Blurring under miracles of snow

My wonderful housemate was all industrious this morning, and furiously cleaned house. I assuaged my guilt a little by sweeping and mopping, and then it was The Time of the Errands.
We braved the weekend coliseum of CostCo, fought some lions and gladiators, and escaped with soda and popcorn. And there were crafty bead-type things, and Jamba juice and lovely wonderful silk and velvet that I can't afford but had to have anyway. (It was 75% off, what could I do?)
I began assembling some concrete details on a birthday present I've been letting ferment in my brain for a while.
And there was a Barry and a Stuart and a Tony and a Cindy who all came to watch movies, and Leigh Ann hung out for a while and humoured us before dashing off for more exciting social engagements. I think people enjoyed all three films, which was nice, and then we watched a couple of hours of a cartoon called Samurai Jack which many of my friends had raved about before. And, like so many things that people I should have a lot in common with rave about, I thought it was 'pretty okay'.
Sometimes I think I must be missing something. There's still a lot about anime I know I Just Don't Get. But Tony loaned me Shamanic Princess, which he thinks I will like.
Then it was all late and everybody left and I went up to bed. Until like one-thirty or something, when I woke up and wasn't in any hurry to go back to sleep. Thank you, circadian rhythms. So you, faithful reader, get lots of spew about nothing in particular. Aren't you the jammy bastard?

On the bus today I met the queen of LA. At least she said she was and who am I to say?

Another mystery guest appears--Hello mystery guest! (: Hope you enjoy yourself. Or enjoy me. Whatever.
There was a discussion on her page about Tori Amos, and here's where I can ask if anybody knows what the heck a Cornflake Girl is. I've heard the phrase in a Tori Amos song and a Billy Bragg song, so I'm guessing it's a Britism that I'm unfamiliar with.
She also had an interesting link which makes me think this LJ thing is all wide spread and ubiquitous. (To get your own LJ blender, change out my account name for your own in the URL.)
I have that 'We are the lucky ones' song from Buffy stuck in my head. If it refuses to go away, I may have to borrow the CD from Emily (Saint Emily the Just, Healer of Stuffed Animals). It's a really nice waltz with a bittersweet sound to it, but I have no idea what the lyrics are.
It's kind of amazing that anything's stuck in my head--my attention span is nearly nothing, and there are a thousand different things spinning through my head. I'm tired, but not the least bit sleepy. Cindy is going to try and get some recommendations on driving schools for me, and I think I can probably make a start by the end of the week.
I put up another bookshelf this weekend (got my tool-user gene some exercise), and transferred my nominally 'non-fiction' books onto it, and now I can reorganise my books, maybe keep most of them visible. Cleaned a goodly portion of the house with the help of my wonderful housemate, and after making dinner the kitchen is more or less clean. I even brushed (ever so lightly) over that stupid story that I wrote the first draft of two years ago and then set it on a web-based shelf and left it to collect dust. Missed out on going to the movies but Leigh Ann says she'll make it up to me. Woo. I think the oil spot on our rug from fondue-ing is finally history, and now all I need to do is find a packet of mint seeds and plant that ugly bare spot in the front yard. Mmmm. Mint. Taking over and growing wild. W007.
This must be one of those 'stream of consciousness' entries that my friend Mark talked about. Fragmented, no direction, no form, no flow. It's like reading a Saturday morning cartoon with no action or violence after eating several bowls of sugared cereal.