Seriously? The sexy librarian?

GAH. I am so worked up that John McCain, whom I previously mostly supported and even received e-mails from him (his campaign, not himself personally, ala Obama and Scarlett) has SCREWED OVER THE ENTIRE PARTY with his ridiculous n00b, barely postpartum, obviously pandering VP candidate.

And now I’m tired and watching National Treasure and rediscovering why I am a history major. Because clearly why pursue law school when one can run around in pretty dresses doing God knows what but presumably she has a doctorate and is also “trained to handle delicate documents” and whatevs, I just want to be the waitress that Nicolas Cage picks up and impregnates next.

What? WHAT? SO I DON’T SHOOT HIGH. My parents are kind of proud of me, dammit.

Oh, also? Imladris is home and there is much jubilation and drinking. Can you tell?

Today was kind of boring, except for the part with Colleen coming home and the drinking. I’m wicked tired, had to get up super-early for Mass because I missed it yesterday.

Discovered two things during Mass- one, while I adore St. Eugene’s and would never, ever leave, I kind of TOTALLY wish we had a pretty church like St. Monica’s. And not just because I found myself mentally cataloguing all the late Gothic architectural elements (because that actually got distracting when I was writing an essay in my head about the transept instead of concentrating on the Lamb of God), but because it’s all big! and pretty! and churchy! And there is a real baptismal fountain instead of a Jacuzzi and some palm fronds.

(Ugh. I kind of hate my parish sometimes when I actually stop to think about it.)

Second, it’s really weird to see someone who you’ve kind of accepted as “your” priest being pastor somewhere else. I don’t know why, but it didn’t really occur to me that the guy I see being my pastor several times a week (well, at least the last month since the alcohol stopped working so much for the grief) would be saying Mass this morning somewhere else. Not sad or anything, like when Father Ken left, but just…weird.

Also, Padre? Why when I have nowhere to be is Mass over in 49 freaking minutes but this morning when I had to change and get to work you rambled about St. Peter for like THE WHOLE HOUR? Not cool, dude. Not cool.

But I got to work on time and goofed off with Derrick for awhile (There was Madonna. And dancing.) and completely restrained myself from throwing bags of coffee at the bikers (oh yes, they were plural) who ordered iced coffee but really wanted and iced flavored latte and dear, Lord, HOW IS IT THAT I DON’T HAVE A MASTERS YET!?!??!

I’m going to go have a Manhattan. Have a lovely sleep-in tomorrow. Unless you have to work, in which case your life sucks and my prayers are with you.


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