My apartment complex has two tennis courts, but I have no one to play tennis with. It makes me sad. All day today, because I actually don't have to do any homework today for a change, I've been thinking about how nice it would be to go out and play tennis for a couple of hours...but no one.

Every where I go, Easter candy taunts me. I want to get a thing of candy beans, people. A whole thing.

V for Vendetta in fifteen minutes. (V. funny, but OMG, if you haven't seen the movie yet, don't read it. And if you haven't seen the movie yet, OMG DO IT.)

Why for is Grissom not on CSI? Whatev.

Yay! I ordered some buttons from TWoP, and they got here super-fast, and it's always a lovely surprise to open up your mailbox and have something there earlier than you expected. Check them out:



So cool. Usually the TWoP merchandise is pretty cute, but nothing extraordinary, but these I had to get right away.

I hate when you're in your pajamas and it's late and you get a sudden urge for, like, a cinnamon roll or something. Not that that just happened to me or anything. Sigh.

A silly survey:

Open your music player, set it to random, and write down the titles of the first 10 songs that come up. Then add "in my pants" to each title.

1. Someday We'll Be Together In My Pants
2. It Had To Be You In My Pants
3. Takin' It To The Streets In My Pants
4. The Beekeeper In My Pants
5. The Dinner Party In My Pants (this was my favorite one until...)
6. Stuck In A Rut In My Pants
7. The Chain In My Pants
8. Masquerade In My Pants
9. Listen To The Music In My Pants
10. Baltar Panics In My Pants (...this one)

This morning, I experienced my first honest-to-God thunderstorm down here in Austin, which was very exciting. Real, cracking thunder, heavy rain; the fun was slightly marred by the constant braying of a hundred car alarms. Car alarms don't really work. When you hear one, you don't think, "Oh my God, someone's breaking into a car!" You think, "Oh my God, someone walked past a car!"

I'm coming home and I get on the bus, and it's pretty crowded, but right in front of the door is a girl sitting against the window with her bag in the aisle seat. I ask her if I can sit there, and she glares at me, and then moves her bag without saying a word. I'm having a good day, so it was amusing rather than being annoying; like hell I'm going to stand so that you don't have to have the inconvenience of moving your bag to the floor (or, God forbid, your lap). I mean, what did she expect? I managed to not laugh in her face, though, so that worked out.

You know on the Colbert Report, his sign of people who are dead to him? Mitch Hurwitz is on mine.