"I never could get the hang of Thursdays"

Pfft. Weird day. I just couldn't quite seem to get my head together. I've been tense and bitchy and irrational all week - the kind of depression that feels like you just did a line of crystal meth and drank a double scotch and got all the bad effects of both, but none of the benefits. Feh.

Thanks, Dubya.

Tomorrow, at least, is Friday, and I'm heading down to VA after work to see IlyAimy and The Dreamscapes Project at the Jammin' Java, in an effort to balance out the week by putting the coolness all at the end. Well, not all of it - I did get my Earth Covers Earth CD yesterday, and scored a used copy of Coil's Horse Rotorvator (speaking of Balance, ha ha) earlier in the week, so it hasn't all been fucked-up and weird, only mostly.

Not that Coil isn't fucked-up and weird, just in a cool way and not an annoying way. Um.

Oh, I also broke down at last and got myself a French press (take that, stupid national Francophobia) like I've been promising myself for a year and a half. I figured now's a good a time as any, since I'm a week away from entertaining another coffee connoiseur/junkie and I'll take any excuse to make a big pitcher of spoon-eating opaque java the way it's meant to be had and then inflict it on other people. And it comes with its own coaster! How cool is that?

So, yeah, a week from now this will be my Friday, and I'll be resting up for a big weekend of geeking out with Spyder (who is coming, undeterred by orange-alert paranoia, because when you work in the shadow of the Empire State Building in these troubled times, nothing fuckin' scares you anymore) and trying to think of fun things to do around Our Fair City. Normally I wouldn't worry about that sort of thing, but, quoth she, "I should at least pretend I didn't just watch movies for three days," and I sympathize; I remember all too well when I returned from my New York adventure last fall and having everyone ask me what I did all day, and wishing I had a more interesting answer than "sit in a Starbucks for five hours and have a big dorkgasm."

And speaking of travelling to cool places to do fun things, Stacy booked our fifth-anniversary trip to New Orleans tonight. Wheee! I dunno about anyone else, but for me, a long weekend of waking up and getting the buzz on in the Goth Capital of America is about as romantic as anything could possibly be, in every sense of the word. And it beats the hell out of freezing our asses off on the beach, which is not the most hospitable place in the middle of May.

Wooch. Five years. I don't feel grown-up enough to have been married for five years. Whatever is the world coming to?