I Remember When, In A Lover's Whisper You Said No Other Man Would Ever Share Your Bed

Current Song: "Reprise" -- DeVotchKa

It suddenly came back to me in a rushing flood of memory, how much I hate Oxford Collapse. What is with people liking this band? Besides for the irony of their drummer being an obvious Village People reject in too-short denim shorts? I'm afraid they're growing up to be The Next Big Thing In Indie Rock and that makes me hate America. Their music sucks, their stage presence is non-existent, and pretty much the only interesting part of their live show was when Keith Murray got onstage and sang instead of the jackass with the guitar who can't dance. And that's not just because I want to do it with Keith Murray (because I'm generally attracted to gay and therefore unavailable men.)

I'm glad I bought interesting things when I had money. Like plane tickets home for Christmas, and DVDs of American Dad. And opera tickets, all the opera tickets.

I'm afraid to go to sleep due to lingering fear over the nightmares I had last night. Also I took Wellbutrin too late in the day and it's technically an upper. Also I passed out this afternoon and got quite the nap in.

My cat is spooning with a book and it's really quite adorable. He's got a weird thing for sitting on, lying on, and apparently snuggling with my book collection. He prefers compendiums of The Onion, but apparently is also quite fond of the Encyclopedia of Ghosts and Spirits.

Speaking of which, I kind of hate Rosemary Ellen Guiley. Nobody cares about this but me.

Also I just discovered the photographic artwork of Sir Simon Marsden and I'm kind of in love.
This is what I want erected in my honor when I die.
Meredith would kill me for letting that in the house, but I WANT IT.