I didn't get called in to substitute today, which is good because I have a LOT on my mind right now:
* The naming of the new Doctor in Doctor Who, who is very attractive and a good (if relatively unknown) actor, but whose arrival means the inevitable departure of David Tennant, who it took me AGES to accept in the wake of Christopher Eccleston's leaving the role, and how long it will take me to warm up to this one.
* Netflix, which insists on sending me the WRONG DVDs, thus trapping me a whole season behind on Doctor Who, which is really very cruel considering my temperament.
* The word "temperament," which really should be spelled "temperment." Right?
* The LSAT, and which books would be best to help me pass it.
* Which grad school I should go to, and whether I should go full time (to get through it quickly) or part time (so I can continue working and not be horribly broke).
* My lovely friend Emme, who is usually wonderful, but for mysterious and possibly sinister reasons has switched the Journalism Reunion Party from this Friday to this Thursday, which means I CAN'T GO because if I have to work on Friday I cannot be hungover, and getting back from New York at 3 A.M. is not wise when you have to deal with children.
* Work, because with my luck I won't have it on Friday, meaning I could have gone to the aforementioned party, and will leave me bitter and sad.
* My little brother, and why he finds it endlessly entertaining to unravel my knitting, especially since he knows I'm doing it to make money.
* Typewriters. I want a red Selectric typewriter (like the dear departed Hunter S. Thompson wrote on) or a beautiful old Underwood model, but they are all over $500, and I don't have that sort of money (or any, really), so I can only stare longingly at the pictures and DREAM.
* My birthday, which is tomorrow. I don't like birthdays. Well, I like other peoples' birthdays, but not my own. I never have a party, because most of my friends hate each other for fairly complicated reasons, and anyway they all live so damn far away that the idea itself would be ridiculous. Anyway, getting older sucks. Even when you're not that old.
* The death of Jett Travolta, John Travolta's son, which is really sad and awful, but probably doesn't warrant the attention it's getting.
* Dinner. One of my Resolutions for the New Year is to cook dinner a few nights a week, since I am famously bad in the kitchen (ask me about the time I exploded five potatoes in the microwave before someone informed me I needed to put holes in them, or the Exploding Sausage Incident, or the Stinky Salmon Episode) but since my parents are vegan I have to cook food that they'll actually eat. So I'm puzzling over meal choices for the evening.
* Knitting, which I'm actually not very good at, or at least not as good as I previously imagined.
* How exactly I can manage to buy this really gorgeous Prada dress I saw online, which is $3,000 but I NEED. Hell, I'll wear the thing to the damn grocery store. I'll SLEEP in it.
* How I can arrange running into James Franco in said Prada dress, possibly while carrying a beautiful typewriter, and so charm him with my wit and typing skills that he marries me, so I can afford all the shit I want to buy and be able to go to law school without a damn loan.
* My book, which is very easy to write in my head while I'm falling asleep, but impossible to type up when I actually sit down to work.
* My notebooks, which I've just realized are not where I put them.
* The Hunter S. Thompson audio discs, and how I can obtain them and listen to them and become even creepier in my love for him.
Deep Thoughts on this Monday in January. And while there are Serious Political Issues that no doubt warrant more attention than the things I'm focusing on (like Obama being back in Washington, or the nightmare going on in Gaza), I prefer to devote my brain energy to the above topics, because A) they are easier to deal with, and B) there are much smarter people dealing with Serious Issues.
It's really effing cold in my house.
- LV
PS Behold the New Doctor:
Oh, David Tennant, why must you leave us?! I am bereft.
* The naming of the new Doctor in Doctor Who, who is very attractive and a good (if relatively unknown) actor, but whose arrival means the inevitable departure of David Tennant, who it took me AGES to accept in the wake of Christopher Eccleston's leaving the role, and how long it will take me to warm up to this one.
* Netflix, which insists on sending me the WRONG DVDs, thus trapping me a whole season behind on Doctor Who, which is really very cruel considering my temperament.
* The word "temperament," which really should be spelled "temperment." Right?
* The LSAT, and which books would be best to help me pass it.
* Which grad school I should go to, and whether I should go full time (to get through it quickly) or part time (so I can continue working and not be horribly broke).
* My lovely friend Emme, who is usually wonderful, but for mysterious and possibly sinister reasons has switched the Journalism Reunion Party from this Friday to this Thursday, which means I CAN'T GO because if I have to work on Friday I cannot be hungover, and getting back from New York at 3 A.M. is not wise when you have to deal with children.
* Work, because with my luck I won't have it on Friday, meaning I could have gone to the aforementioned party, and will leave me bitter and sad.
* My little brother, and why he finds it endlessly entertaining to unravel my knitting, especially since he knows I'm doing it to make money.
* Typewriters. I want a red Selectric typewriter (like the dear departed Hunter S. Thompson wrote on) or a beautiful old Underwood model, but they are all over $500, and I don't have that sort of money (or any, really), so I can only stare longingly at the pictures and DREAM.
* My birthday, which is tomorrow. I don't like birthdays. Well, I like other peoples' birthdays, but not my own. I never have a party, because most of my friends hate each other for fairly complicated reasons, and anyway they all live so damn far away that the idea itself would be ridiculous. Anyway, getting older sucks. Even when you're not that old.
* The death of Jett Travolta, John Travolta's son, which is really sad and awful, but probably doesn't warrant the attention it's getting.
* Dinner. One of my Resolutions for the New Year is to cook dinner a few nights a week, since I am famously bad in the kitchen (ask me about the time I exploded five potatoes in the microwave before someone informed me I needed to put holes in them, or the Exploding Sausage Incident, or the Stinky Salmon Episode) but since my parents are vegan I have to cook food that they'll actually eat. So I'm puzzling over meal choices for the evening.
* Knitting, which I'm actually not very good at, or at least not as good as I previously imagined.
* How exactly I can manage to buy this really gorgeous Prada dress I saw online, which is $3,000 but I NEED. Hell, I'll wear the thing to the damn grocery store. I'll SLEEP in it.
* How I can arrange running into James Franco in said Prada dress, possibly while carrying a beautiful typewriter, and so charm him with my wit and typing skills that he marries me, so I can afford all the shit I want to buy and be able to go to law school without a damn loan.
* My book, which is very easy to write in my head while I'm falling asleep, but impossible to type up when I actually sit down to work.
* My notebooks, which I've just realized are not where I put them.
* The Hunter S. Thompson audio discs, and how I can obtain them and listen to them and become even creepier in my love for him.
Deep Thoughts on this Monday in January. And while there are Serious Political Issues that no doubt warrant more attention than the things I'm focusing on (like Obama being back in Washington, or the nightmare going on in Gaza), I prefer to devote my brain energy to the above topics, because A) they are easier to deal with, and B) there are much smarter people dealing with Serious Issues.
It's really effing cold in my house.
- LV
PS Behold the New Doctor:
Oh, David Tennant, why must you leave us?! I am bereft.
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