World AIDS Day
Couldn't hurt, might help. Do it.
Ok, total spoiler alert, but this is the best review of Casino Royale yet. Now I know who I need to go to the movies with.
Go see Casino Royale, right now. Seriously - I'll wait here for you to get back. It's that good.
P.S. Sorry about the hate, Mr. Craig. I was totally wrong. Be my boyfriend?
So as most of you know, I've spent an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out what I want to do for a living. I've pretty much clarified what it is I don't want, but that sends energy in the wrong direction. My career counselor advised me to ask people who know me well for their opinions. What are your thoughts? What sort of career do you think I would enjoy? I'm opening this up for comments because I'm looking for things I wouldn't necessarily consider on my own.
The floor is yours!
Celebrity gossip is my guilty, guilty pleasure and this cracked me up more than I expected it to. Thanks, Mighty Girl!
I'm solving quadratic equations, yeah!*
We need to lighten the tone around here, so I give you this. Naturally, I chose this for my new wallpaper:
Enjoy!
On the way home from Griffith Observatory last night, Circusfaerie, The Mad Hatter and I were rear ended. The red light we had stopped for had just changed to green when suddenly someone slammed into us from behind. Fortunately, the car in front of us had just moved so at least the collision was limited to two cars. Unfortunately, the person who hit my brand new car (I haven't even made a payment yet!) with circusfaerie sitting in the back seat (post-spinal surgery!) sped away before we could get any identifying information whatsoever.
Paramedics and police were called and a felony hit and run report was taken. Since there were no witnesses (no one in traffic stopped, and the few people on the street who actually saw something decided they didn't see anything after all and left before the police arrived) there really isn't anything they can do.
We spent the next four hours in the emergency room, where we were all given shots for pain and prescriptions for muscle relaxers. Circusfaerie had her back x-rayed, and while the doctor said she was fine, she's still following up with her surgeon to have more physical therapy prescribed.
Meanwhile, I'm one big unhappy ache and pain. I'm trying not to have any bitterness against the person who did this, but it's really hard. I can't help but feel guilty that Circusfaerie and Hat were involved in this. Neither Hat or I have health insurance so I'm hoping my insurance company will pick at least up the slack so we can see a chiropractor to work the soreness out.
In the meantime I have to deal with insurance companies, getting the car fixed, and functioning either with pain or with painkillers that knock me the fuck out.
Apparently, nobody told the Universe that this was supposed to be a good week, and I don't need this. Please send warm, healing thoughts and your best strategies for dealing with shit when you just don't want to deal. And drugs. And a really hot masseur. And a million dollars. And a bunny. Lots and lots of bunnies.
Others will post much more eloquently about recent events, but can I just say WOO-HOOOO!
Calvin: I'm being educated against my will! My rights are being trampled!
Hobbes: Is it a right to remain ignorant?
Calvin: I don't know, but I refuse to find out!
I found my phone in the refrigerator this morning. I leave it for the reader to decide whether this is an indication of a good or bad evening.
OK, I suspect this is just hormones talking, but bear with me for just a moment. "Factor trinomials by trial and error."
So you're saying you just want me to motherfucking GUESS at what the goddamn answer might be? I can do that on my own, without subjecting myself to the time, expense and frustration of either my math book, my tutor OR the professor. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW, AND I DON'T FUCKING CARE! In what other discipline is 'keep doing the same stupid thing until eventually it comes out right' a legitimate answer?! I've suspected before that this entire 'math' thing is there simply to drive me mad with frustration, but now I have proof. PROOF DAMMIT!!!
Have I mentioned I hate stupid motherfucking algebra lately? AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGH!
This tantrum brought to you by the letters PM and S. And no, it didn't fucking help at all.