If Cats Were on the Tenure Track

I would much prefer being a nicer or swankier cat, like New Kid or Dr. Crazy. After this week, though, it only makes sense that I am:


Psycho Kitty! You don't like to be crossed and
will take it out on anyone who is stupid enough
to try!


What kind of cat are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Medusa Has Morals

I am supposed to be in the shower right now. I have been "strongly encouraged" by various higher-ups (including my chair) to attend an event today. I find this encouragement to be morally reprehensible, and I think my attendance would show a lack of respect for certain people (including myself). Without revealing the details--and maybe none of this makes sense without them--suffice it to say that attendance at this event is encouraged because big funds are at stake. In every instance of encouragement, the big funds and the importance of the big funds are mentioned. The event in itself--taken out of this context--has nothing to do with fund-raising. In fact, I find the idea of attending this event in order to secure funds (however veiled that intention might be)to be morally disgusting.

Should have been in the shower 10 minutes ago. I am not usually one to think in terms such as "morally reprehensible" or "morally disgusting." Maybe I am just beaten down from having to do so much service lately. Maybe I have decided to draw the line and am doing so arbitrarily. Maybe I am moralizing in order to draw that line. Maybe I am deluding myself by making this a moral issue. Maybe I am making much too much of this particular request and its implications. In a certain light, attending this event would merely be a show of support for a member of the community. BUT I KNOW WHY MY ATTENDANCE IS IMPORTANT TO THOSE WHO HAVE ENCOURAGED ME AND I AM PERSONALLY OFFENDED.

15 minutes late. I know that there will be hell to pay if I do not attend the event. I know it will anger certain people. I know that all of the service I have done in the past two months will be erased in an instant. But shouldn't I show them that I am not available for each and every event? How did I become their PR lackey? Do I really want to be that much of a "team player"? Do I have to be to get tenure?

20 minutes late. (I got another cup of coffee.) The really fucked-up thing is this: by not attending this event, I will be seen as the one who is divesting it of the communal spirit aspect (which the intentions of the encouragement always already did) and who is thinking of it only from the big funds aspect. My very objection reinforces what they are trying to hide under the veil of "communal spirit."

30 minutes late. (Lots of staring out of the window. Two cigarettes smoked.) I have a feeling that I might be "getting on my high horse," as my father used to accuse me of doing. I feel like I might be "cutting off my nose to spite my own face," as he also used to say. Interesting that I am hearing my father's voice right now.

Getting in the shower. Still not sure what I am going to do.

Early Trevor?

youngtrevor
Originally uploaded by dr. medusa.

Thanks to Bitch Ph.D. and Profgrrrl I have become slightly obsessed with Magical Trevor.

This is a doll that I inherited from my grandfather. He always had it on his dresser, and I loved it as a child. I now keep it on my vanity.

Lately I have noticed--maybe because I could be losing my mind--just how much he looks like our Trevor. Isn't the facial expression EXACTLY the same? What about the robes and the hat? I think you will agree that the resemblance is uncanny.

Just how old is this doll? Just how long has Trevor been around? Just how deep in our cultural psyche is Trevor embedded? Why does the song stick in our heads? Why do we watch the cartoon over and over and over and over again? I think the mystery of Magical Trevor goes much, much deeper than we have acknowledged.

Why does everyone love Magical Trevor? I think all of blogworld should drop everything immediately and get on this question.

Burnout + Baseball + Boundaries = Brush Off

How am I already so burnt-out? How did my plan to focus less on teaching and more on research go awry so quickly? How is it that I am either at school or holed up in my attic, wondering if I still have friends and if I will ever emerge to see them again? How is it that I have managed to piss off Cassio--the only friend who has been willing to visit me in my hermitage--so thoroughly?

Time to face reality and figure things out ONCE AGAIN, before I give up entirely on this profession. Part of the problem, a huge part, is my particular institution. Even though student numbers are growing by leaps and bounds, the faculty remains small. This means all hands on deck all of the time. If you slack on service, people--faculty and administrators alike--notice. It's the fucking panopticon. I even find myself saying to colleagues: "Why weren't you at event x or y?" Disgusting. In the past week or so, I have attended three long public-relations events, three long committee meetings, and one university-wide colloquium. These have eaten up my free days and made it impossible for me to grade, to prep, or to work--hell, I can't even remember what my work is about--on my research. I did manage to pull one panel proposal out of my ass, but I have six more proposals that were due, like, yesterday. When I will have time to write said papers is anyone's guess. So, at my institution, "focusing less on teaching" = making your ass available to get sucked into more service.

The second reality check: I can not focus less on my teaching this semester. Yes, I am teaching repeat courses. Yes, I know the material. Yes, I have some notes. Yes, I am an exceptionally good ex tempore speaker and teacher. Yet, my students this semester, for the most part, are dead. Dead, dead, dead. None of my old tricks are working. Nearly impossible to get anything out of them. Other professors are having similar problems and blaming it on: bigger class sizes, the heavy late-night baseball-viewing schedule,and the influence of a particularly unruly first-year class. I have had big classes for the past two years, so that--while an annoyance--is out. I have dealt and can deal with the numbers. As much as I love the baseball, I refuse to rely on it as an excuse. I am as sleep-deprived as the rest of Baseball Nation, but I am animated and engaged in my classes. I do not have many first-years, but I would welcome an unruly influence. My students, because of the culture of the institution, are in my opinion far too docile. In the end, I do not know how to account for the utter lameness. I will be giving my "wake up or get the hell out because you are boring me" speech in my classes this week. I have been told by some that I focus too much energy on teaching because "I care." And this might be true. If I cease to give a fuck how my classes are going, my classes might still go just fine and I might have more energy for other pursuits.

Speaking of which (and getting back to the title of the post), Cassio's pursuit of yours truly may have ended. Especially when I get stressed, I need my space. I tend to get pretty testy about personal boundaries under the best of circumstances. The whole mirror trope--me as a professional mirror--is based on how I use the mirror or mirroring as a boundary. But because Cassio is no narcissist, I am left to deal with him face to face. I thought I had been doing pretty well with this. We have been hanging out in my little attic, watching a lot of baseball, drinking a lot of wine, and having some crazy good sex. Lately, I--exhausted and stressed--have been lame company and have fallen dead asleep at some too-early part of our evenings together. When he suggested we go out to the pub to watch the game mid-week last week, I--exhausted and stressed--told him I was going to stay home. He suggested that he go to the pub, come over to watch the end of the game with me, and spend the night. I explained that I had an early class and had to get up especially early the next day. He, having the sleep schedule of a rockstar, does not even consider getting out of bed until 11 a.m. His response? "That's fine. You won't disturb me." What?? How am I supposed to tiptoe around a sleeping man to get ready at crack-of-ass o'clock in the morning? Have I explained that I live in a little attic? Getting ready in the morning involves a whirlwind of radio or television accompanied activity. Music or news blares as I race (usually naked, the benefit of living too high for anyone to see in) from shower to kitchen to computer to closet. Clothes and papers fly. Cursing is frequent. In any case, the point was clearly that *I* would not be comfortable having him in my bed on such a morning. Somehow, maybe because he got more and more upset at the suggestion that we see each other another time, I gave in.
Next morning, I got ready in silence (a huge feat) and arrived at school late (of course).

The rest of the week was chaos; my sleep deficit exponentially increased. When he called on Friday to suggest we get together, I had to decline. All I wanted was my bed. After all of the face time with so many people needing things from me, all I wanted was to be alone. He became very quiet for the rest of the conversation. I finally asked him if he was angry. He explained that he was not angry--emphasizing and completely undermining the point with "HOW CAN I BE ANGRY?"--but disappointed. I called him back later to try to smooth things over, but by that time he was in "I-am-perfectly-fine-and-I-don't-need-you-because-I-have-quite-a-bit-
going-on-myself" mode--full-on and unreachable. So did I brush him off or did he brush me off? Have not heard from him. Am I an asshole?

After all of this musing, I am left with even more questions. Why can't friends/lovers/family understand the pressures of my profession? Am I putting too much pressure on myself? In other words, am I blowing my workload way out of proportion? Am I not seeing it realistically? I have had this problem--at least the problem of alienating lovers because of my work--since graduate school. In my relationships, I often find myself feeling like I have to PROVE just how much work I have to do and just how stressful it is. Then I just come off looking like some kind of martyr or victim or whiner. Is there any possibility that someone could just understand in the first place without me having to feel like I have to explain myself constantly? Is it possible for someone to just give me my space without me having to use socially retarded expressions like "give me my space"?

Well, this has turned into more of a rant than I intended it to be. Thinking more and more that I should move to Maine or Nova Scotia or Newfoundland and become a fisherwoman. (Yes--this a strange dream of mine based on a strange notion that the sea is calling me, though my friends insist that whatever is calling, it is not the sea.) At least then people might understand that I had been in the cold sea all day risking life and limb to pull up heavy traps. If not, I could pop in a tape of The Perfect Storm and go on about my business.

Hmmmm . . . 54%

There should be a word for procrastinating by answering lists of questions. This one, from profgrrrl via Heading Out, makes me want to do anything but grade (which I really, really, really AM going to start doing ANY MINUTE NOW).

1. Bought everyone in the pub a drink
2. Swam with wild dolphins
3. Climbed a mountain
4. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
5. Been inside the Great Pyramid
6. Held a tarantula
7. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
8. Said "I love you" and meant it
9. Hugged a tree
10. Done a striptease
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Stayed up all night long and watched the sun rise
15. Seen the Northern Lights
16. Gone to a huge sports game
17. Walked the stairs to the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa
18. Grown and eaten my own vegetables
19. Touched an iceberg
20. Slept under the stars Most recently, on the beach.
21. Changed a baby's diaper
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon Three!
23. Watched a meteor shower For me, watching meteor showers = getting into fights with boyfriends who are watching with me. Has happened twice. Weird.
24. Gotten drunk on champagne
25. Given more than you can afford to charity
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
28. Had a food fight
29. Bet on a winning horse
30. Taken a sick day when you're not ill Wanted to do it today.
31. Asked out a stranger
32. Had a snowball fight
33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
35. Held a lamb
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip
38. Taken an ice cold bath
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar
40. Seen a total eclipse
41. Rode on a roller coaster
42. Hit a home run
43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
48. Had two hard drives for your computer
49. Visited all 50 states
50. Loved your job for all accounts
51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
53. Had amazing friends
54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country Ohhh. . .Tomas.
55. Watched wild whales
56. Stolen a sign Also turned a one-way sign around, while perching precariously (and drunkenly) on a fence. Don't ask.
57. Backpacked in Europe
58.Taken a road-trip
59.Rock climbing
60. Lied to foreign government's official in that country to avoid notice
61.Midnight walk on the beach
62. Sky diving
63. Visited Ireland
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love This is a specialty of mine.
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
66. Visited Japan
67. Benchpressed your own weight
68. Milked a cow
69. Alphabetized your records Lasted for about a day.
70. Pretended to be a superhero
71. Sung karaoke
72. Lounged around in bed all day
73. Posed nude in front of strangers Actually, only one stranger, but it was a fairly famous artist (and the painting sold for $12,000). I know I am shamelessly bragging, but when else would I get to brag about this?
74. Scuba diving
75. Got it on to “Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye
76. Kissed in the rain
77. Played in the mud
78. Played in the rain
79.Gone to a drive-in theater
80. Done something you should regret, but don't regret it
81. Visited the Great Wall of China
82. Discovered that someone who's not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog
83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better
84. Started a business
85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
86. Toured ancient sites
87. Taken a martial arts class
88. Swordfought for the honor of a woman
89. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
90. Gotten married
91. Been in a movieCrowd scene in Breaking Away
92. Crashed a party
93. Loved someone you shouldn't have
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy
95. Gotten divorced
96. Had sex at the office
97. Gone without food for 5 days
98. Made cookies from scratch
99. Won first prize in a costume contest
100. Rode a gondola in Venice
101. Gotten a tattoo
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on
103. Rafted the Snake River
104. Been on television news programs as an "expert"
105. Got flowers for no reason
106. Masturbated in a public place
107. Got so drunk you don't remember anything
108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug
109. Performed on stage
110. Been to Las Vegas
111. Recorded music
112. Eaten shark
113. Had a one-night stand Just one?
114. Gone to Thailand
115. Seen Siouxsie live
116. Bought a house Well, a tiny space above The Fuckwits. Does that count?
117. Been in a combat zone
118. Buried one/both of your parents
119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off
120. Been on a cruise ship Yes but while it wasn't sailing. I pissed off the whole crew by repeatedly saying "Nice boat."
121. Spoken more than one language fluently
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone
123. Bounced a check
124. Performed in Rocky Horror
125. Read - and understood - your credit report
126. Raised children
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy
128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour As the girlfriend. More than once (and more than one band/singer). Oh god.
129. Created and named your own constellation of stars
130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did According to my grandmother, I am related to John Brown. (Yes, that John Brown.)
132. Called or written your Congress person
133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
134. ...more than once? - More than thrice? Thrice.
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
137. Had an abortion or your female partner did
138. Had plastic surgery
139.Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived
140. Wrote articles for a large publication.
141. Lost over 100 pounds
142. Held someone while they were having a flashback
143. Piloted an airplane
144. Petted a stingray
145. Broken someone's heart
146. Helped an animal give birth
147. Been fired or laid off from a job .
148. Won money on a T.V. game show
149. Broken a bone
150. Killed a human being
151. Gone on an African photo safari
152. Rode on a motorcycle
153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100 mph Once drove from Tuscaloosa to Tampa at 120 mph, in the middle of the night, in a Datsun (back when they were called "Datsuns").
154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild I can only assume they were gathered in the wild.
157. Rode a horse
158. Had major surgery
159. Had sex on a moving train
160. Had a snake as a pet
161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing
163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
165. Visited all 7 continents
166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
167. Eaten kangaroo meat
168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground
169. Been a sperm or egg donor
170. Eaten sushi
171. Had your picture in the newspaper
172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime
173. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
174. Gotten someone fired for their actions
175. Gone back to school
176. Parasailed
177. Changed your name
178. Petted a cockroach
179. Eaten fried green tomatoes
180. Read The Iliad
181. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school. . . . . .and taught it as if I were an authority.
182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them
183. ...and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
184. Taught yourself an art from scratch!
185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt
187. Skipped all your school reunions
188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
189. Been elected to public office
190. Written your own computer language
191. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
193. Built your own PC from parts
194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
195. Had a booth at a street fair
196. Dyed your hair
197. Been a DJ
198. Found out someone was going to dump you via Blogger
199. Written your own role playing game
200. Been arrested

Things I am wondering . . .

. . . in my sleep-deprived state:

1. Why it takes me so long to grade and why I absolutely detest it

2. How I can find more time to do my research, and if I really enjoy it as much as I think I enjoy it (or if I am just thinking of it longingly because I don't have time to do it)

3. If Johnny Damon would have sex with me

4. If the Fuckwit Neighbors heard me having sex with Cassio last night

5. Why I never hear the Fuckwits having sex

6. If the Fuckwits actually have sex

7. If I really drank most of the contents of the many empty wine bottles in my recycling bin

8. If I should get a tattoo, and--if so--what tattoo (and where)

9. If I should get a cat and if I am really over the death of my last kitty (who I had for most of my adult life and who was my soulmate)

10. If I can really re-read Orlando in the next 10 minutes (before the baseball game comes on)

So very tired

I guess it is that point in the semester. Dr. Crazy is grading like a madwoman, getting no sleep, and lecturing on cock. Mel, who is in favor of thinking and who is damned good at it, is too tired to think. Profgrrrrl is caffeinating and working at 1:45 a.m. on a Sunday morning. New Kid is drowning in midterms and is too exhausted (and this is just my tongue-in-cheek theory) to lust for students.

I (on my ancient home machine) just managed to write an awful lot in HTML from memory to get those links in there, despite the fact that I had about six hours of interrupted sleep last night and an average of four hours per night all week. So much grading. So much service crap. Too many proposal deadlines. And a little Cassio.

Oompff--in fact, too tired to write actual post now.

What does one wear?

What does one wear to a benefit luncheon when one's table partners will include: a) prominent nuns; b) university presidents; and c) Hollywood celebrities? [Note: all of the mentioned will be women.]

Help!

Condescending Blow-Hards (A Rant Against Generica)

Meg&HamiltonSwan
Originally uploaded by dr. medusa.

I can take condescension. I can take it from senior faculty. I can take it from uppity students. I can take it from my family. I can take it from my lovers.

But, what I CAN NOT and WILL NOT take is condescension from my generica, condo-owning, J. Crew-wearing, Crate & Barrel-box-on-doorstep-every-day, commuting-to-a-cubicle-to-blindly-dully-happily-push-securites-and-
sports-travel-packages-down-the-throats-of-other-generica-fuckwits, sacntimonious-Republican neighbors. But this is what I get for buying a condo. A tiny many-floor-walk-up atop much more expensive condos, but a condo.

Here's the latest from the Generica Fuckwit Neighbors, a couple whom I will call Meg and Hamilton :

Hi Medusa,
I noticed that the back hallway is really starting to stink. Could you please put your trash in the outdoor trash can. I know you haven't gotten a new lid yet but storing your trash in the back stairwell is not a reasonable alternative. You can get a replacement lid at home depot for a few dollars.

Thanks!
Meg

Now, a little background. Point #1: Someone stole the lid to my trash can a week and a half ago. I haven't had a chance to get by the Home Despot to purchase another (which must be confusing for them, as they go daily). M & H are very concerned about uncovered bags of trash (attracts rabid animals and identity thieves). Point #2: I often put a bag of trash on my back landing, in preparation to take it down. Last night I did so, but then Cassio dropped by, baseball game came on, Shiraz cork was popped, yadda, yadda, yadda. So Poor Idiotic Medusa who obviously had not just forgetten to take the trash down but who had obviously decided that "storing" trash in the house was a "reasonable alternative" (because she is an imbecile) to putting it in the much-debated-over outdoor can caused quite a stink this morning.

You might think that I am making a huge stink over nothing myself. But Meggy and Hamilton have been sending me "friendly advice" like this since day one. Some examples:

"You might consider, the next time you hire movers, that the company you hired this time does not require their workers to wear shirts at all times."

"The mailbox you purchased is a different shade of black and made of a more lightweight metal than ours. I have put a Restoration Hardware catalog in your new mailbox. You might consider model #XXXX."

The best advice came when I objected to the joint purchase of a very expensive and unnecessary home improvement:

"Home improvements are necessary to raise property value."

"Living in this area is expensive. You should budget accordingly, or perhaps move to another area."

My personal favorite, which I will not include here, involved a quote from a popular Hollywood film that they corrupted to mean "consumption of material goods = proper living" (with the implication that I had somehow missed this point in my socialization and should get on board sooner rather than later).

I am not making this shit up. Oh, and they regularly "store" stinky dog blankets and such on their landing until they can wash them. Dog poop in the yard? Daily.

Fuckwits.

Goodbye, Jacques

I know the title is cheesy as all hell, but I REALLY am so sad about Derrida. I don't know if this makes me the biggest geek in the world, and I am not sure if I care. I will try to account for my reaction. From the ridiculous to the sublime:

1. One less theorist in the world that I study with a particular fervor ONLY possible when I believe I COULD potentially bang him.

2. Cixous must be sad. I dig Cixous.

3. My directed study student who studied Derrida with me must be sad. I dig my directed study student.

4. Journalists in the mainstream media are trying to explain deconstruction.

5. All those special conference panels devoted to Derrida that are going to make me gag.

6. His work is now a "body of work" with clear boundaries, so studying him will never be the same.

7. I will never get the sense that I know what Derrida is thinking or writing, only what he thought or wrote.

8. I cannot stress the importance of this enough: I will never get to have sex with Jacques Derrida.

Did you know. . .

. . . that " 'The Swimmer' by John Cheever is a fiction about a man"?

Yes, I am drowning in undergraduate papers. Hope to find a way to be inspired, as Dr. Crazy so brilliantly was earlier this week.

My interest is slightly piqued by the essay I am saving for last, which claims to show how gin "illustrates the darkness and intangibility of love."

Yes, I will be enjoying a Sapphire & tonic as I read it.

Derrida dead

Unaccountably upset.

What I am wearing

I am not sure how this happened. Maybe I let my id dress me
this morning. I am wearing:

a hot pink tank top
a black ballet sweater
black-and-white pinstriped flannel pajama pants
a hot pink suede hat
Ugg boots

I have to say it is the single best working-at-home
outfit I have ever managed to throw together.

I might still be drunk.

Oops . . . Id Did It Again

My id loves to smoke and fuck. My id won the rest of me over to its evil ways last night. I blame Cheney and Edwards.

The evening began innocently enough. Best-friend-turned-suitor-lover (ok, a pseudonym: B. F. Lover) came over for some Chinese food and debate-watching. The lo mein was good; the Shiraz, excellent. B. F., though, was surly. I like him most of all when he is surly. About 30 minutes into the debate (and around the sixth glass of Shiraz), B.F. ... (Wait. Must change pseudonym. For whatever reason--maybe because the id-effect hasn't worn off--it makes me think "Butt Fuck" every time I type it. Hmmm. . . Cassio. That works.) So, Cassio and I--both pretty sloshed by question #4--realized that our critical viewing skills were seriously impaired and that our thoughtful commentary had devolved into drunken, slurred heckling of the VP, who had pretty much become indistinguishable from SNL's Darryl Hammond. I found evidence of this devolution this morning. My ash-covered notes (yes, I was taking notes and I was smoking) started as fairly lucid prose but ended with the following scrawl: "FUCKING DICK! RI-DICK-U-LOUSE!"

Sorry, I digress. Around the time that I must have been scrawling this line, Cassio says, "You are really pissing me off." I, assuming he's still talking to Cheney/Hammond, simply nod. When poor Cassio then--in utter disbelief--asks "That's your only response?!?", I supportively yell "Right on!". Finally somehow realized that he was talking to me, and we begin a debate of our own. The issue: this weekend we had "decided" to go back to being friends and only friends. It wasn't really a decision but the ultimate result of a ridiculous conversation--initiated by Cassio--about my discomfort and ambivalence with the new state of affairs between us (since the crazy good sex of two weeks ago). This conversation was doomed from the beginning, because 1) I do not believe in the Oprahesque hogwash that "keeping the lines of communication open" ensures the survival of a relationship. In fact, I have serious doubts that talking about everything is even GOOD for a relationship; and 2) Just prior to this conversation, Cassio had told me that he had told my ex-boyfriend (who is also his close friend) that we had slept together. Now, he felt compelled to tell the ex this because "He felt weird not telling him" and "thought he should know." Why? Why? Ugh, this drive to confess drives me crazy.

In any case, the debate--which very formally followed the format of the VP debate--consisted of me answering the charge of "being a freak" and "fucking things up." As I have indicated, I actually like it when Cassio is being a total dick. I also prefer the hostile debate format over the sensitive conversation format. Long story short (which it has to be, because I have to wait until Cassio wakes up and fills me in on the many missing details of the discussion to know the whole story), I am fairly certain that I won the debate and very certain that we ended up in bed.

This morning, I am feeling both glow-y and anxious. The cigarettes or Cassio? Hard to know. I would like to know exactly what I said. Seem to remember telling Cassio that I was in love with him--a blantant lie the likes of which I frequently tell when drunk. Must finish coffee and cigarette then go wake him up.

[Could someone please fill me in on what happened in the actual debate? Seems I have missed the morning re-hash. Did Dicky and Johnny end up in bed?]

Attempt #4 Leads to Burning Obsession with particularities of HTML

OK, experienced bloggers. Trying to create a blogroll. Must paste HTML code into template to do so. Blogrolling gives me the code, but when I paste the code into the template the title of my blogroll does not show up in the sidebar. Any tips? Keep in mind that I am working on an ancient Mac.

Excuse the extreme geekiness of my question. Must immerse myself in all things technical in order to avoid desire to smoke.

Friend of a Friend (35) drops dead from coughing fit, Dr. Medusa begins quit-smoking attempt #4

So begins the weekend. Expect cranky posts to follow. Apologies in advance.