Watch it spin around into a beautiful oblivion.

Miranda and I braved the rain and ventured out last night for Schizophrenic - she hasn't heard the live tracks and has only listened to the new Promosquad clips once or twice, so it was mostly new to her, which was fun for me. We made it through Something Special, which had her nodding along and laughing and bouncing in her seat, which was such a treat to partake in, because I, too, want to do nothing but groove and smile to that song.

Great dinner (baby back ribs at Chili's, natch ;) and even more fantastic conversation about the recording industry, celebrity culture (or is that the cult of celebrity), singers vs. entertainers, product vs. hype, the JC/Britney tour of so much sparkle but ultimately necessary sacrifice, the pros and cons of the changing of radio formats, and other such endlessly fascinating topics. Good times.

( Fannish Roundup: )

The key to fandom malaise, I've found, is and will forever be fic and footage and fangirldom. The endless and usually petty meta of the past few weeks has been grating on me a bit, but ( now I'm all better. )

It's so surreal to be in a fandom I've never known as a whole. For a brief moment last year at the Grammys, yes, but other than that, it's just been a series of strung-together solo ventures and a lot of politics inbetween and while most days, that's enough (and remembering that we're lucky to have even that), sometimes I just need them back together so badly I ache with it. I would love to have known this fandom at its peak.

The Leno lookalike contest the other night was... creepy. There just shouldn't be that many people walking around who look like him. And the kid from Canada who his classmates call Leno (in some cases without knowing his real name)! Love that the woman and the Indian guy won, too. It may've been eerie, but it sure was fun.

Not having work for two nights in a row was... *choirs of angels sing* Don't get me wrong, I love the job as much as ever, but this past week took it out of me. Having time to do my own writing, take a nap, just watch a little TV was lovely.

The in-house movie channel has been screening Underworld this past week, and you know, drivel as it may be, that Scott Speedman just doesn't get any less delicious with repeated viewings.

FX's rerunning of Buffy culminates in the penultimate and series finale episodes this morning - I've only caught snatches of Season 8 and am unspoiled for the end (minus the obvious), but it's been so much more solid and satisfying than the muckiness Seasons 5 & 6 tended to suffer from. [ETA: And that may have made me cry a little. She gets to start over! And live like a regular person! And she does love Spike, damnit all (who saves the world!) Oh, man, thanks, now I really am having a good cry about it.]

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a Greek vacation to spend skinny-dipping with and tied to the bedposts of Viggo. Mmm.

Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken.

They credited me as an Alligator staff writer on the article I wrote this weekend (which interested parties can see here). I was expecting to just be staff, but yeah, I suppose writing does make me a writer. Still, big grinning being done on this end.

Oh, the history essay test? Aced it! Go me. Essay tests rock the casbah.

Found a Delta Gamma Sorority girl's windbreaker. Of course I'm going to turn it in to lost and found, but I was considering keeping it for maybe a couple of days in the interest of conducting an informal social experiment to see if anyone treats me differently.

Apparently, it's a clingy, codependent day. Jon saved me from the ex-boy and walked to French with me - such a class act, that one. Plus, he squeed with me about Spike saving the world and pointed the way to new Viggo pictures. *loves*

This morning on CNN, all they talked about was the anti-gay-marriage amendment, about which I'd like to cite all the people who've said how ludicrous it is to legislate discrimination and the obvious conflict of religion playing into governmental regulation. So much for ensuring the blessings of liberty unto ourselves.

I have one Lamby sock. The other, sadly, has bit the big one, but one happy blue sock with textured lambies is still one happy blue sock with textured lambies, and the way I'm sitting right now, that's the only foot I can see.

You know what's fun?

Writing subheads and jumplines without knowing or having any input on what the actual headline will be.

What actually is fun: surprise pizza parties and Starbucks cravings the editor-in-chief offers to venture out for two minutes later. Mmm, mushrooms and Chai.

I just remembered that our waiter's name last night was Justin. With a chin stripe. We may have giggled, though admirably not until he walked away. Also, he totally didn't check my ID, and yay for two-for-one margarita specials! Happy Fat Tuesday to us.

Also, Schiz continues to one-up her already illustrious streak of spoiling me absolutely rotten. *hugs* She's also the most darling thing when flustered and fangirly.

In lieu of election results (given the incomptence of SG), we get to print a snarky editorial. Huzzah for politics!