Somewhere between 3 and 4

When I was a kid, two weeks felt like an eternity. Now, an hour feels like five minutes. Two weeks feels like a day. What the hell is up with that?

I made the grave mistake of watching Lady Gaga videos on YouTube. I can't get "Bad Romance" out of my head. Time for a Bartok string quartet to clear the tracks – No. 4, 5th mov't, that usually does the trick.

Ten nominees for Best Picture? Why not 100. I mean, come on.

I read somewhere that the best $70 investment ever made went toward a heated mattress pad. I concur. It's 5:53 p.m. and I'm seriously considering slipping into bed with a few chapters to revise, the heat dials set somewhere between 3 and 4.

I'm still pissed that Favre threw that int with 9 seconds left. I know, let it go.

I'm rewriting Jonas's concluding speech to Julia and it's interesting what's coming up. Goodbye Mr. Burns, hello embittered Citizen Kane.

This morning I had the privilege of playing older brother/therapist to my youngest sister, a role I enjoy almost as much as offering friendly advice to strangers about things I know nothing about. It's the co-dependent in me. I just can't help offering my take on things when asked. Friends kid me that I never answer "yes" or "no" to yes-and-no questions.

Okay, time to revise...