Uh, yeah. Still angry and boring.

Here are some thoughts:

I love Dr Pepper. I don't love that they dropped the period from "Dr"--what are they, British?

Last night, I had a dream about the girl at Bath & Body Works I have a stupid crush on, and I didn't even remember it until right as I was walking into work this morning, and the ridiculousness of this dream actually caused me to stagger as I opened the door. Bah.

I feel like I had kind of a story to tell--maybe I planned on relating the dream, but I don't think I will this time. I've been babbling about dreams too much lately. (And by too much, I apparently mean "once," but dreams are seldom interesting to anyone but the dreamer.)

I seriously am horrified that Mike Huckabee has this much support in this country. He's clearly never going to be president, but still. That he's even won one state is horrendous. He wants to make this country a full-on theocracy, people! Why don't you see that? Why don't you have a problem with that? Why is it unacceptable for people to not share your religious beliefs?

Okay, moving on. Jess won't go see Ingrid Michaelson with me, and I don't like her enough to go by myself, but I really need some live music. What I actually really need is live Brandi, but that just ain't happening. Ingrid Michaelson is as close to an acceptable substitute as I can get. Alanis is on tour, but the closest she's coming is to Mohegan Sun. Fuck that. I hate Connecticut. Well, mostly I hate driving through Connecticut.

I would like a new emotion to feel, please. This cranky, out-of-sortsness isn't working for me. And it makes for shitty blog entries. Bah.