Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '99: Wear Sunscreen.

There was the most wonderful dinner tonight, porkchops and beans and rice and lovely pineapple, wonderful in two regards. Firstly, my housemate made it for me. I didn't even have to get my lazy ass off the couch. Second, it was delicious. I ate way too much of it. I must continue encouraging her viewing of The Food Channel in the future.
Tonight was Bound but I just didn't feel up to having a party. I felt like laying sprawled on the couch like a dog who's been chasing squirrels all day. I even tried reading, but it was one of the Brust novels that was written as a tribute to Alexandre Dumas, so it was way too much work and I fell asleep after a chapter or two. Sooner or later, however, I need to go and confirm my membership request. Next month, honest.
Writing about music is like dancing about architecture. I've had this phrase stuck in my head since crafty sewing night (where I cut out a form for a waistcoat, and soon will find out how radically I need to alter it) and somebody mentioned some movie that was originally titled 'Dancing About Archictecture' until the producers realised that *nobody* was going to pay to see a film named *anything* about architecture.
I need to get some more Ani diFranco. Fine time for shopping for new music, but I keep getting lyrical snippets stuck in my head.

"Maybe you don't like your job
Maybe you didn't get enough sleep
Well, nobody likes their job
Nobody got enough sleep
Maybe you just had the worst day of your life
But, you know, there's no escape and there's no excuse
So just suck up and be nice"

"Just give up and admit you're an asshole
You would be in some good company
And I think you'd find that your friends would forgive you
Or maybe I am just speaking for me"