her own life and oh yeah, they actually had sex. So...not so much like Twilight after all, I guess. It was a fun Y/A time and Maggie Stiefvater is a lovely person. Her last name is pronounced "Steve Otter," by the way. How I picture Steve Otter, below:



The book starts with Grace's memory of being dragged from her backward swing by a pack of wolves, which had the effect of dislodging a memory I'd misplaced. I was attacked by a wild dog when I was about six. It dragged me away. I had a bite print on my foot for the longest time. I say I misplaced the memory because it wasn't as if it were so traumatizing that I repressed it. Even at the time, I wasn't scared. [At first I was like, "Oh no!" but then I was like, "This is a story." And a good one.] But I hadn't thought about it in years until I read the book.

Now I'm reading Sharp Teeth by Toby Barlow and watching Das weiße Band nervously because I know what Michael Haneke is capable of. I'm also planning to watch The Hurt Locker today (and maybe go Christmas shopping later), so apparently I'm also planning to have the most stressful day possible. Maybe I'll go see Antichrist, too. Or wrestle a bear. Play Operation. On a high wire. That's part of a Rube Goldberg device.

But first, a conversation that pretty much sums up my experience with Avatar:

My Mother Talks To Her (Male) Employee, A Play in 1 Act--

[This employee went to see Avatar with another male employee. They are not a couple.]

Employee: Usually [he] and I talk the whole time during movies [Editor's Note: Ugh], but we didn't say a word.
My mom: Did you hold hands?
Employee: No, but it was so pretty that I wanted to.
Why can't I be loved as what I am--
A wolf among wolves...


As I mentioned in my last entry, I have been so freakin' busy. So busy, in fact, that I've been way more stressed out than I have been in a long time. I've been so stressed out that it's manifested itself in physical symptoms--I've been turning into a monster! I might actually be lycanthropizing.

Speaking of, Sadie has begun to growl. This is how it starts.

The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.


We are working on organizing our thoughts on Inglourious Basterds for Boob Tube, but in short: I loved it, I have a raging crush on Daniel Brühl, my raging crush on August Diehl continues unabated. The equivalent of porn to me, below:



It's clear as black and white, like a fat panda.

Don't think the birth of a panda at San Diego Zoo went unnoticed by me. I get alerts from PNN, yo. By the way, since the earthquake, 25 have been born to the Wolong pandas (currently chillin' at Ya'an). Ugh, this guy.

Sydney Ellen Wade: Oh, Andy, a C minus in Women's Studies?
President Andrew Shepherd: Yeah, well, that class wasn't about what I thought it was about.


Mainly I've been busy with starting school, adjusting to a new school, and trying to construct a schedule I can live with. I finally settled it with women's studies, an American lit class, an online anthropology class, and my favorite, a class on the history of film. We'll be watching Un Chien Andalou (of course), so I can't wait to share my favorite story about it. Hit it, Ebert: I am fond of his practical approach to matters. Warned that angry mobs might storm the screen at the Paris premiere of "Un Chien Andalou," he filled his pockets with stones to throw at them.

PS: I am in women's studies because I wrote down the wrong room number and went to women's studies instead of the class I was supposed to be in. I ended up liking it more, though, so I switched.

We have to live without sympathy, don't we? We can't do that forever. One can't stay out of doors all the time. One needs to come in from the cold.

I read The Spy Who Came In From the Cold. What a book! I dreaded anyone asking me what it was about because all I would have been able to offer is an um-studded babble of "It's about this spy, um, who comes in from the cold...." I had no idea how it was all going to go until the last chapters and the ending knocked me flat, much like the last four words of 1984.

The Gonstad girls are all alike!

I've had an overload of family experiences this week. Last Saturday, we had a party for Sadie's first birthday. During, my dad decided that he and my uncle should take a look at my car, because I couldn't open the hood. (I hit a guy, okay?) They got the hood open, forced some things back into place (after gleefully realizing they'd "have" to chain my car to my dad's truck to do so), and checked the various fluids and whatnot, which were all low (because I couldn't open the hood!). Then my uncle declared the previous italicized statement, because one of my cousins apparently recently brushed off her need for an oil change.

We also had a memorial service for my paternal grandfather on Thursday. Most of us, I don't think, realized that it would also be used as an opportunity to remember our paternal grandmother as well (she passed over a decade ago). That was bad enough (no one was able to mention her without choking up), but they played a slideshow, which featured my dad and siblings with afros, my cousin Jana and me as FAT BABIES!!! (tm, key lime pie), and then a horrific trip through the 80s. I am glad I am nearly unrecognizable in those.
wolfpangs: (fairy)
When I was driving home from The Dark Knight, I was thinking about songs that feature a mysterious man, usually dressed in black, who travels around and either metes out justice or wreaks havoc. Sometimes he does both. Sometimes it seems as if the man is Death, sometimes he may be God or Jesus, and sometimes he is Mephistopheles. Sometimes it's explicit who the man is and sometimes it's left hidden. In addition, many times these songs are full of literary references, like "When The Man Comes Around," which begins and ends with Bible verses. I read an excellent piece a few days ago on Dylan's "Man in the Long Black Coat" (covered below by Joan Osborne) that draws parallels between the lyrics and Nathaniel Hawthorne's novels.

I think there's a long list of songs that can be categorized like this. "Sympathy For The Devil" would be one, I suppose, but I think as a song from the point of view of the mysterious stranger, it's outnumbered by songs that are about him. It's hard to google for this sort of thing, because "man in black" just brings up Cash, whom as you'll see below was no stranger to this type of song himself. Googling "men in black" just brings up crap. Then I get distracted thinking about this kind of character in say, literature and I start thinking about "A Good Man Is Hard To Find" and then "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" And that's before I start thinking about black hats in westerns and before I start debating with myself over whether Patti Scialfa's "Stumbling To Bethlehem" fits, because of the line, "Now there’s this man on the corner in a long black sweater saying 'sinners they will burn forever.'" (Either way, it's a great song and I recommend it.)

So here are a few songs featuring men in black, none of which are done by Will Smith:

Johnny Cash--When The Man Comes Around (Lyrics)

Johnny Cash--God's Gonna Cut You Down (Lyrics)

Nick Cave--Red Right Hand (Lyrics)

Joan Osbourne--Man in the Long Black Coat (Lyrics)

And one for Heath:

Tom Petty--Wildflowers (Lyrics)

I'd also be interested in any songs you can think of that fit.
"You undergraduates who see me for the first time have read your newspapers and heard on the air that I am, at the very least, an ogre — a consorter with communists, a destroyer of the rich, a breaker of our ancient traditions. You think of me perhaps as the inventor of the economic royalist, of the wicked utilities, of the money changers of the temple. You have heard for six years that I was about to plunge the nation into war; that you and your little brothers would be sent to the bloody fields of battle in Europe; that I was driving the nation into bankruptcy, and that I breakfasted every morning on a dish of 'grilled millionaire.' Actually I am an exceedingly mild mannered person—a practitioner of peace, both domestic and foreign, a believer in the capitalistic system, and for my breakfast a devotee of scrambled eggs."

Gotta go be tested on my history skillz shortly. When I get back, I should finish the next batch of scanned photos.

Feeling very optimistic. I had a terrible fit of nihilism (read: crushing depression and/or hopelessness) the other day and it was black black black. Then I saw the first five minutes of The Dark Knight and I was like, "That. I believe in that." In the meantime, my Tumblr has become sort of a chronicle of things to believe in. Reasons to be beautiful. The purpose of the moon. It is working out quite well and I have tumbled myself back into my customary optimism. "...is fear itself." Yes, this.

Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not. Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end. Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm.

There is only one serious question. And that is:

Who knows how to make love stay?

Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to kill yourself. Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and the end of time. Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon.
1. Thursday in my psychology class, I was the only one who knew what the word "phallus" means. It's nice to be distinguished.

2. I realized that I've had a gift card to Belk since Christmas 2006 so I went there last week to use it. The saleswoman offered the store credit card to me, talking up its discounty goodness and then said, "Um, I mean if you're old enough to apply." You know what never gets old? Never getting older.

Speaking of, I have another photo from my tragic hippie past to show. I've been scanning photos, actually, so I have several to share.

3. Stuff White People Like

4. So sad: I could not sleep at all. I got like, four hours of sleep before a blinding headache woke me up. I am so tired that I'm nauseated but I'm not lying down yet because I'm waiting for "Roger"'s shift to start on the radio so I can properly rest.

5. I read Twilight, the teen vampire book, this week. I enjoyed reading it and all but oh whoa, what a Mary Sue. And not just content to be a Mary Sue--Edward, the vamp, is a Gary Stu as well. I am currently reading Joe Hill's Heart Shaped Box. Last night I read a piece he recommended, "There's a Hole in the City," a short story set during the immediate aftermath of September 11. It's a ghost story and I was fully prepared to hate it but it gave me the chills.

The radio show is on so I'm going to go try to rest. I will post those photos later tonight.
This is what scared me away from coke. I have a heart murmur too, yo.
1) O hay, People magazine. Way to be a biter.

2) The cool kids at Fader finally figured out something old people with no fashion sense knew four decades ago--Jerry Garcia is awesome. And also, incredibly underrated by the mainstream media. So, the feature article in the current issue is all about him. They say:

"...we feel Jerry Garcia to be an incredibly relevant force in music right now—for hippies and non-hippies alike. Sonically, you can hear strains of Garcia's influence all over the place, from Cali neo folk to the psych renaissance to straight-ahead rock jams piping out of a Downtown Near You. Fundamentally, Garcia's attitude towards making music—and the attitude adopted by fans of it—really was one of love and acceptance, both of which happen to be timely and wildly underrated ideas for this 21st Century of ours."

Trufax!

3) I've been reading a lot of Chuck Palahniuk lately. I'd never read anything by him, mostly because I'm turned off by his fans. I could do without the legion of "unique snowflake"-quoting icons, kthnx. But overall, I like his work. It's kind of hard to read sometimes--he'll follow up something funny with something heartstoppingly sad. But it's good. I've read Choke, Lullaby, and Haunted so far. I thought the latter was kind of weak overall--I liked the short stories better than the big picture.

4) I've also been reading Jodi Picoult. What? They're near the Palahniuk at the library. When I was reading the last one (The Tenth Circle), it occurred to me that they're women's novels but not in a bad way. What I mean is, the protagonists are usually women and the books deal with so-called women's issues--unwanted pregnancy, rape, etc--but Picoult shows that these things don't just affect one person. And she puts a twist on it, whether it's setting a book in an Amish community or inserting pages from a character's graphic novel into the text.

5) If you haven't seen it, "What the World Eats," Time's excerpt from Hungry Planet, is really fascinating. And okay, it made me cry for some reason. Maybe it's because the Aboubakar family could live for a year on what my boyfriend and I spend on dinner. I bet the Kelloggs never dreamed people in Kuwait would be eating Corn Flakes.

6) And if you haven't heard, BPAL has two Paris-inspired scents that will be available for the duration of her time in jail. A portion of the proceeds does go to charity. Schadenfreude is always free.

7) And if you didn't know, Eli Roth has the biggest dick in Hollywood. [NOT SAFE FOR WORK, SMALL ANIMALS OR GRANDMAS.] Oh, Eli.

And now, a music meme. )
So today I texted one of the musos--

Me: I've been thinking of my time with [Some Band] as something with an end, the beginning of which is approaching. I now think this incorrect. If anything, this is the end of the beginning.
Muso: You can check out but you can never leave.
Me: I'm Tinkerbell to a bunch of musical Lost Boys.
Muso: I'm clapping my hands!

So that made me feel all squishy. Then one of the aestheticians came into the break room. "I was just on al.com and The Strokes are coming."

"Buh? They're coming where?"
"Here!"
"Where here?"
"Sloss!"
"OMG!"

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG. I'm going to see the Strokes next month! I'm also going to see Rose Hill Drive this month and 30 Seconds to Mars next month. And I might go to the Crawfish Boil. And Alabama is finally getting a Sephora next month. Whee!

After all that and four massages, I decided to go get a membership at the video store a few blocks down from work since driving to my home video store is sometimes a journey I don't feel up to taking after work (it's +20 minutes onto my regular drive). I got the distinct impression that the guy at the store was flirting with me and I was pleased to hear that he thinks that Wolf Creek sucked beyond the telling. Finding people that think that is becoming a surprisingly efficient way to make friends. That's how I found the lovely [livejournal.com profile] sarahofthedead, after all. Then, he gave me my rental for free. Sweet! So now I have unrated Hostel-y goodness and oh my gosh, I'd forgotten how pretty Barbara Nedeljakova is. Also, after last month, the lines about the fannypack are infinitely funnier.

I finished Charmed Thirds today and I have to say, I don't get the bad reviews. I didn't really read the bad reviews before--I skimmed since they tend to be spoilery--but reading them now, it's seems they fall into a few categories: people who didn't want Jessica to grow up (read: have sex and/or use the f-word), girls that seem to be under the impression that Marcus is the protagonist and not J, Republicans who are emo because Jessica doesn't like them, people who think every college experience is just like theirs or who have never been to college, and the most popular, people who failed reading comprehension. "I can't believe [something that didn't actually happen in the book but thanks for playing]." It's not perfect--I don't think McCafferty should have tried to do all four years in one book, for one thing. But overall, I enjoyed it.

So in summary, hooray! Today was a good day. And now I'm going to stay in (sleeeepy) and watch horror movies!
I finished A Great and Terrible Beauty this morning. I was so tired that I was nauseated but I had to know how it ended. I was a little disappointed. When I first got into it I was hoping "don't let this be The Craft with corsets," and it was better than that but it felt unfinished. I've since heard that Bray plans to write more about Gemma, the narrator, so I guess that's why it felt unresolved. I do think the story is a good idea and I hope she continues it.

I'm very conscious of the luxury of reading, the luxury of education. Reading this book in particular, I can't help but think of the women who were denied this--the women who only a century ago had their lives decided for them. I can't wait to see what becomes of Gemma now that she's become more aware of her own strength.

From the book: She walks out toward them, an apparition in white and blue velvet, her head held high as they stare in awe at her, the goddess. I don't yet know what power feels like. But this is surely what it looks like, and I think I'm beginning to understand why those ancient women had to hide in caves. Why our parents and teachers and suitors want us to behave properly and predictably. It's not that they want to protect us; it's that they fear us.

As you can imagine, in light of recent events, this is exactly what I needed to hear.

In only tangentially related news, I will be applying for my licensing exam tomorrow. Nervousness! I can't write that I think I'll do okay because I honestly don't know. I just need to start studying like a fiend. But I hate studying. I've always been terrible at it. I just have such an extraordinarily hard time trying to motivate myself into it. I will dig out my review book tonight and try to do something with it. Gah.

I went to the bookstore to pick up a new book because in my hurry to finish this last one, I had neglected to pick up a spare. I chose Everything is Illuminated, which I hope changes my life like those of the people on the back of the dustjacket. On my drive back, the DJ on the local pop station was relating how a girl had called to request a song because the song was stuck in her head and she was trying to study for a test. He asked her what she was studying and she said that she went to massage therapy school and her test was on "proper body mechanics." He asked her what that was and she couldn't tell him. ! Couldn't even give him a stumbling, um-studded answer. He asked her well, is it [pretty good starting definition]? She said, "Something like that."

I was so fucking embarrassed. There are two other schools that teach massage therapy in Birmingham but I'm willing to bet she's attending my alma mater. I almost called in but I made a promise to myself never to speak to Nick Nice, the DJ.

I can't decide whether or not to go see Rilo Kiley. I like their music but...let's just say my white belt's in the shop.

And finally, OMG I will never mock my dad again.
Today was just a good day all around. First, I got a letter from my Senator and he was all, "You want insurance to pay for BC pills? Me, too! Golly, Salome--we don't agree on um, any other issue but we are so of one mind on this! Let's paint each other's nails and talk about boys!" Okay, maybe I made that last part up. But it was a really nice letter and I appreciate his responding to the letter that I totally forgot I sent.

Then, I had the Incredibly Long Class That Never Ever Ends. It's four hours of nonstop nonfun. It is the review for our National Certification exam. Every class, we get a giganto packet that we spend the next three hours doing--matching, multiple choice, fill-in-the-damn-blank. It's like really, really hard elementary school. We're convinced we never learned half this stuff. Our teacher encouraged us to work together so we all pile onto one or two tables and do all the work together. It sounds like this: "So, 13 is C? I thought 5 was C." "What's a sarcomere?" "Wait, Golgi tendon organ? What the hell is that?" "2 is C."

Tonight, our teacher sat down at the table with us while we were working. One of my classmates asked her if it was as hard for her to get through this class as it was for us. "Oh, yes." Turns out that her Monday starts at like, 8 so it's a 14-hour day for her. She dreads it as much as we do and told us that she begged them not to make it a one-day class. Four hours is fine for bodywork but regular class? Eegah. So, she let us out early, after we finished our packet. Don't tell anyone! Teacher: Who here is going to tell on us? Classmate: No one--everyone else has gone home.

Then, I came home to an email from someone that I just adore. Gosh, he's just the greatest. Every time I get an email from him, I just want to turn up "Mono" really loud and dance around. Ahaha...did you miss me? Well, you won't have to miss me much longer. Aaaand, a little birdie told me about some not-missing-me you might be doing a little closer to Fort Awesome. If that happens, I will try to make up for not getting to see any lj friends on this trip. Maybe in *whispers* Boston.

You can all go get something to drink while we wait for Pasha to come to.

Anyway, dearest email sender, you don't have to fake any accents. Your real one already makes me lightheaded and dizzy in the best of ways. I mean, come on. You're like, the dream.

So then I checked my bank account and hello, mysterious money! I love when that happens. Add to that the fact that I got my um, allowance today and whee--internet shopping! I constructed about a billion new concert looks including sweetheart of the rodeo drive, a tribute to sable starr, and a bunch of other stuff that I'll remain top-secret about until their debuts. The boys are just shocked, shocked! that I do so much of my own tour "advancing."

I want a new handbag. Who makes a cute, functional handbag? I don't think I should buy another wristlet from Coach. I luff them but they're not very practical. So, does anyone have any recommendations?

Thennn, after all that, I was reminded that it's almost time for another presents holiday. Yay. That's why I don't get why people full-on loathe Valentine's Day. Duh, it's another day to get presents. Who cares if you have to buy them for yourself? That's when you get what you really want!

So yeah, my life is aces right now. Books to read, chiffon to inhabit, and beautiful boys all up in my inbox. So good! I make a wish every day that good things happen for all of you. Then, I make the smite-people-I-don't-like wish. And that one always works.

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wolfpangs

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