November 5th, 2004


Woa yeah. Life goes on.

You can't stay at a fever pitch forever. You'll give yourself a heart attack.

And at some point, you get a little distracted from the global things that are pissing you off when there are stupid people right in front of you, within bitch-slapping distance, pissing you off.

Yes, I'm still upset and angry and I still have a lot of things to write about it. And I owe some replies, too.

But it's Friday. The time of week when a young queen of snark's fancy turns to margaritas strong enough to strip the paint off the walls and running around the table hugging friends I haven't seen all week! and getting so excited I do that squealy thing that drives poor leopard_print up the wall and murmuring things in my boyfriend's ear that make him blush and ask how long we really have to stay at afterparty.

There's still a lot of beauty in the world. Give yourself the weekend off. Plant a tree, pet a kitty. As a line from one of my favorite romance novels (The Proposition, by Judith Ivory, a fun gender switch on Shaw's Pygmalion -- I used to read romance novels back before I got too cynical) goes, "Life be rich. Why don't you bite yourself off a piece?"

Oh, and purgatorius has a great take on what it feels like to try to go back to normal blogging after the election:

Good afternoon, Mister Purgatorius-- we're glad you could speak with us tod--

(Takes bong hit).
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