i'm all better now, but

I got really sick earlier this week for the first time since I was about 7 years old, and during that downtime I was able to do, well, not much of anything. After exhausting Sara's supply of gossip rags (she has actual subscriptions to US Weekly and Star--heaven) I started perusing desperately through our meager library and the only thing I could find that wasn't either suicidally depressing or something I had read 100 times was Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. Even though I have a sort of innate dislike of poetry that I have been unable to overcome despite years of effort, I pulled it out and opened it up. And you know, it wasn't half bad. Maybe it was all of the homosexual undertones that made it so interesting, kind like reading a slave letter and trying to pick out references to the underground railroad. Anyway, it was pretty cool.

Oh and I ended up watching Griffin and Phoenix like a bitch. After all that. It was pretty sad, but not horrible like I thought it would be thanks to the good acting (I love Amanda Peet mainly because she reminds me of my old roommate Tina who is easily one of the coolest people alive). Anyway, because of it I also was able to hear a new Patty Griffin song that I hadn't heard before. The reason that I hadn't heard it is that it was in an album called 1000 Kisses, and I had read all of the reviews from Billboard and Rolling Stone, etc saying "it's under-produced" or "the lyrics are too honest", so I decided to skip over it and buy a different album. Well let's just say that I listened to the whole thing and that's the last time I listen to Rolling Stone's opinion on anything. Except maybe if they review the Rolling Stones.

So Marjorie is coming into town for a "girl's weekend" (her words) tomorrow night. It'll be fun, but I am not drinking any cosmos or referring to myself as a "Miranda".