It's like the spam of chicken.

I'm exhausted.

So instead of doing the homework that's due Saturday I'm going to bed early.

Which I shouldn't but I need to.

Today was good. Periodicals in the morning then off-desk time to work on that paperback buy stuff. Finally sorted through all the titles and series, now just have to come up with the ISBN numbers - thank you Amazon copy and paste - which will take a few more hours I'm sure. Much longer than I remember from last year, but then again last year I think I had like 6 kids go, not 9. And none on a mission to make the longest list like I'm pretty sure 2 did this year.

Though 2 of my oldest have decided that next year they're just going to write down everything as a going away present.

Thanks for that. Feelin' the love.

Anyway, so I did that in the morning and of course carried them around with me all day thinking I could do more whilst on the desk but didn't happen cause we were swamped.

By the way, I'm typing this entire thing in an British accent because Lie to Me is on the background and it's that weird quirk that I have, you know, when I hear an accent and immediately talk back in it.

Makes work really interesting. Always have to pause, literally, so that I can remember my actual dialect and not offend someone.

But it was either British or Minnesotan - which is even worse and lasts longer, ask either member of Amber Squared. After watching New In Town the entire night and it wouldn't stop, they thought it was hilarious - because the boyfriend and I just watched Fargo.


Cult classic, we laughed. Scale of Awesome says 6/10.

Enjoyed all the "ya's" but totally cringed at the wood chipper.

That was gross.

Apparently we're on some sort of Frances McDormand kick.

slash Bruce Willis one.

So it was madness when we watched Moonrise Kingdom as they're both in it.

He gave me the 25th anniversary collection of Die Hard on blu-ray for my birthday. First four movies plus hours of bonus features. Best boyfriend ever.

Anyway, so that was this morning, and then tonight, but in the middle of all that I went to lunch with BossLady. Got some rice bowls and chatted about the joys of high school and relationships and all that.

We give each other a lot of crap, it's highly entertaining.

And tomorrow I'm grabbing supper with Slim Shady after work - totally stoked. I know you're all jealous. She's still wicked awesome, now she's just wicked awesome elsewhere since that she ditched us for greener pastures.

Well, geographically desirable greener pastures that is.

But Superwoman already made me pinky promise that I wouldn't ditch the library for a boy so when we get married I'm commuting.

And that was today.

Here's your music and some extras then the fiction.

Nearly Witches - Panic! at the Disco


nice moves brendon. dude needs a wireless mic.


50 State Stereotypes in 2 Minutes - this is hysterical


i can see seasonal depression from here.

56,000 square miles of dull.

at least we're not north dakota.


aaannd here's more.


don't ask.


Alright, onto In girum imus nocte et consumimur igni - Part Two

She’s pulling up to the red light when I get there. I open the door to the dirty black mustang and get in. I put the briefcase on my lap but keep the gun in my right hand. She smiles at me through her long blonde hair and takes off when the light turns green. We ride in silence. She drops me off three blocks from the station and I walk the rest.

I move my gun to the small of my back, pressed between me and my belt then tuck it under my jacket. I enter through the back of the police station and go up the stairs where I’m approached by two men in uniform. They look at each other confused, obviously not expecting company after midnight. One of them reaches for his glock when a gray-haired officer steps around the corner.

“He’s with me,” Detective Noffke says, and gestures for me to follow him. The uniform puts his gun back in his holster and lets me pass by. Noffke walks through the dark hallways to his office in the back.

I close the door behind me as he sits down behind his desk. I look around at his nonexistent filing system. He’s a dirty cop in more ways than one. There are papers scattered everywhere and no other furniture besides his desk and chair. The white walls are covered in newspaper clippings and judging by the amount of dust covering his blinds they probably haven’t been opened for the fifteen years he’s had this office. To my right are stacks of cardboard boxes with victims’ names written in black marker. His open homicide cases seem to be piling up. But that’s why I’m being paid to be here. Because of one case in particular. Delay its investigation by killing the lead detective. I put the briefcase on his desk and spin it toward him so he can see the money.

“That’s half of what I asked for,” he says, looking up at me.

“They’ll give me the other half after I kill you,” I say, pulling the gun out from my back and shooting him twice in the chest. I close the briefcase and turn to walk out. The uniforms heard the shots and are quickly approaching, guns at the ready. They’re quick but I’m quicker, shooting them both, one shot each, between the eyes. They both drop instantly. I step over them and keep walking without looking back. End of phase three.