it's not so deep, I'm not so slow

I generally don't like having a day off alone, but today was pleasant enough. I did some cleaning, some packing, some cooking, went for a very long walk, got a little internet goofing off in, caught up on a bit of TV. All in all, successful. And just now, with sweet potatoes in the oven (Tonight's menu: blackened catfish + garlic broccoli + baked sweet potatoes) I've poured myself a 1/4 glass of wine (this is a new thing and I'm still not convinced I like it, though this sauvignon blanc I'm working is strangely lemongrassy in a fun way) and broccoli under my knife, I danced to Aztec Camera's "Oblivious" and thought, "This is a pretty sweet set up."

I'll settle for a cup of coffee

I thought it may have been wrong to sort of root against the U.S. in today's hockey game, but the U.S. team has no one I like, and Sweden has hot hot hottest Lundqvist. Oh. So hot. Seriously, that nose? I die. He's so hot he makes me forget my hate of his countryman Mats Sundin. Anyway, the U.S. lost. And then they interviewed hot Henrik, oh. He was so cute. And then he gave The Look right into the camera, stopped and gave The Look again. As if to say, "Why yes, I WAS looking at you, lady." There was screaming in the house, let me tell you, which is great because Dollie and I haven't had much to scream about lately. And yes, I did DVD that moment. Why wouldn't I?

Yesterday my magic dentist yanked one of my wisdom teeth, ending weeks of agony. Did you know I ate at least 75 advils in the last week alone? Sick.

I'm going to become a dance-music diva, did I tell you? I won't tell you more right now, but when it happens, you'll be the first to know.

Speaking of great ideas, that one came to me over an earl grey tea vodka gimlet. Delightful. You should come to the R Bar and get your own. I think I'm going back Tuesday. I have more plans to make.

it changes when the sun goes down

You know how a band gets a lot of love and sells a lot of records and you're like "Bleh, surely they are awful." Well, I know. Because I do that a lot. Because I am a jerk. Or maybe I'm just incredibly wise. Either way.

Anyway, clearly as Arctic Monkeys are breaking UK sales records I'm rolling my eyes (PS I still have somewhere in my personal video collection that episode of my show where I scream, "Who are the Spice Girls and why are they on the cover of every British magazine?!?! Surely no one cares." Well then people went on to care. But now no one does.

So back to the Arctic Monkeys. Yes, the name I am not loving. But it's better than Test Icicles. The song (there's only one I've listened to so far) I am loving. I love how it starts out all tender ballad-y (even though he's saying things like "She don't take major credit cards/ I doubt she does receipts" about a prostitute) and then goes bananas (much like Unrest's "Make Out Club"), but most of all I love that the part when it goes from tender ballad-y to bananas is the part when he says, "He's a scumbag don't you know/(pause) /I said he's a scumbag don't you know."

It's love, me and this song.

awake so long awaiting a landslide

I was up at 7AM. It's Sunday.

So I went to one of those Shecky's Girls Night Out parties Wednesday. It was crowded, so when we finally found the Midori open bar, we got two at a time. I had Illusions, 6 of them, I think. They were fantastic. The DJ was fantastic. I fell in love with product. I bought a lickable massage bar from Lush. I got to be a girly. It was a nice time.

Friday night I went to the best hockey game ever. The Rangers beat my most hated Toronto (love the city, hate the team) on February 10. Which has been my unlucky day (and 210 my unlucky number) ever since that crazy woman named 210 tried to kill me in Toronto (this story escalates every time I tell it). I think NY beating Toronto on that day with me in the Garden (they've never won a game I've attended before) is a great sign of good things to come on 2/10 and always. Plus, could they fit any more devastatingly foxy players on the Rangers? There is just no way.

Last night while the snow started falling (wow, it really picked up overnight. I can't see out the windows because they are all snowed over) we watched the end of "Arrested Development." I was disappointed that Fox made a big point of saying it was the season finale. I would have so much more respect for your network if you just gave it to me straight, punks. Punks.

For Christmas, I got the pocket Penguins box set (70 70-page books). I'm so afraid of messing them up as I mostly read in my bed and don't want to roll over it, and so I've only gotten to one so far (the Nick Hornby). Last night I started Dave Eggers' Short Short Stories (all are only 2-3 pages each), and I just love them. I think it is supposed to be not cool to like Dave Eggers, but I don't care. I do.

Last night Dollie said she has some serious doubts about my taste in music because I do not like "Somewhere Out There."

all it takes is a little talking

I finally discovered Tim Gunn's podcasts, and whoa was that a mistake. Now not only have I stopped listening to music, I've busted out laughing (and have been unable to stop) twice on public transportation.

The first time was on the bus, and Tim was trying to understand Marla and Diana's Banana Republic window. "What was that? All that ripped up, crumpled up paper there? It was this messy office. What is it saying? One thing it would be saying is, 'I'm going to take this outfit and get out of here,' but what time is it? I would have wanted to leave at 11AM. Forget about leaving at 7PM."

The other time was on the subway, and he was talking about Raymundo's weird old lady outfit for Barbie. "She looked like Charlize Theron in 'Monster.' She was schlumped over and drooling practically."

walk until you can't be seen

OH I love being home. And I can't wait for the Super Bowl! OK, I'm just kidding about that. But a good sports story is that I have a hockey game next Friday, and that is going to be a good show.

In other news, Broken Social Scene can f-ing blow me. I mean, for serious. First off, I hate them, and always envision them as a band of Santinos (until Santino started growing on me with that Red Lobster/Tim/Andre fantasy thing). Then, they got people to read about their crap by slagging off another band (lame).

THEN I read this week somewhere they they were demanding a table in a restaurant by saying who they were. Um, who are you? And WHO CARES? OH my butt. Hate them.

Did I tell you the part when one of them had my #1 favorite Deadly Snakes shirt? Ugh.

Then I was reading some lame Toronto lame blog of lameness (don't ask me why it is still on my Bloglines, please) and they were saying something about judging a show's coolness by how many members of Broken Social Scene were there. For frog's sake, people!