From the world of music...
Ugh, I've got that crappy new song from crappy Good Charlotte stuck in my head. I hate Good Charlotte. They're just awful. Rassum frassum no talent posers. I caught sweet Canadian jailbait pop sensation Avril Lavigne last night on Letterman, performing "Sk8er Boi"*. Yeah, Dave could have comatose aardvarks as guests and only one grainy camera and The Late Show would still be a million times better than The Tonight Show. Leno fans fucking suck. They are Epsilons. (*Note: I am not a fan of purposeful misspelling - with the hypocritical exception of "sez" - but in the interest of accuracy, the song is titled "Sk8er Boi," not "Skater Boy" as it should be.)

A band to whom you should all listen: The Mighty Mighty Bosstones.
"In his favorite bar, in his favorite seat,
I saw the Devil, wingtip shoes on his feet,
Porkpie hat on his head, he was digging the beat,
And the band ripped like demons when he screamed, 'Turn up the heat!'"

("Devil's Night Out" from Devil's Night Out.)

Lindsay called me last night. She'd been crying and I could tell she would again before the night was out. I've never understood cryers. In no way am I trying to make light of anyone's crying, I simply do not understand. I've never been a cryer. I've cried, but it's never been a default reaction to anything. It confuses me to no end. Lindsay tries to be so fierce... and then boom, waterworks. I don't understand. I want to, but understanding will be a long time coming, if ever.