I’d like to contribute more, I really would.

But it’s late and I’m tired and there were scary guys at work and then the police came and wow, doesn’t *Local Town* only hire hot guys? and now I’m going to go eat chocolate and try to stay awake for Craig Ferguson, whom I really must remember to tape because OMG SO FUNNY but SO LATE WTF CBS??? so yeah, this sentence is over.

I give you, a cat. And a baby.

Humorous Pics
Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

You have no womb. Where would you gestate it? Keep it in a box?

I watched most of Monty Python’s Life of Brian this afternoon while spending an hour with Colleen’s the flatiron trying to burn the oil into my hair in an effort to make it halfway presentable. I think it worked, but I burned my forehead and my back is killing me.

Anyway, the quote was funny.

So you know my entry yesterday? Well, in an effort to avoid the Asian-American history flashcards (Do you know who enjoys the whole internment thing less than the Japanese? ME, THAT’S WHO.) and the feminist crap I have to summarize by Monday (Shut up, it weighs on me, dammit.), I followed some of the links. And apparently, it’s a thing. I can’t believe I didn’t ever notice this, because I read that blog, and this kind of hilarity is right up my little alley!!!

Now, I can’t comment on the women other than to say, um, no, no, they’re certainly not.

But the guys? I can’t imagine a situation where it would ever come up, but even if I was, oh, involved in a drunken Dork version of “marry, *insert inappropriate term for coitus here*, or push off a cliff”? Um, like at least three or four of them are going off the damn cliff. I don’t care what the rules are.

So despite the fact that my marriage prospects are significantly less attractive in the law school route (I don’t care what Colleen says, Indiana Jones was an archaeologist and THAT’S CLOSE TO ART HISTORY DAMMIT!!!), *I* become considerably more attractive.

Hmmm. I shall have to weigh this in my decision.

I finally got Boom! Voice from the Sixties from the library, only a semester after I ordered it, but that’s okay because I heart the sixties in all of their crazy glory, so I’m going to go read that and pretend that my parents’ generation didn’t irreparably harm my country and civilization.

I’m not naming names, but…

…at this moment, there are three movies on TV starring gentlemen that I won’t admit to and will deny adoring and yet own almost all of their movies. (So I guess if you want to know who they are, just look at my DVD shelf.) Yeah, that’s embarrassing. And I don’t know what to watch.

Reached stultifying heights of dorkdom last night. I was waiting for Craig Ferguson to come on and flipping channels, when I came across CSPAN 2, and then I laughed a little bit because just that morning, Colleen was saying how CSPAN 2 was just stuff that was Too Boring To Put On CSPAN. But then I realized they were talking to the guy who wrote The Nine.

And then I watched for an hour.

It was interesting, and he was very funny and smart and not as liberal as the critics of his books would have you believe. But my favorite part was at the end when he asked himself a question, about who, if elected, Hilary Clinton would nominate to the Supreme Court. He prefaced his answer by saying that it would be a move of “Clintonian, Machiavellian genius”, which made me laugh far harder than ANYTHING on CSPAN should, because I love the idea that SOMEBODY ELSE understands that THESE PEOPLE ARE CRAZY.

Anyway, he said that Hilary would probably nominate Obama. No, it makes sense. He was president of the law review at Harvard, taught constitutional law for eleven years, and it would get him the hell out of the way in 2012. He can’t really complain, either-it’s the Supreme Court.

It is Machiavellian. And Clintonian.

The Hopelessly Uncool Crowd

Every Friday on the back of my paper there’s a little article with contributions from a rotating assortment of 20-somethings in my city who all talk about what they’re going to do this weekend. Fantastic, fabulous things that usually involve lots of drinking and friends and probably some hooking up without any of the awkward designated driver stuff (Digression: Seriously. Am I the only one who thinks it is more trouble than it’s worth to go out and drink? This is Milwaukee for God’s sakes, you can’t walk anywhere and we have like TWO cabs.)

And because I’m a masochist, I read it every week. And then every week I go back out into the kitchen and think “What the hell, why shouldn’t I eat a brownie for breakfast?”

So today, I’m writing my own.

Friday I’ll be eating vegetarian lasagna…at home. In my kitchen. While watching “Amne$ia” on FOX, because, well, I’m a bottom feeder. Then I’ll probably fall asleep watching Best Week Ever because I suck and am inordinately tired for a perfectly healthy youngish person.

Saturday morning I’ll be washing my hair, drying it with two different towels, and spritzing it (YES IT IS A PROCESS STOP JUDGING ME) ignoring my blues lyrics that I’m supposed to write (and no, not because I’m in some band, but because God HATES ME THAT’S WHY) and probably bake some more brownies. Or coffee cake. Because my mom said she wanted some and dammit, she is ill and I should help her, right??? Then I’ll probably watch some Family Ties on DVD because there is nothing I love more than an ’80s sitcom that deals with pressing, real-life issues like the fact that Mallory maybe wants to sleep with her boyfriend who’s in college and does NO ONE REALIZE THIS IS STATUTORY RAPE!?!?! Then I’ll go to Mass and try really hard to avoid hitting my grandfather with something heavy, like perhaps a hymnal or maybe a candlestick. Hey. I was a server for eight years. I know where they keep the good shit.

Sunday could go two ways- I could work all day, which would suck, or I could pawn my hours off and probably repeat Saturday except without the hair washing because that much cleanliness? Cannot be good. Sunday night I am expecting to get roaringly drunk and watch the Oscars and then cry when Johnny Depp doesn’t win. Oh, and eat some brownies.

I don’t think I’ll get published.

Did go see Definitely, Maybe this afternoon, though. A few thoughts.

-I flippin’ love stories about how parents meet. They’re flippin’ adorable.

-So is Ryan Reynolds. And Abigail Breslin. And Isla Fisher. Indeed, the’re all flippin adorable.

-Kevin Kline is really old. Dude.

-Was not amused that there appeared to be no reason for the divorce. None at all.

-There was a trailer for the new Indiana Jones. I don’t care that he’s old and decrepit. I’m going. It looks awesome.

-There was a trailer for Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day, and holy Christmas on an oceanliner is Pushing Daisies Guy hot.