Madly in love

I'm so madly in love I can hardly contain myself! I just received this photo of my little sweetheart yesterday and I have to share it with the world...


My niece is THE AWESOMEST creature in the universe. And look - she makes the cutest lion EVER!

rawr!

I think my heart just exploded. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do when my nephew is born. Oy! Do you run out of love, or does it multiply exponentially?

Astrology

Astrology is another one of those kooky things that fascinates me. I actually had an astrological reading done about 2 years ago. Now, this isn't something I put too much faith in. I do look at all of this with a healthy skepticism.

Point/counterpoint: Christine told me that I would be going from full-time to part time at my old job, then have a fantastic job interview mid-December, and start that job right after the new year - I thought, "Yeah right." But that's exactly what happened. Spooookeee... She also predicted that I'd be pregnant with twins the following February, which was waaay off.

There's a website called Astrodienst where you can enter in your birthday, time of birth, and location of birth, and it will generate a natal chart like this:

[I cropped out my personal data.]

There are also some free analyses based on your chart which, like I said, is based solely on your DOB, time of birth, and location of birth. Healthy skepticism, remember?

I thought I'd share some of the more interesting snippets, for your amusement.

From the "Personal Portrait" short report
Text by Robert Pelletier, Copyright © Astrodienst AG 2008

...You take life at a leisurely pace. You form opinions slowly and reflectively and can become obstinate in the views you do adopt.
...Your inner nature is conciliatory and compromising, for you value balance and symmetry above all. In love you choose a partner carefully and conduct your courtship with great patience.
...You were born with a natural disposition to be humane, sympathetic, original and refined in your dealings with others. Among your features is the ability to understand human nature in a sympathetic manner.
...You have a natural inclination toward the esoteric and mystical side of life and you could develop some clairvoyant abilities.
...Although changeable in appearance, your life is guided by very definite and fixed principles, one of which is a constant demand for personal freedom.
...There exists a vast reservoir of creativity which could be successfully applied to such pursuits as writing and poetry.
...Your mind appears as very adaptable, gentle, peace-loving and tactful. This position indicates that the secret for your ability to reach a state of harmony and emotional balance may come through the use of your higher mental powers.

From the "Forecast" short report
Text by Robert Hand, Copyright © Astrodienst AG 2008

Beginning of October 2008 until beginning of July 2009: This influence indicates a time of equilibrium in your life, when the demands of the world are in balance with your emotional needs. Emotional maturity and past experiences have prepared you for this, and now you can put your understanding to work to make your life run more smoothly. Tensions that in the past have seemed to pull you in opposite directions are now working in balance and harmony.
...At this time your emotional attitude is sober. Your mental state is relatively quiet, and you can see objectively what is true for you, what your needs are and how much you can give and get from others. Your domestic life and your work reinforce each other, and you are able to attend to both without sacrificing either.

Mid October 2008 until end of July 2009: At this time your relationships will work for you in very practical ways. You understand how you need to have others work with you, and you are willing to meet the other person's needs within a relationship as long as he or she does the same for you.
...On the whole, all your relationships will achieve a degree of stability at this time. Ultimately relationships survive only if they are able to satisfy the real needs of the people involved. You are particularly conscious of this now, so you examine your relationships accordingly. The more real your relationships are now, the better.

I'm totally leaving out the "Love, Flirtation, and Sex" short report. If you're interested, I'll email it to you and you can have a big ol' laugh - but I'm not posting on the web!

Post-Divorce Dating for Dummies

I'm working on a self-help book, Post-Divorce Dating for Dummies. Of course if the "For Dummies" people don't hire me, I'll need to tweak the title.

While I'm still in the research phase of the writing process, I'll give you an exclusive sneak preview of what I'm working on:

Chapter 1: What the hell happened? Waking up from your divorce-induced stupor and realizing that the dating climate has completely changed from what is was like, you know, back then.

Chapter 2: Taking stock before you take on stalking. The often-overlooked art of reflecting on the past before barreling forward.

Chapter 3: You're not as perky as you used to be. The good news is: neither is he.

Chapter 4: Taming your bodily functions. So you've spent the last eight years engaged in the sport of competitive belching. How to put a lid on it long enough to make a good impression.

Chapter 5: First aid for first dates. Or, what to do when he has a panic attack.

Chapter 6: Cunning linguistics. Which conversation starters are appropriate, and which ones you should save for your therapist.

Chapter 7: Remind me again how to get to first base? Including step-by-step diagrams and flowcharts. And a handy wallet card.

Chapter 8: I shaved my legs for this? Reframing a miserable date into a character-building learning experience.

Chapter 9: Whose baggage is it anyway? How to determine which issues are yours, which ones are hers, and whether or not it really matters.

That will have to tide you over until I do some more intensive research, or I sign my seven-figure publishing deal.

By the way... this idea is, like, so totally copyrighted now.

Got cable?

Can I... uh... come over to your place and watch TV?

It just occurred to me the yesterday that I'm totally missing out on all the awesomely scary October programming. Like where they go into haunted places and do stupid shit to piss off ghosts? Or where they send a [family/bunch of celebrities/group of college kids] into some ridiculous place infested with boogeymen, strap a bunch of cameras on them, and make 'em do crazy rituals?

I swear I won't mooch your snacks. I'll even do chores around the house during the commercials. Dishes. Vacuuming. Dusting. Paying bills. Taking Floofy out to tinkle. Can I change the sheets for you? Want me to handwash those silky underbritches? I'll do anything. As long as it can be accomplished in 90-second bursts.

You'd be amazed at what I can do in 90 seconds.

*wink wink nudge nudge*

Huh? Nope, no innuendo. I had something in my eye. And a tic in my elbow.

On Notice (again): My Uterus

This is your second notice.

Look, we’ve been working together for 21 years now. We ought to be able to come to some kind of agreement. Yes, I know our 4 years with IUD were great. But you just can’t invite Fibroid into the mix and expect everything to be hunky dory. I replaced IUD, thinking she was burned out from the increased squabbling, but her replacement lasted less than 30 days. Boy was I pissed when I realized that Fibroid was to blame – and you’ve been enabling him this whole time. In fact, you are the only reason he showed up in the first place.

Since you ignored repeated requests to sever all ties with Fibroid, I took the advice of a consultant and implemented a 3 month leave of absence, with the option of only requiring your services once per quarter afterwards. You were notified in a timely manner and you were provided with the necessary resources to adjust to this new performance plan.

You can imagine my surprise when you showed up for work, an overachieving 4 days earlier than your normal schedule - and a full two months prior to when our agreed-upon trial separation was to end. While I admire your enthusiasm and dedication, please know that this constitutes insubordination and will not be tolerated.

Not only have you disobeyed strict orders from upper management, but you have obviously misinterpreted the terms of our renegotiated contract, including:

• Transitioning to a 12 week cycle, NOT a 3.5 week cycle,
• A decrease in output, not an increase (as counterintuitive as that may be), and
• A dramatic slash in excruciating pain and constant nausea. Your 2% reduction is just not going to cut it.

I think it’s only fair that I give you until the end of the quarter to make improvements. Please be advised that corrective action will be taken if adequate progress has not been made.

P.S. You can create your own "On Notice" board here.

Upping my nerd quotient

It's official. I'm making the switch.

I'm going Linux.

*nerdgasm*

Yep. I'm gonna hose my machine and go all-out, balls to the wall NERD.

I'll be joining the ranks of users who thumb their noses at 'intellectual property' - or, more likely, folks who just don't feel like forking out big wads of cash to upgrade to the latest, overpriced, overstuffed, memory-hogging operating systems and productivity suites. Yeah. Take that, capitalism.

Now if you'll excyoooz me... I've got some tutorials to read...

Wow. Did I just add dork on top of nerd?

Aloneness

I turned 32 the other day. I celebrated my birthday by spending it alone - and it was the best gift I could have given myself.

Aloneness is not about emptiness or isolation or loneliness. It’s about having space to explore the self. It’s about letting the noise of life slip away and listening to the harmony within. It’s about exploring both separateness and interconnectedness.

Aloneness is a state of being so often avoided by our society. Why? Is it that uncomfortable to stop and hear the thoughts in our heads? Is it that terrifying to acknowledge our true feelings? Is being ourselves so painful that we can only survive by drowning out our true nature? By desperately grasping onto someone or something to distract us from ourselves?

"...[T]here is a tremendous difference between loneliness and aloneness... Loneliness is a negative state... Loneliness is the absence of the other. Aloneness is the presence of oneself. Aloneness is very positive. It is a presence, overflowing presence...

"When there is no 'significant other' in our lives we can either be lonely, or enjoy the freedom that solitude brings. When we find no support among others for our deeply felt truths, we can either feel isolated and bitter, or celebrate the fact that our vision is strong enough even to survive the powerful need for the approval of family, friends or colleagues."

~ Osho Zen Tarot

The Pied Piper of Hutzovina

I'm still freakin' obsessed with Gogol Bordello. Particularly Eugene Hutz. Here's the trailer for The Pied Piper of Hutzovina, a documentary following Hutz on a journey to rediscover his gypsy roots.



There's nothing more electrifying that seeing Gogol Bordello live. I'm already planning for their upcoming shows in D.C. Yep. Plural. They're playing two nights in a row at the 9:30 Club, and I just might have to attend both. Well... if I survive the first show.

The last time I went to a Gogol Bordello concert... it was June, and I absentmindedly wore my Chacos to the show. My feet were numb within minutes, and it wasn't until I hit the ladies room afterwards that I realized I had lost a few toenails. Or rather, "several of my toenails were brutally ripped off from getting stomped on by frenzied fans."

I've never really thought of myself as being "delicate," but HOLY HELL! I guess I needed to be smashed in a sea of rabid gypsy punk fans to truly understand just how delicate I really was. Did it occur to me to take any friends along? Nah. "This will be an adventure!"

So it was me against a hundreds of testosterone-fueled Y-chromosomes.

Being slammed up against hundreds of strangers was kinda weird. I had no choice but to move as the crowd moved, jump as the crowd jumped. Within 30 minutes, my clothes were soaked with the sweat of at least 20 different people. And I didn't need to worry about passing out and getting trampled on - we were so smashed in together that it would have been impossible to actually fall to the ground.

Eventually everyone was throwing elbows trying to preserve their personal space. There was one ass in particular who kept digging his elbow into my chest. Do you not notice this uniquely mushy padding that your appendage is ramming into??? GET YOUR GODDAMN ELBOW OUTTA MY TIT! I either punched him or jabbed a very angry fingernail into his arm. I don’t remember.

I didn't realize until the next day just how many muscles I had been using trying to protect myself. I could barely walk. When my alarm clock went off, I nearly fell on my face trying to engage what was left of my muscles. And my mood... holy crap, I was a completely different person! My aura had been infected by the toxic sludge of male aggression. I was one angry BITCH. It took me several days to re-socialize myself.

Do I want to do it all over again? HELL YEAH.

Sooo... my GB survival kit will include no less than: one titanium sports bra, one pair of steel-toed boots, one bottle of Advil, one set of dry clothes, and at least one linebacker to help buffer me from the stupid "moshers."

I should start drafting my Craigslist ad now.

Wanted: One kind-hearted beefcake to stand next to me for 4 hours. Dinner, drinks, and cover charge provided.

Mishto!

Ditching FeedBlitz

Gentle Reader,

I have decided to ditch FeedBlitz. Why? I dunno. Cuz I want to. Or maybe because they just asked me for way too much personal information. My street address is required you say? Oh... in that case... it's 1234 Noneya Dam Bidness in Armpit, VA.

For those of you who are subscribing to my blog through FeedBlitz, you'll want to find another way to stay up-to-date on the latest musans. May I suggest an RSS feed? No, I'm not going to explain RSS to you. Quoth my colleague, "Put on your big girl panties and deal with it." So go google "RSS." You'll find charming articles like this one:

How to explain RSS the Oprah way

I'll be nuking FeedBlitz sometime this weekend.

Tah tah!
Susan

Under Pressure

Today I noticed that my car wasn’t running as smoothly as it should. As I was driving around I thought, "Hmmm... seems like the front right tire might need a bit of air..."

Okay, ladies: no matter what the circumstances are, guys are going to stare at any woman checking her tires. No matter what you’re wearing, no matter what you look like, no matter how young or old you are, no matter how hard you try to bend over in a way that won't draw too much attention to your ass and/or breasts – they're gonna stare. I'm no guy, so I can't tell you what they're thinking, but I'll go out on a limb here and say that, 'Holy shit! It's a woman checking her tires!" is at least part of it. There's no way to just 'blend in.' You will be noticed.

That being said...

I pulled over at a gas station. Checked all four tires. Popped my two quarters into the machine. Did my best minimize 'the view,' and started adding air to the front right tire. Checked the tire pressure again. No change. Added more air. Checked the tire pressure again. Still no change. Hmmm. Added more air. Checked the tire pressure again. Still no change. What the hell? I know I had the nozzle correctly seated in the valve. I know I was squeezing the right lever (ya know, the only lever). I know how use a tire pressure gauge. THIS IS NOT A COMPLICATED PROCESS! I inspected my gauge. There was bit of grease on the readout, which could’ve been the reason why the stupid thing kept stopping at 26 psi. Okay... so I wiped that onto my shirt and tried again. Damn! As I was checking to see if the air coming out of the pump had much force behind it - looking quite perplexed as I sprayed air at my other hand - I looked up and saw a gentleman watching me while he was filling his tank.

Great. Just the image I was going for. A dumb blonde who can’t figure out how to work the air "thingie."

Now I’m pissed. Determined to at least appear to have a few neurons firing in my brain, I added more air. Then I released a lot, knowing full well that by now I had overinflated the damn thing. Then proceeded to fiddle around. Moved to the rear tire. Fiddled around some more. Once the pump shut off, I coolly hung the hose up and walked back to my car. Yep. I properly inflated all four tires. You just didn’t see me do the driver's side cuz, uh, I did that before you pulled up. Yeah. Bye now.

I know it wasn’t me. I know it was that stupid gauge. It had to have been! I drove over to Advance Auto to replace the treasonous bitch. Why is it that whenever you go into Advance, all the clerks are busy helping customers? WTF? I just need a tire pressure gauge. Stop laughing. While I might not know my way around the rows of car parts, I do know that they keep this kind of thing out in plain sight near the front, and I’m pretty sure I can determining the right one for the make, model, and year of my car. Der. My point is that I had to wait forever for someone to ring up my costly purchase. [Jesco? Anyone? Anyone???]

And by the way... gals... don’t buy one with a digital readout, or one that talks to you, or has any other unnecessary feature that involves a battery. The battery will die before the next time you remember to pull it out of the glove box again. And if it looks like metal, but feels like plastic – go up a level. Go ahead. Splurge.

So I get back in my car, wondering how far I need to drive to the next air pump in order to avoid my previous witnesses... and it started to rain.

I give up.


You may have won this round - but I swear I’m gonna get you back tomorrow, you rubber rolling bastards! When I’m through with you *shakes fist* you’re gonna be so properly full of air you won’t know what hit ya!

I forgot to mention:

I hate plastic-coated paper clips. They infuriate me. I'm not kidding.

On Notice: My Uterus

I woke up this morning ready to sit down and compose a carefully worded letter to my uterus. Apparently I'm not the only one blogging about this topic - so I'll let the other gals speak for me. Bravo, ladies!

Tesserewhon's memo

A letter from Lotus

Nutcase 101 has a few words of her own.

Something from Awkwardly Social

And this one sparked quite a few replies - even from the menfolk.

Uterus: even though these gals beat me to it, don't think for a minute that you are off the hook. You are officially 'On Notice.'

P.S. You can create your own "On Notice" board here.

Susan's Movie Musans: Mamma Mia

WARNING: This entry may violate my own code of blogging ethics (see April 3, 2008, "I'm baaaaaack!")

Mamma Mia SUCKED!!! I’m not a religious person - but OH SWEET MOTHER OF GOD GET THESE DAMN SONGS OUT OF MY HEAD!!! HOLY F***ING CHRIST that was probably the most excruciating movie I have EVER seen! It could be that I just didn’t “get it.” I have a feeling I’d need to be at least 10 years older and a fan of ABBA to truly – um, appreciate? – the pain and torture of this celluloid catastrophe. WTF was up with all the women in the theatre? I have never seen so many women get so into a movie. They were hootin’ and carrying on like school girls at a damn Elvis concert. What the hell???

As soon as I got in my car I popped in some Offspring, cranked it up as loud as I could stand it and went for a drive. Sure, Rage Against the Machine would probably have been more effective, but you gotta work with what you have, right? It wasn’t until I hit Narrows that I figured I should turn around and go back home. My bladder agreed.

I thought I had successfully purged the demons from my brain, but nooooooooo... as soon as my head hit the pillow those damn songs started replaying! And the dancing - dear god, the dancing!!! HELP ME!!! I NEED AN EXORCIST!!!



I'm sure some of you have a very different opinion of this creation. Go ahead. Flame me.

Officially divorced...

...as of August 7, 2008.

(I just found out this morning.)

Why We Love Rubber Ducks

A friend asked, "So what do you think the rubber duckies mean?" *Shrug.* I did a quick google search and found this article at rubaduck.com:

Why We Love Rubber Ducks

Here's an excerpt...

"To speak of a rubber duck conjures images of good clean fun, warmth and play, a harkening back to simple childhood delights, when bathtime was lots of fun and life was a continuous adventure of discovery and delight. The humble rubber duck has become a symbol for the innocence and joy of childhood, the idyllic state of newness, a natural and unaffected view that regrounds us, in one swipe washes clean our perspective and leaves us free of cynicism, resignation and the dirt and dust of weary travels on the harsh road of life. A rubber duckie is an iconic reminder of the flawless, youthful best of life. Rubber duckie, we are awfully fond of you."

Perfect.

Happiness is...

...growing DOWN.

The duckies make me giggle.

The colors make me giggle too.

Why yes, that is a bobble-head duckie soap dispenser.

Even my toothbrush is giggling.

I decided several months ago that I needed to replace what I had. And about a month ago I started actively searching for the "perfect" shower curtain. (Shower curtain first - towels/bath mats are easy to coordinate.) I went to store after store, multiple times. I shopped by myself. I shopped with a friend. I hunted online. I even went to several stores when I was in Richmond. No luck. I was getting very grumpy. It's not that I couldn't find anything I liked, I just couldn't find anything that I'd want hanging in my bathroom. I wanted something "fresh" (like flowers!) and hopefully something with some purple in it (my favorite color!)... and I realized that's exactly what I already had. Hrmph.

I went shopping with my mom today to give it one more shot. We stopped at store #1. No luck. Store #2 - no luck there either. But I did find a birthday present for The Cutest Niece in The Universe. (Shhh!) Mom and I finally trudged into store #3. I was starting to get that grumpy/whiney feeling again. I checked out one bath aisle, then another, and then I finally went into the kiddie section, just for schnicks and giggles. And there it was: a yellow duckie collection. The little girl in me squealed and clapped with delight. (Well, so did the big girl...) Mom laughed. (At me? Or was she giggling with glee too?) After a few minutes of "Is this too crazy?" I realized my quest had come to an end. Then came the fun of picking out matching towels. Bright yellow? Hell yeah! Day-glo orange? Bring it on! Hot pink??? I do believe I will, thank you very much!

So this is my new bathroom decor. It's bright. It's cheerful. It's nothing I would normally pick out. Maybe hanging out with my 23-month-old niece all weekend put me in happy-go-lucky, child-like state of mind. Who knows - I may wake up one day (PMS?) and go, "What the **** was I thinking? This **** is OBNOXIOUS!" and rip everything to shreds with my teeth. But for now... I love it.

C is for...

Unnamed Evil Menstrual Monster 'C.'

Crabby, cranky, and crass. Crazed by the cruelty of crippling cramps. Critical carbohydrate craving crisis. Crumbling into a crying clutter of crude crimson clots.

C is also for Chacos. At least my tootsies are comfortably content.

Susan's Menstrual Musans

Welcome to the very first "Too Much Information" edition of Susan's Musans. DISCLAIMER: This post may violate rules 1, 2, and 3 as outlined below (see April 3, 2008, "I'm baaaaaack!"). Any past, present, or potential employers, mothers, or suitors may wish to turn back before it's too late. You have been warned.

It appears that my cycle has shifted. "Aunt Flo" changed her flight and decided to visit early. Opening the door to see Aunt Flo's shining face is bittersweet. On the one hand, I'm relieved that I'm not pregnant - not that I'm sexually active. (Hi Mom!) No, every month I have this fear that I'll be the next winner in the Immaculate Conception Lottery and I'll have to dedicate my remaining years on this spiraling slab of asphalt behaving like the kind of mother worthy of introducing the next Messiah to the world. [*SHUDDER*] Thanks, but I believe I'll pass.

The "bitter" part of my reunion with Flo is realizing that one more egg has been flushed down the toilet. Yes, that's right folks - my biological clock has officially started ticking. I'm not sure when it started, but I just can't deny it any longer. This would be the part where any would-be suitors are supposed to turn and RUN LIKE HELL!!! Save yourselves! Retreat before you are trapped by the gravitational pull of my pheromones! If you're not scared yet - keep reading and discover what happens when my hormones run amok.

Back to the matter of Aunt Flo's change in travel plans... I'm not complaining about the rescheduling - quite the contrary. Flo's arrival is typically preceded by 7 days worth of raging hormonal turmoil, the worst of which falls during the work week and includes at least one day in which I am possessed by an evil and rather unruly demon - who needs a name, by the way... post a reply if you've got any suggestions... alliteration is a must...

Unnamed Evil Menstrual Monster 'A' ('A' is for 'Appetite') typically has me stomping around like Godzilla searching for comfort food, destroying anything or anyone who dares to stand in my way. Unnamed Evil Menstrual Monster 'A' usually appears on a Wednesday. Today is Monday. I'm guessing that the feedbag full of buttered popcorn I devoured Saturday night while watching Nim's Island must've warded off the beast like holy water and a garland of garlic. Speaking of garlic, I'm certain that the Pokey Sticks and garlic butter Friday night helped too. I also seem to have missed the presence of Unnamed Evil Menstrual Monster 'B' ('B' is for 'Bitch'). Either my body is getting accustomed to my pill-induced hormonal fluctuations, or I've stumbled upon the solution for minimizing the detrimental effects of PMS...

Thursday: first day without "active" pill - no noticeable side effects.

Friday: schedule an evening of margaritas (margaritas... menstruation... both start with an 'M'... coincidence? methinks not!), topped off with a healthy (?) dose of carbohydrates smothered in cheese.

Saturday: Sleep late. Very late. This minimizes the number of at-risk hours of consciousness being possessed by demons A & B. Replenish carbohydrates.

Sunday: Rinse. Repeat.

This may be superstition. I don't know. But like the winning quarterback wearing the same unwashed jockstrap all season, I'm willing to take one for the team.

I'm baaaaaack!

Yes, I'm still alive. Those of you who know me already know that I've been struggling with a few things since my last post... (geez, was that really 6 months ago???) Those of you who don't know me will just have to use your imagination, for there are rules governing what I will post on my blog:

Number 1: Thou shalt not post anything thou wouldst not want thy boss (or future boss) to read.

Number 2: Thou shalt not post anything thou wouldst not want thy mother to read. For me, this isn't much of a limitation - she's a good sport and has put up with my shenanigans for long enough that I can actually get her laughing so hard she pees or farts. Hi Mom! I love you!

NEW! Number 3: Thou shalt not trash thy soon-to-be-ex on the internet (or at least not until the divorce is final). That would just be rude. Or bad karma. Or something like that.

Do stay tuned. A new round of PMS is coming up - and I promise to delight and entertain the masses with my rants about co-workers who can't seem to grasp the concept of refilling ice cube trays, UGG (UGH!) boots, and those comically large sunglasses that "the kids" are wearing these days, pretending to be some kind of celebrity trying to hide their identity and "blend" into the crowd unnoticed. At Subway. Wearing UGH! boots. And sweatpants. WTF???

My Latest Fascination

I first heard this band on a radio station I listen to over the internet at work (in case you are curious, it's 94.9 fm in San Diego and it is AWESOME!)

The band is Gogol Bordello. Their style is gypsy punk. Yes, you read that correctly. It is a bizarre, perplexing fusion of gypsy and punk. I heard a song or two of theirs on 94.9 and was intrigued. I checked them out on YouTube. Some of the band members dress in traditional punk attire, some look like they belong to a wandering gypsy ensemble, roaming around from village to village. The band includes a violin and an accordion. In addition to playing the acoustic guitar, the lead singer also plays the "fire buckets." Still fascinated, but still undecided about whether I liked their music, or just the idea of their music.

Then I discovered that they are playing locally. HOLY SCHNIEKY! When I was exploring the band on the internet, I read that their live performances were quite a spectacle and not to be missed. I was determined to get tickets to this concert. At only 10 bucks a pop for non-student tickets, it was worth the risk.

I had dinner last night with a buddy of mine who presented me with a gift card to Barnes & Noble as a belated birthday gift. Methinks, hmm... I'm in the mood to meander around a bookstore looking for a treat... Lucky me actually found the new release from Gogol Bordello in the CD section. Jackpot. I've been listening to it all morning at work and... it's... official...

I AM A GOGOL BORDELLO FAN.

And I get to see them live tonight!