I've "socialized" twice this week, and the inescapable conclusion is that both times I would have been happier in my room by myself. On Monday, Brad's vapid birthday fiesta; yesterday, after the Animania plenary meeting, I accepted an open invitation to go see Austin Powers in Goldmember. Oh my stars and garters, it was terrible. I mean, The Spy Who Shagged Me was uninspired, but at least it was funny. I counted carefully, and I laughed four times during all of Goldmember. Sweet merciful crap, it was as bad as Shrek. So, unfortunately, I now have to classify Mike Myers as a hack and, what's worse, a has-been. He used to be hilarious; now he's just pathetic. Rich, but pathetic.

45 Things She Wishes You Knew
26. When in doubt, go with the shirt the color of your eyes.
You mean the crappy band T-shirt the color of my eyes? Sure, fine, I guess this is reasonable advice. For me, though, a better rule is that black is always appropriate. (In all fairness, I suppose it wouldn't be easy to come up with forty-five meaningful and passibly original statements on relationships.)

And now, a message from the dark bastard who resides in the back of my head: Lindsay's new friends, fellow incoming grad student Chris and his sister Erin (she befriended them on her admissions tour), are moving into their apartment in Berkeley this weekend. I suppose my usefulness has thus come to an end. She now has more than one set of drinking buddies, and someone with whom she can look forward to the Fall semester. After a pair of long and lovely phone cenversations this week, I anticipate that we won't be hearing from her for quite some time.

Now, before anybody fires off a heartfelt message of consolation (presumptuous fucker, aren't I?), let it be known that voicing dark bastard's concerns has the curious effect of nullifying them. Articulation dispells the black humors. Also, I have now officially classified jealousy in the same catagory as worry: it is an utterly useless emotion. To clarify, concern is good. Concern will make sure that what needs to get done gets done, that all your ducks are in a row. Worry, though, is a damned cancer. It'll eat you alive, break your spirit, and give you nothing. It is useless. Cut it out with a (metaphorical) knife. There's no way to ease yourself out of worring; you've got to stop cold turkey. Jealousy's the same way. "Jealousy is a waste of time," to quote the great Darwyn Cooke. Now, it will take a strong act of will before jealousy is gone, and friendship jealousy will be a harder dragon to slay than relationship/sexual jealousy, but at least now I'm fighting the right enemy. My sincerest thanks to Skeeter for helping to open my eyes.