These Are the Blogs of Our Lives

I find it mind-boggling that people aren't flocking to read my incoherent ramblings. Come on people! If there are ramblings more incoherent, I'll eat my... dinner. Yeah.

My head is all swimmy with ideas and plans. However, it's impossible to start on any decent idea or plan at 4:30 pm. Just not gonna happen. Of course, all I have to look forward to is the responsible person's life of going home, not drinking, considering washing the dishes, and watching endless sitcom reruns or taped episodes of Buffy. Ooh, I'm almost to the end of Season Three. Soon, Buffy and Faith will duke it out, Angel will drink Buffy's blood, the Mayor will turn into a big demon and Sunnydale High will go BOOM!† Then what? hit rewind and start over at Season One? Can I really keep watching the same television shows over and over and over and over until I know each subtle nuance of Sarah Michelle Gellar's nose scrunches and Anthony Stewart Head's eyeglass polishing? Can I? Not without someone to help me play the Buffy Drinking Game, I can't. Of course, I could always just play it alone, but that would be really pathetic. Hmm, perhaps no more pathetic than writing to myself on the Internet. Six-pack of Labatt's and VCR, here I come!

†First she saves the prom from being overrun by devil dogs trained to attack at the sight of formalwear, and even gets a nifty gift from an appreciative (because, living) class, but the whole break-up with Angel is so depressing, I didn't want to mention it.