January 18th, 2005


For some reason the orchestra in my head is playing Partridge in a Pear Tree.

I didn't even tell it to. I was half-dozing on the bus and I opened my eyes at the stop and there it was, la la la. Not the whole thing, even. Just all the verses from Four Calling Birds downward. Killitkillitkillit...

...I think Mum's right. I need to get my eyes checked. I've been getting far too many little-twingy-headaches that turn into sympathetically-twingy-neckaches that become horrible-screeching-migraine-headaches recently. All last semester, a few times a week, and every day last week from Wednesday, and Sunday, and yesterday, and today from the time I left the house. Mum thinks I need glasses; I'm inclined to agree 'cause it only happens when I concentrate on something, ie: the printed word. So.

Yes, sitting in front of a monitor is a bright idea right now, isn't it?

Well, I had to do something to kill time.

Also, I did not do all the reading for my insanely-long Gender and History seminar. Because a) I hung around forty-five minutes the first day of class waiting for the journals to be brought back before realizing that b) hey! Idiot! Your copy card has fifty-eight cents on it and you have no cash!

Frankly I think B is a better excuse. Fortunately it's not *my* seminar day, so I can probably manage just asking questions after the presentation on the one reading I *did* do, at least most of it, before my brain parts started rebelling against the computer screen. *sigh*

Also have not finished Machiavelli. Exactly half-done. Am very, very tired and hated Tuesday before I'd had one and hate it more now.

Also, as previously mentioned, the stupid money has not yet appeared, and I am almost out of sugar and milk, which means the tea supply is threatened. I hate today.

Should probably go to class. >.
  • Current Mood
    exhausted exhausted

(no subject)

Yep, it's official. I hate club week.

Also: 22 Minutes interviewed Richard Dean Anderson about the hockey. :)

Additionally, Wonder Bread - the icon of goopy, sugary, boring white bread everywhere - now has a commercial campaign advertising their shiny new bread bag. The commercial has a middle-aged cartoon housewife and her two cartoon children dressed up in furry-hooded jackets, oversized sneakers, and bedecked with tacky gold chains.

They're singing a song that is basically the repetition of the line: "Wonder Bread. The bread with bling."

I could have lived my whole life without that metaphor, thanks very much, YTV.

And will somebody please kill Marti Knoxon now? Or just lock her up with a Riley standee for a few months until she forgets she thought she was a writer?
  • Current Mood
    tired tired