No alarms and no surprises

Mmm.

I don't really know what to say. It's 9:00 and I'm headed to bed - I have to be awake at 3:45am to go to work. Time is something I don't have enough of lately. Here I am, Queen of Halloween, and I still don't have a costume. This year just doesn't seem to have dress-up written anywhere on the agenda. Even more bogus than that is that I'm not even going to be able to get around to pumpkin carving. My very great plan was to carve Billy Corgan's face and then Nov. 1, smash it on the streets while laughing at my own cleverness. Sure, I've done that in the past, but this year I was going to spend a whole lot more time on the carving. You know, get the image just right. I mean, it's a fucking tradition, man! My heart is broken.

Maybe I'll just go out and buy "Zeitgeist", then smash that somewhere. It may not have the same meaning, but at least it'll make me feel better. Yeah, that's right; the die-hard Pumpkins fan hates "Zeitgeist". Corgan chases the dollars. Like, let's be honest here, would the Beatles still be the Beatles if only Paul and Ringo were in it? Would it still be the Beatles if they threw in two randoms to replace John and George? No, I don't think so, either. So, why is it cool for Billy to add in some punk-esque nobody to stand-in as D'Arcy, and some other random talent to be the new James? It isn't. Thus, "Zeitgeist" is a shitty album, and I'm eternally angry with my old friend B.C. You can't even really call it a Smashing Pumpkins album; it's more like a Jimmy and Billy project that numbskulls half-liked. My case? Rested, but this is old news anyways.

Thank you, goodnight.

ordinary day

I got caught checking out boobs today.

No joke! She was wearing an extremely low-cut shirt and had huge fake plastic jugs that were literally spilling out of her top. She was either a trophy wife or a porn star. Or both - it's possible. Anywho, I was just glancing, you know, because they kind of caught my attention (read: they were huge), and just as I locked onto them...yeah. I got caught. She didn't say anything; she didn't give me a dirty look. She was completely indifferent. I'm thinkin' she's probably used to it. And, the way I look at it, the titties were crying for attention.

I'm not gay, by the way. Just clarifying.

I've been downloading a buttload of new tunage lately. Sometimes I feel mildly guilty for being a music pirate, but then I just remind myself that I'm neither raping nor pillaging with my piracy, and I feel better.

I'm wearing flannel pyjamas to bed tonight. It's beginning to look a lot like...winter.

apology

My level of neglect is epic recently.

Whatever.

So, happy Thanksgiving. (Americans = confused) I stuffed myself to an embarrassing degree tonight on various festive dishes. I don't do the Thanksgiving thing, so I just invited myself over to my mom's place and made her feed me. She was happy to oblige. At my place, the leftover almond roca from last Christmas has found it's way back to the candy dishes of the coffee table. I'm the perfect hostess.

Tonight I discovered that I do not like Björk even half as much as I thought I did (I'd still procreate with her, though, because our children would be Icelandic and AWESOME). However, I rediscovered that I do now, and always will, have a love for Thom Yorke that is too great to describe. I suppose I could compare it to a magical tiramisu, that you can neither consume nor see, because it's just that awe-inspiring. Makes sense? No? Well, to me it does.

So, what am I thankful for anyways? I'm thankful for 2 for $25 CDs, late university drop dates, and people like you.

I smell like coffee and dead bird.

P.S. I voted. Did you?