MP3 time and a Mulder/Scully dream

And by "MP3" I don't mean music...I'm talking about Melrose Place season 3, which I received as a birthday present. It's the perfect Tuesday night activity when there's nothing else on TV to watch...and I guess it's the perfect writers strike activity as well, since who knows when the heck I'll be able to watch all of my beloved shows again after they disappear off the air. I already miss The Office, and I preemptively miss Heroes, too. At any rate, at least I've got Melrose and the second season of Supernatural to watch. And I'll probably re-watch Veronica Mars at some point. The most fantastic thing about Melrose Place is that there are 30 episodes-- 30! Back when TV shows were actually on for the duration of an entire school year, and didn't take ample and abundant hiatuses to interrupt the flow of the storyline. I wish I could say that MP3 will provide me with several weeks of viewing pleasure, but the reality is that I will probably end up watching season 3 in its entirety by the end of this extended weekend.

Speaking of TV shows, the other night I had a dream about Mulder and Scully. I can't really remember the details, except that Scully was out of the picture for a little while and it was just me and Fox--er, Mulder. I miss the X-files. I can't wait until the movie comes out. I hope there's a really inappropriate sex scene between Mulder and Scully-- and no, I'm not ashamed to admit it.

I've officially reached an all-time low/high

Today I started work at 5:15pm...and ended at 8pm. Thus is the life that I lead now.

Egghead

A few days ago, I was walking toward my car (parked on the street a block away from my apartment building) when I noticed what appeared to be an unusually large amount of bird crap splattered on the passenger side of my windshield. Upon closer inspection of the inordinate splatter-span of the alleged bird doo-doo haphazardly splashed on my car, I realized that it wasn't avian fecal matter at all, but rather the yolk of an egg smeared across my windshield, congealed in unsightly globules of goo, complete with egg shards protruding from the hardened yolk that tainted the window and top of my car.

I was egged-- without warning, without cause, and, seemingly, without intent to harm.

Interesting and disturbing fact

I just learned this on TLC: 25 million operations occur in the U.S. each year; of those 25 million surgeries, 1 in 15,000 people will have a surgical tool left inside them.

Apparently I'm a lot cooler than I used to be...

Last week, a woman approached me as I was walking to my car. She told me that she really liked the way I "put myself together" and that I looked "very nice." (For the record, I was wearing a knee-length black skirt, black tights with this funky flower pattern on them, a purple shirt, a black cardigan, and heels). I thought, what a nice compliment, and then she added that she was a fashion designer. I couldn't help but think that if she only saw how I dressed on other days, she'd probably take back her compliment.