When I find someone worth crushing on again, that's the first song going on the inevitable mixtape. I want to eat Justin Hawkins and his spandex up and I can't wait to transfer that sexual energy to someone more accessible . . . and female.

The crazies (or the missionaries for the unborn as they prefer to call themselves) invaded campus with their billboards and their bible-thumping prophets and their pamphlets. It was so fucking wonderful of them to stop by and attempt to save all of us waywards from participating in the "American Holocaust," the severity of which was illustrated through the use of side by side photographs of a mass of naked, emaciated Jewish corpses and the pieces of an aborted fetus that some sick fucker picked out of the goddamn trash can. Apparently, not only is the "life" of a fetus more important than that of the woman who carries it, but the abortion of said fetus is comparable to a case of genocide, the gravity of which is mind-boggling. On top of that, it was really wonderful of them to take their children out of school for the sake of standing on a street corner and holding up sign-size pictures of fetal matter. Even better was that they planted themselves between the front of the library and the CNR building, right across the street from an elementary school playground. Gotta get 'em while they're young.

Sick, sick fuckers. Keep your bullshit to yourself.

On an unangered note, my mom bought me seat covers for my car that are purple with dragonflies on them, which means that they combine my favorite color with my favorite animal. They're really girly (which is not bad) but I think they might clash with my car (which would be bad) but I don't care because I really like them and I think that it's really sweet that my mom got them for me. I haven't put them in my car yet though because I'm taking Zane in to Erica's veterinarian science class because she's doing a presentation on cocker spaniels. He is not very fond of car rides and has a tendency to shit on the car seat out of sheer anxiety. I'm also worried about the whole thing because he's never really been around other dogs so he doesn't get along with them very well and because he doesn't react well to strangers. I have a feeling that the whole thing might not go over very well and I really don't want to take him in, but since it's for Erica and she's really excited, I'm not letting on.

We got some family pictures back the other day and there's a really great shot of Gracie (the 4 year old) not smiling, but instead making a cold, penetrating expression that is a dead-ringer for my trade mark glare. I saw it and almost died with pride. She's my mini-me, in all of her fierce glory. I'm going to hang that picture on my refridgerator, if I ever have one. They were supposed to call me back today about the apartment that I applied for, but they didn't, so I'm hoping I will find out tomorrow. And since I'm a loser, I'm really worried that if I talk about it too much or if I get my hopes up and consider it an in-the-bag sort of deal that I'll jinx it and I won't be approved, at which point I would have a breakdown. grrrr. Waiting sucks.

One more random thought (this is what happens when I don't update for a week): I keep seeing a girl around campus with a short-and-spiky-and-gelled-gone-wrong haircut and an excessive amount of gay pride that looks a helluva lot like Cedar. And everytime I see her, I have to do a doubletake just to confirm that it's not her. And everytime I feel invaded by the presence of her likeness. Why is it that some issues just don't fade away as clearly as you'd like them to?

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