Lindsay gets back tomorrow (for those of you just joining us, Lindsay is my friend with whom I am hopelessly in love, though by no flight of fancy is she now nor has she ever been my girlfriend). But if everything goes according to plan, I'll be in Grand Blanc. Hopefully, I will see her on Thursday, but if not, most assuredly on Friday when we go to get permanantly scarred. (That's right, kids, peer pressure is FUN!) Just over a week to Attack of the Clones; I can't believe it's finally here! I kid you not, the first time I saw The Phantom Menace was one of the greatest nights of my life. This is an unbelievable feeling.

I read the most amazing thing in Esquire yesterday. It was from the new "Ten Things You Don't Know About Women" section, this issue by novelist Lucinda Rosenfeld. Item No. 10, describing why an ugly braclet bought as a present is never worn,"We haven't returned it because we love you too much. And we really do love you." I don't know why, but to me it's poetry; I can't get that line out of my head. My only theory is because it resonates with my profound lack of understanding how women fall in love with men. Men falling in love with women I understand. Women, for all their faults, are amazing creatures. They are wonderful in all the ways we are not, and their very presence is magical. Why would they love us? How could they love us? With lamentably few exceptins, men are Epsilons. Of course, so are most women. For now, though, that matters not. The world does not exist, for the words of Lucinda Rosenfeld are dancing in my head, and I am happy.