I just spent way too much time discovering the strangeness of newsgroups. There are about a gazillion usenet newsgroups out there. How is one to decide between alt.dirty.whores and alt.fan.dan-quayle? What is the point? Why are people so endlessly specific in their interests? I'm intriqued. Of course, I had to subscribe to the alt.beer newsgroup, and the alt.cynicism group, and who could neglect alt.culture.theory? I'll probably be bored with all this in about three days.

I'm still not bored with Friendster, though.

I am bored with looking for a job. I just pray that I won't have to be doing this periodically still when I'm in my forties. Cause it sucks.

We're going to see School of Rock tomorrow. John Vanderslice this weekend. Death Cab next weekend. Oh the joy.

The New England autumn is definitely upon us. It's getting cold and I don't have nearly enough sweaters. I went to New Hampshah last weekend, and it was lovely, despite the fact that it rained the entire time. I saw a loon. And leaves that were a strange red color. We don't have those in Cafilornia.

Speaking of Cafilornia, it's certain now: I can never move back. Why, you ask? It should be obvious.

Last night my housemates and I went to Target. This was a very exciting field trip we had been planning for weeks. You scoff at the excitement level of a trip to Target, but you underestimate its magic and allure. Target is far away, out in the wilds of Somerville, so this trip was an undertaking akin to Conrad's journey into the heart of the jungle. We got lots of neat stuff, including (are you sitting down? This is very thrilling.) a crock pot! Yay crock pots! Or, as the French call them, mijoteuses. Yeahhh. Hours (and hours and hours) of slow cooking joy await the girls of 31 A Asticou Road.

The Red Sox are down two games, and Boston is holding one big collective breath. I didn't realize people could take baseball this seriously. But I'm all wrapped up myself, so I can't really laugh at them. It's exciting, and the Yankees should lose because the Yankees are bad for baseball. And the Red Sox are good because...because...well, they won't tell me the reason, but I'm sure they have one.

I finally watched Citizen Kane last night, after borrowing it from Will about 4 months ago and promising everytime I saw him that I would watch it that week. So, it was really good. It was really long. But it was great! And I feel like a better person for having seen it.

I've been hugely antisocial lately and I don't really know why. I don't go out anymore, ever. I only hang out with two people, besides my housemates, and we only ever sit around watching movies. Everytime I do venture out of doors to a pub or restaurant or something, I spend the whole time wanting to go home. Is something wrong with me? For anyone who knows me at all, this is highly unusual. Maybe I've been taken over by strange alien lifeforms. Domestic, homebody lifeforms. It's a possibility.

Mmmm. I'm still basking in the glow of our Target adventure. Target. Yeahhh.