Six Unimportant Things About Yours Truly

Okay, SG. I’ll bite.

1) My all-time favorite TV cop shows are in ranked order: 1) “Homicide: LOTS”, 2) “The Shield”, and; 3) “The Wire”.

2) I once had a serious boyhood TV crush on Christine McGlade (AKA: Moose) of Nickelodeon’s “You Can’t Do That On Television”, Canada's kiddie version of “Laugh-In.” During this period, I sent Christine a fan letter saying she was “very pretty,” and inwardly panicked at the prospect of her suddenly appearing at my house one Saturday afternoon to thank me for my sweet nothings, and ask if I’d like to join her at the arcade for a few rounds of “Jungle Hunt.” Christine never did show up, but I did get a nice postcard from Nick thanking me for watching their shows. That was nice of them.

3) My current boyhood TV crush is Reiko Aylesworth who is gorgeous and spicy, in a one-quarter Japanese kind of way.

4) During each Winter Olympiad, I become a fair-weather bobsledding fan.

5) My earliest memory dates somewhere around age three (1971) of a summer trip to Texas my parents and I took to visit relatives.

PS: Am currently seeking out six pals (with blogs) to continue this onward.

Change of Season

On this first gray and dreary Opening Day in Chicago, I think it’s safe to assume I’m finally hockeyed out for the next several months – especially after last night’s game at the UC between the Blackhawks and Columbus.

Although the home folk climbed out of a 3-1 deficit to win in an OT shoot-out, the game was almost painful to watch. Once again, the Hawks proved the embodiment of a hot-and-cold team, with three games left to cover a three-point gap for the post-season.

We’ll see what happens, of course.

But on the upside, at the stadium I fulfilled a minor dream by scoring a, yes, a tee styled after Stan Mikita’s Donuts: the fantasy munch-post from “Wayne’s World” allegedly located in my hometown of Aurora, Illinois (the one without the palm trees and mountains in the background).

Sadly, there’s nothing remotely as slick as Mikita’s (and its excellent sugar pucks) or Gasworks in our fair corner of sprawl.

Yet rumor has it Johnny Depp will be around this weekend shooting “Public Enemies,” a biopic based (loosely, I’m sure) on the life of bank robber John Dillinger, shot down in 1934 by The Man beside Chicago’s Biograph Theatre (the Aurora shoot is at the refurbished Paramount Theatre, which I assume is standing in for the actual Biograph).

A casting call for the two-day shoot has gone out for local extras, which had me intrigued. However, males are required to be less than 6”2 tall (which excludes me at 6”3), plus my hair is too short.

Oh, well. I wasn’t relishing the thought of sitting this weekend out anyhow.

If you’ve never been an extra in a film or TV show, it’s an interesting one-time experience, but incredibly dull.

A few years back, I was an extra for a day on the TV series “Early Edition” (CBS) for a bar scene. I got to the set (in Chicago) at 5AM, but did not make it on stage for six more hours. This is par for the course on film and TV sets (e.g. hurry up and wait), which makes me marvel that anything gets done at all. Anyhow, as personal gratuity for my lost time, I stole a prop—a ballcap—from a mock display case.

I also learned that Hollywood union boys have it sweet on set, enjoying tables piled up with snacks, and eating before any extra, who must sit and wait (again) for the crew to finish before stepping up to the Craft truck themselves. Yet not all was so bad: both the crew and stage manager were nice. Plus, it was fun to see the inner workings of TV production, and Kyle Chandler spectacularly flub his lines.

That is all.

(Not Just) Another Brick In The Walk

Yesterday, in the sunny cold—sounds like a contradiction, but no—of Chicago, my brother and I made our way to Wrigley Field to locate our late father’s memorial brick I ordered last year, and were flustered at how many we had to search through.

Among the thousands laid into the pavement in front of and to the south of Wrigley, various bricks were installed in groupings named after former Cubs players (e.g. Dawson, Sandberg, et al). However, upon receiving my replica brick last week, the Cubs organization failed—as they did with other memorial brick recipients, I would learn—to indicate in which section ours was located.

Thus, Scott and I searched for nearly an hour alongside others just as frustrated as we were. Yet just as both of us—in the throes of burgeoning eye-strain headaches—were about to pack it in, and try again another day, I spotted our dad’s brick beside ticket booth #14 to the left of the park’s front gates.

It was rewarding to see it there, and I took a few pics, including one of myself and Camille (who came along to supervise).

Now I Ain't No Fancy Big City Lawyer, But....

Once again, Joey Farah over at WorldNutDaily proves why he’s no constitutional scholar, much less a fair-minded journalist.

In his latest misadventure in logic, Joey claims to have a constitutional basis against Roe v. Wade.

His master stroke of legal thinking?

That the constitution’s preamble—which describes an intent to “secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity,” with “posterity” meaning “decendants”—is a legal guarantee to defend the lives of future generations (i.e. the unborn).

Here, I have to give Joey a little credit: his interpretation of the preamble as related to Roe is indeed creative. However, his argument fails when one considers that unlike the rest of the constitution and its descriptions of state procedure and various amendments, the preamble is not legally binding.

It is a broad introductory statement with no ironclad specifics described therein.

So once again, Joey proves to be both spectacularly wrong, and probably the last guy fit to lecture anyone on constitutional law beyond, say, L. Ron Hubbard.

Idol Worship

If there were a pagan goddess of masturbation for teenage boys, Isoroku Yamamoto would be it.

"Do I make you feel funny, American man-child san? Yes, I do!"

Skipping Friartown

Not that you asked, but after attending in 2006 and ’07, my pals and I have decided to forgo a third annual trip to the San Diego Int’l Comic Con this July.

I had great fun there during the past two years—SD is a great town, and I enjoyed exploring it more than the interior of the con hall—but funds are tight this season, and it’s time for a break.

Maybe I’ll return in 2009, or perhaps hit another major con in a town I’ve never visited before like San Francisco or NYC.

Either way, the seals at La Jolla Cove are in my thoughts.

Happy Frakkin' Easter

Ran into the following image over at Pandagon. It’s a promotional image for the last season of Battlestar Galactica due to begin airing April 4 on Sci-Fi.

(Click on image to embiggen)

Damned if it ain’t one of the most profound shots I’ve ever seen related to a science-fiction story, one obviously modeled after Leonardo’s “Last Supper.”

For those following the series, the woman in Christ’s place is Six, a cylon in human form (played by Tricia Helfer) who seems to want her newly sentient species and humanity to spiritually merge – which is ironic as hell considering her kin annihilated millions of people on planet Caprica, and have been hounding the last few human survivors across space.

It's also interesting that the only chalice (AKA: holy grail) in the pic is before Lee Adama--whereas in the Leonardo painting there is no cup on the table at all--and that Gaius Baltar (a pure Judas role) is ironically not seated in Judas' spot, but John's - the disciple said to be Christ's most favored.

Whether that is intentional or not is uncertain.

You Can't Fix Stupid

As a supporter of Barack Obama’s candidacy for president, I have been in more than a few scrapes with a members of the Christian right on websites like Crosswalk – which offers a public e-forum for all sorts of topics including politics.

Anyhoo, when trying to engage in a civil conversation over a recent quote by Obama (e.g. that one about his grandmother as a “typical white person”), one individual I’ve been speaking to offered the following after I posted Obama’s interview quote in its full context:

“The quote you provided has been sanitized. A key part is missing. You would have know this if you had been able to overcome your reaction to absolve [Obama] of anything, no matter how ignorant. The missing part is where [Obama] tried to attribute typical white people's irrational reaction to the mere sight of a black man to their breeding. According to [Obama], racist tendencies have been "bred" into whites. Normally one would need to attend a KKK meeting or a sermon at the Trinity Church of Christ to hear such ignorance.”

To which I replied:

You mean this” missing” part?

“But she is a typical white person, who, if she sees somebody on the street that she doesn’t know, you know, there’s a reaction that’s been bred in our experiences that don’t go away and that sometimes come out in the wrong way, and that’s just the nature of race in our society.” – Barack Obama on WIP Radio (March 20, 2008)

I then go onto say:

“When Obama uses the term "bred" it's a metaphor. He is not talking about breeding in the biological sense; Obama's speaking about cultural experiences. Plus, has it occurred to you that Obama is half-white himself? For him to bash racially bash whites would be as pointless as Obama doing the same against blacks. “

Not that all Crosswalk users (like the one above) are this dumb. In fact, most seem to have understood what Obama was driving at in his interview.

Yet like any other candidate, this is precisely the kind of ignorance Obama will have to deal with: morons who are apparently incapable of thinking higher than a 6^th-grade level, nor reading anything in context, and are perfectly willing to swallow anything Fox "News" (save Brian Kilmeade and Chris Wallace) spoonfeeds them.

But as Ron White says, “you can’t fix stupid.”

Baker Street & Damnation Avenue

Picked up the following PC game (“Sherlock Holmes: The Awakened”) while cruising Target tonight for ice cream and a Brita water pitcher.

Intriguingly, it combines mythology from Arthur Conan Doyle and H.P. Lovecraft, and involves Holmes and Watson investigating several ghastly London murders linked to an underground Cthulhu cult.

However, marrying Holmes and Lovecraft—while a novel idea--may be problematic, considering that in the latter’s tales, those who snoop around Cthulhu typically end up dead or certifiably insane. Secondly, as players of another Lovecraft-themed game (“The Dark Corners of The Earth”) will attest, anyone taking on Cthulhu cultists are strongly advised to carry one particular item: firearms.

Sure, Cthulhu’s minions are many and dangerous, but they aren’t bulletproof. And to be best of my knowledge, Holmes’ usually doesn’t pack heat. So unless players of “The Awakened” are allowed to arm up, it’ll be interesting (or frustrating as hell) to see how Holmes deals with self-protection during gameplay.

Here’s hoping a “Batman vs. Cthulhu” game isn’t too far behind.

Credit Where Credit Is Due

In two moves that surprised the hell out of me, Fox “News” personalities Chris Wallace and Brian Kilmeade took serious umbrage with their co-workers’ week-long attempt to cast Barack Obama in the most negative light possible following the racial dust-up over the senator’s relationship with firebrand preacher Jeremiah Wright.

In fact, during today’s “Fox & Friends,” Kilmeade grew so exasperated with co-hosts Steve Doocy and Gretchen Carlson while trying to explain the proper context of Obama having referred during a radio interview to his white grandmother as a “typical white person” that he walked off set as both Doocy and Carlson laughed at him behind his back.

Secondly, I have to give Fox anchor Chris Wallace equal credit for calling out these same two morons during the same "F&F" broadcast, calling their day’s show “two hours of Obama bashing.”

So to both Mr. Kilmeade and Mr. Wallace: well done, gentlemen.

Click here for the video on both Kilmeade and Wallace at Huffington Post.

Finally, word came today from Pastor-- and recent John McCain endorser--Rev. John Hagee, he of notorious slurs versus gays, Catholics, and Jews (among others), that it was McCain who requested Hagee’s public seal of approval (despite his fiery reputation), not the other way around.

I’ll be over here in the corner holding my breath waiting for Sean Hannity to pounce on this story in the interest of being “fair & balanced” after all but accusing Obama of racism and anti-Semitism this week over his relationship with Jeremiah Wright.

Do As I Say....

Over at the right-wing circle jerk known as Fox “News," there was a banner story posted today about Barack Obama’s campaign website having omitted an unsolicited posting by the radical-left New Black Panther Party (apparently, they didn’t die out with other '70s relics like H.R. Pufnstuf after all) endorsing Obama’s presidential candidacy.

Notice the operative word there: unsolicited.

However, after getting a tasty mouthful of blood last weekend via the faux-fracas over Obama’s unhinged ex-pastor, Fox and their fellow Republican zealots now seem truly inspired to slime Obama in any way possible, just as they and the Swift Boat Liars did (with zero proof backing their claims) in 2004 over John Kerry's war record.

I wonder if John McCain’s website received an unsolicited endorsement from, say, the American Nazi Party or NAMBLA that Fox would be as outraged.

Methinks not.

I love you, double-standard.

My Webs Don't Work

I’m not sure how—well, yes I do—but I have spent the past few days suffering from Tobey Maguire Syndrome (AKA: a sore back) and it fricking hurts.

No, I mean it. It doesn’t even hurt in a semi-amusing way, as if to say: “You're on the cusp of 40. Enjoy.” It feels like I was punched square in the back, and it sucks.

Is this what aging feels like?

"What's more agonizing than coming to a cemetery in the rain? My back!"

The Word of The Day

Quesadafication (kay-SAHD-i-fi-cay-shun) n. 1. An editorial tendency for employing lame narrative stunts in comic book plotting (e.g. “One More Day,” “Batman R.I.P.,” "Secret Invasion," "Zombies") to temporarily boost sales among gullible readers only to then reverse said stunt (e.g. “Superman dies, returns with mullet”) in 6-12 months after it has exhausted itself. 2. See also “double-dipping,” “dredging the well.”

So I Unpacked My Adjectives

In the March 2008 issue of “Ghost Rider” (#21), we have ‘ol Flamehead battling his most challenging nemesis yet: a trio of angry, bonesaw-wielding nurses.

But after considering at the following cover art for several minutes, I struggled to define my emotional reaction. I mean, to start you’ve got three uppity Nightengales, which on its face is pretty hot. But nurses battling a divine emissary of vengeance?

How to quantify that concept in a word? Kick-ass? Vexing? Kittywampused?

Help me here, kids, while I reach for my Thesaurus.

I need options.

"Damn your lime jell-o, you mistresses of Hell!"

It's Over. Well, Not Really...

Tomorrow, I’ll be “downtown” (as those residing in Chicago’s suburbs call it) at the UC taking in the Hawks and Calgary Flames, a game which will likely have little impact on the former’s ability to snag that vaunted eighth-spot in the NHL post-season. The Hawks are simply too far behind at this point, having reeled off too many hot and cold streaks throughout the past season.

But I honestly don’t think anyone cares.

Although I have hardly been a serious hockey fan throughout my life, I have truly enjoyed the Hawks’ 2007-08 season which—unlike many previous ones—is colored with a genuine optimism for the future via the many building blocks which are in place.

Much of this enthusiasm has to do with new Hawks owner Rocky Wirtz, who’s done an outstanding job reviving a franchise so brutalized for so long under his late father’s awful tenure. Last fall, I had serious doubts that Rocky could do much this season to pull the Hawks’ ship off the reef. But he did just that, and in record time, while resetting a new course.

So bully for him. And even more importantly, bully for us, as Hawks fans.

For the first time in ages, we actually have something to look forward to other than meekly chanting “Detroit sucks!” as the Red Wings abuse our little team like a prison bitch…over and over.

"The Blackhawks are respectable again? I don't feel so good."

Here It Comes

Now that Hollywood’s calendar is in the doldrums for releases prior to the summer movie season, I have to make a confession.

With the exception of “The Dark Knight” (due July 18), I’m just not torqued up by this summer’s line-up – even though it is chock full of comic-related titles including “Iron Man” (May 2), “The Incredible Hulk” (June 27), and “Speed Racer” (May 23).

Why? For various reasons…and forgive me while I grouse.

Beginning with “Iron Man,” after Marvel’s big character franchises have graced the screen with mixed results (e.g. “Spider-Man,” “X-Men,” “Fantastic Four”) we’re beginning to see the B-Team step up, including the aforementioned Shellhead. And based on the “Iron Man” trailers, my first reaction is that the movie looks good (plus, I think Robert Downey is a good cast as Stark), but as someone close to me recently put it: great heroes are molded by great villains.

And who the hell is Iron Man’s equivalent of The Joker, or Ming The Merciless?

He doesn’t have one.

And neither does the Hulk. With the possible exception of the mega-brainy, phallic-headed Leader, 'ol Greenskin’s primary foe is his forever pissed off, would-be pap-in-law, General “Thunderbolt” Ross, and the military industrial complex. But after the Cold War ended, that old grudge quickly grew stale.

Still, I’m hoping this “Hulk” retooling starring Edward Norton as Doc Banner will make up for the many fatal creative decisions (i.e. casting Nick Nolte, “Hulk Dogs”) that soured Ang Lee’s 2003 stab at the mythology.

Finally, regarding the transfer of “Speed Racer” to the big screen, my chief concern based on teasers I’ve seen thus far is that the Wachowski’s are taking their main character way too seriously. Hopefully, I’m wrong, but the tone of “Speed Racer” feels ridiculously taut, amongst visuals so overwhelmingly colorful that I fear moviegoers’ optic nerves will fry from coast to coast.

With all of the above films, we’ll have to wait and see what we see.

But for my money, my anticipation of seeing the late Heath Ledger’s depiction of The Joker in “TDK” tops all other summer movies in terms of buzz. There is no question.

Dave Stevens (1955 - 2008)

Just read that writer-artist Dave Stevens (best known for creating “The Rocketeer” and reinjecting Bettie Page into the pop culture world) has passed away at age 52 from leukemia.

Apparently, Mr. Stevens had been undergoing chemo for some time, and was in great discomfort from both his illness and the treatment.

Our sympathies to Dave’s family. We have all lost a wonderful talent.

All Animals Are Equal...

Read the following head-smacker over on Pandagon regarding one public reaction of Oklahoma State Rep. Sally Kern’s recent comments (recorded without her knowledge) that homosexuality--which she likened to cancer--represents a greater threat to America today than terrorism.

The reaction in question? Kern’s fellow state Republicans gave her a standing-o.

Ten bucks says that somewhere Fred Phelps is gigging with delight.

Green-Eyed Monsters

As is usual on weekends, I picked up a few books and/or multimedia items at my local chain bookstore, and was fortunate enough to snag a copy of “Candy Girl: A Year In The Life of An Unlikely Stripper” by Diablo Cody.

So far, I’m about halfway into the text, and am mesmerized by the author’s behind-the-scenes profile of the sex club industry, especially how “entertainers” are often hosed by scams run by their employers who (for example) will fine girls for failing to sell a t-shirt or other cheap souvenir to customers during allotted times.

Translation: for as much bank as a good stripper can make per night, their bosses have the edge of time-tested schemes designed to bilk their final tally. Or in other words: once again, the house always wins.

Let aside all this, as I flipped deeper into “Candy Girl” I felt a little flame begin to flicker in my chest. At first, I couldn’t bullseye the cause, but as Diablo Cody’s cutting, uber-hip prose continued rolling past my eyes, I finally figured it out.

I was jealous.

Jealous that DC (as I’ve decided to nick her) was writing such beautiful text whereas I often struggle to write a coherent sentence, or dredge up a salient plot point. God help me, I felt like Salieri in “Amadeus” as he struggles to pen the simplest melody only to watch his rival Mozart write dazzling symphonies while taking a leak.

Take for example, the following passage from “Candy Girl”:

“It wasn’t enough to be a nude girl, I decided. You had to be the nude girl. You had to sparkle, you had to coruscate, you had to bounce like the phantom cheerleader in the vault of every man’s memory. Your skin had to be oiled to reflect the purple strobes, your hair had to be coaxed into a voluminous Nashville tangle. You had to possess the vein and make the puppet rise. You had to make the average man’s wife look like one of Van Gogh’s potato-eating peasants by comparison. Coarse. Earthy. Plain. It was, I realized, a tall order.”

Ratfucksonofabitch.

After taking this in, I was foaming at the mouth with admiration, gob-smacked by DC’s razor-like economy of thought. Immediately, I popped up from my bed, in search of a pen to crudely circle the passage with. I wanted it recorded as a benchmark to measure my own work against.

Granted, it’s not my goal to become Diablo Cody--I have enough trouble forming my own narrative voice—but were I ever to reel off a paragraph remotely as well-honed as the one above, I’ll figure to be in decent shape.

Until then, thanks to DC for the spark.

PS (7:27PM: CDT): Just finished reading "Candy Girl" not five minutes ago. Diablo Cody is a marvellously talented writer, likely the best I've encountered in years.

My New Addiction

Some folks smoka da crackie. I prefer da Smoked Cheddar from Popcorn, Indiana.

Stupidity On The March

It’s both fascinating and disturbing how Barack Obama’s most ardent right-wing critics (e.g. Rep. Steve King, Bill Cunningham) cannot get over the fact that his name is “Barack Hussein Obama, Jr.” while making unabashed (and racist) claims that it makes him: a) a Muslim (AKA: terrorist), or b) a Muslim sympathizer (AKA: a friend of terrorists).

Either way, this rhetoric stinks of right-wing desperation—as evidenced by the recent flood of similar claims against Obama on WorldNut Daily—but what bothers me most about it is that I know a more than a few American voters are stupid enough to believe it – just as the same mental giants were dumb enough to believe a 2000 NRA voter campaign claiming that an elected Al Gore would confiscate citizens’ lawful firearms.

If such people are dense enough to believe that, they’re dense enough to believe anything, which is precisely what the programmers at Fox News bank on every day.

This Is The Song That Doesn't End

Typically, I have nothing against winter – but this one feels fucking endless.

This morning, I was out with Mark and Bruce for a round of disc golf, which I didn’t dress too heavily for as we’ve already played twice this winter with few discomforts after we got our blood going.

But today was downright bone-chilling.

I know spring is on our doorstep. It just feels a thousand miles off.

And Without Further Ado...

Behold one of the greatest scenes in all cinema history (e.g. Sam Raimi's "Darkman" circa 1990).

In Which I Buy Porn

Don’t ask me why, but in my 39 years on Earth I have never bought porn – as in on DVD to add as part of my video vault.

Unlike most guys, I never saw the point. Porn is like mental bubblegum: sweet and tasty early on, before quickly growing stale. I’ve also always considered buying porn a tad creepy – as if I were becoming like that single (or more often, married) guy who slinks downstairs to watch “Dixie Dynamite and The All-Star Tit Queens” at 2AM.

As of now, the only title I own which could be considered “adult” is a 2001 unrated documentary subtitled "The Legend of Ron Jeremy" (highly recommended, by the way). But otherwise, I have nothing else in terms of kink.

So why pull the trigger now?

Call it nostalgia – in this case, for a curvy, big-haired porn actress named Christy Canyon whom I first encountered in the glossy pages of a Penthouse hidden (very poorly) under my dad’s bed in 1986.

Christy, who has since unretired from “the business” several times and is now in production and running Ebay auctions of her memorabilia, knocked me out from the word go. And obviously, she still does. Therefore, I broke down and ordered a trio of Christy’s early titles filmed back when America’s smut vendors dodged the holy Reagan administration while running on plentiful rows of coke – not to say the industry still doesn’t do so today. Yet back in the 80s, flagrant drug use on porno sets just seemed more obvious.

Ten bucks says I’ll spend most of my time laughing which watching the Christy classics I ordered. There’s nothing more amusing than watching two (or three or sixteen) people moan, and spurt organics against up-tempo elevator tracks, while you know the poor shoulders of a boom guy standing just off-screen are screaming with fatigue, and the lighting man can’t wait to break for lunch.

Porn is primitive fantasy for the masses – one made for both adult male and female audiences. And for that I say roll it.

Money Changes Everything

This past week, Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich (D) and NIU President Jon Peters announced their intent to raze Cole Hall (where the recent campus shootings occurred), and replace it with a new building called Memorial Hall expected to cost $40 million in state funds.

Although some believe that destroying the building is the only way to exorcise the ghosts of the recent murders committed there, for whatever its worth--and that likely ain’t much--I strongly disagree.

Whether Cole Hall is used again or not, it won’t change what happened there. Further, destroying it smacks of a desperate attempt to salve over the university’s pain as if the building itself is the cause.

It isn’t.

The cause was a homicidal monster named Steven Kazmierczak who had the sanity and foresight to destroy his computer hard drives before his assault so police could not use it to search for clues on his emotional state.

He killed those kids, not a lecture hall. And no amount of cash can make that awful reality disappear.

UPDATE (3-6-08): Heard a news report yesterday that the governor has withdrawn his recent proposal to raze Cole Hall due to a cacophony of objections over the high cost, and disruptions to NIU’s campus. So sanity wins this round.

A Very Brief Book Review: "1 Dead in Attic" by Chris Rose

Picked up a book order today which I had been waiting for since January, the ominously titled “1 Dead in Attic” by New Orleans Times-Picayune writer Chris Rose, collecting 18 months of his post-Katrina columns beginning a week after the storm passed.

Rose’s affection for New Orleans is beautifully illustrated, and although the city and its environs will likely never escape its down-sides (e.g. a long history of crime and corruption), “1 Dead” neatly crystallizes all its beautiful, human variables that ivory pulpit assholes like Rush Limbaugh, Bill O’Reilly, and Karl Rove (who blamed Ward 9 flooding on environmentalists) are incapable of recognizing.

Get Lucky: The Follow-Up

Remember that mysterious unluck-luck power of mine I blogged about below? I’m beginning to think it’s real.

Four days after learning my current contract job had literally upped and left town without me, I already have a replacement. I suppose I should be thrilled—I’m more relieved, actually—but am not due to the past week being so emotionally exhausting.

This said, I’ll be enjoying a restful weekend. And perhaps a milkshake or two garnished with Lexapro.