Let's see. It's Friday. Nerves are fraying a little. My sister's engagement party is tomorrow, which is turning into the equivalent of a mini wedding reception, and the whole house is ripped apart because apparently in my mother's most scream-inducing nightmares, her new in-laws to be are going to come down and go sashaying through the rooms like Simon Cowell and Paula Abdul, with Simon the dad holding up placards with scorecards on them, and Paula the mom's flipper clapping hands toddling along behind. Let's just say that the house could be sold at this point, save for two rooms, because it's so clean. All of my remaining stuff has gone into the storage unit, and I couldn't help with any of this because work is insane and unlike someone else who has thrown herself into this job, I don't have leave to burn. I have to go to work. Every day. Therefore, when next I move, I have no idea what's in any of my boxes. On the one hand it's unnerving, and on the other it's pretty cool, because I can jet out of here at any time and just leave it all. But most of all it's unnerving - not gonna lie.

I had a syllabus to finish two nights ago (try to stay awake for that, I dare you) and the room that the computer's in is right next to the chaos that has been the roar of the vacuum cleaner for the past two nights. I've never seen a person vacuum like my father. He's the most obsessive compulsive vacuumer I've ever witnessed, which shouldn't surprise me. It could be because he hasn't ever done it, and it's interesting him like a shiny new toy.

When I'm stressed my hair tends to go higher on my head like Pebbles, another on the list of my odd idiosyncrasies, which runs from here to Baton Rouge right about now. And no, not the Pebbles who sang "GIRL-FRIEND. How could you let EM TREAT'CHA so BAD. BABY I'm NOT SAD NAH GIRLFRIEND." She, by the way, looks alot like that punk ass informant who ate it on the first season of 24. Hm? Probably just me.  Anyway, behold the ponytail of quiet desperation:

That's some more of my stuff ready for the storage place behind me. Also, the phone that was promised to be mailed to me never arrived. These people are...NOT SMART. I said it. They're not. They're dumbdumbstupidfuckingdumb, and I am so irritated by their not smartness that I'm beyond being irritated, that's how irritated. I don't even care about the karma anymore. And by the way, do not rent from Thrifty Car Rental ever. Just for me. Thanks. This is how I feel about those jackasses.

In good, keeping-me-sane news, NYC in two weeks, thank God - and I think I'm going to Philly for Thanksgiving and back to NYC for New Year's. The NYC part is really, really good news - Philly...it's okay. Also, BNL and Lionel Richie are next week, but can someone explain to me why no one wants to go see Barenaked Ladies with me? What's wrong with people? It's one of the most fun live shows in the world of pop music, I swear. It isn't The Raconteurs in Nashville or anything, but it's free! So sad.

If you haven't watched "Friends With Money," don't. Depressing. Just watch "Shopgirl", either again or for the first time.

And in final funny news, my site is the second hit on Google Images for "Awesomeo", from this post more than a year ago. It's a South Park thing. I get hits from people searching for it every day, multiple times a day, which is funny.

Butters: When Cartman is playing all alone in his backyard, he likes to dress up like Britney Spears and pretend he's her! He sings and dances around with a life size cut-out of Justin Timberlake!
AWESOM-O: …You saw that?
Butters: Yea. And I video-taped him doing it!
AWESOM-O: …Nuh-uh.
Butters: I've got the whole thing on tape, even him making out with the Justin Timberlake cut-out!
AWESOM-O: …No way.
Butters: Yeah! And if Cartman ever messes with me again, I'm gonna show that video to everybody! Then I'll have my revenge, boy howdy!
AWESOM-O: … Um, where is this videotape, Butters?
Butters: Huh? Oh, I dunno. It's around here somewhere. Hey! So what do you wanna do now, AWESOM-O?
AWESOM-O: Uh, Butters, maybe you should give AWESOM-O the videotape?
Butters: How come?
AWESOM-O: Well, because… AWESOM-O can, like, back it up for you, and make copies and stuff. I am AWESOM-O.
Butters: Oh, that's all right, AWESOM-O. Come on! I have a lot of things to teach you.
AWESOM-O: … Oh, son of a bitch!