Not quite pantalones, but close enough

If I manage to keep myself in the bubble, these are my present to myself. I think even that wicked bitch Stacey London would approve.

Something worse than the confocal

If I stay at home, there is no one around to witness my insanity. Therefore, I am sane for all practical purposes. I don't think I have ever had to try soooo hard for anything ever. That being said, it may be pertinent to thank all those people in my life who make this stupid exercise bearable, but I feel weird and sappy doing so. Instead, I will express my feelings through Battlegore Spectacular. It's like when Lee Adama got all soft and squishy on the Pegasus and had to not be soft and squishy anymore after the fraking shit storm that was New Caprica. Or when Kara accepted Sam's hybrid hook-up. Or Bill Adama saying goodbye to his Moustachio. Basically, I am pretty sure prelims are a rite of passage in more ways than the obvious one and I will be something more of a grownup afterwards. This mostly makes me sad.

Nemesis, A-Bomb, Schnip: this tomato loves you.

Failed Anger Management

So my anger threshold is creeping to record lows and most anything will set me off these days (e.g. grad students with business cards, diabetics, etc). Actually, I am angry right now because I am supposed to be studying and am, instead, writing this. My solution to this problem is to ask for Xanax at my doctor's appointment on Friday. I am sure this is not healthy.

On the brighter side, I am enjoying having Bean in town. She doesn't seem to mind my mood swings...or at least she doesn't say anything if she does. There is a lot of beer involved and we are going to go shoot skeets! I am sure this is also not healthy.


Get out of my PhD, Garbage

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?sched=1177

One thousand one and counting...