The poky bits that are sticking out the ephemera right now:
1) For the seventh (!) time in two and a half years, I moved. Again. And for the seventh time, moving has eaten my brain whole and left, in its place, a bag of burnt microwave popcorn to rattle in my skull.
1a) I really need a bed. And a filing cabinet. And a couch. And some shelves. Let's amend that: I really need some furniture.
1b) The gas in my new apartment is not turned on yet, so I am cooking sans oven or stovetop. Which is to say that I'm cooking only with a microwave and a crockpot, which isn't really "cooking" so much as "trying not to starve to death by making more instant oatmeal".
2) I am wholly unimpressed with the Anna Sui for Target collection. Ugh.
3) Is it just me, or is "Gossip Girl" getting bad-worse with each episode, and not good-trashy-worse? I need someone to get legitimately blackmailed, or sexually harassed, or something. And Little J, do we need to have yet another talk about eyeliner?
4) All of Chicago cares about the Olympic bid. Except me.
5) You have not lived frustration until you've had the phrases "you are ridiculously overqualified" and "you really aren't qualified" lobbed at you back-to-back and in rather rapid succession, and for several days at a time.
Yes, I am still looking for a job, and no, none are forthcoming, and yes, this is making me crazy and unbearable. Chicago people: call me. Seriously. I will work for you, and I don't care that I'm overqualified on paper.
6) Still thinking about that tattoo I want.
7) Halloween costume preparations must begin post-haste.
8) Bless you, Skinny Bone Jones, and your bourbon slushies.
9) I got hit by a car on Saturday. Yes, I am fine, and yes, the bike is fine too. But for the five thousandth time, people: CHECK YOUR BIKE LANE/WEAR YOUR HELMETS.
I was riding in the Milwaukee Ave bike lane, and you decided to pull over into a parking spot along the side of the street. You didn't check to see if anyone was in the bike lane while you did so. I, being clipped into my pedals, knew that I could not swerve into the curb without smashing my body into the pavement at a high speed, so I chose to lean hard into your car upon impact.
You felt appropriately awful, I think. But if you think that hitting a biker gave you a scare, please consider what the effect might be upon the person you hit. You know, the person who is not surrounded by a nice metal and plastic and airbagged cage, and who has no health insurance, and who has the right of way.
That is all.