2004-06-25..3:30 p.m.

To the women who use the ladies toilets as their own private phone booth: Don�t. Who are you on the phone to that you need to talk to so badly you have to pee while doing it? If I can hear your excretion of bodily waste cascading in its torrent from two stalls down, the person on the other end surely can too. And the FLUSHING! The FLUSHING! After that, it�s not even like the person your subjecting to your urination habits can even pretend they didn�t hear it. And then to LEAVE without washing your HANDS? It�s a disgusting occurrence that, should anyone I consider myself acquainted to do so, I would disown them immediately.

I�ve got SO much work to pour through this weekend: interview/live review, live review, album review, album review, album review. I�ve only listened to one of the CDs thus far: the Sugarcult one. Let it be known from this day forth, I Do Not Like Cali-Pop. It causes something in me to whither and die. I just find it bland and uninspired and unimaginative and awful. We get sent a list every month and I tend to just pick things because I either like the name, or fall for some part of the bio that catches my attention, but really this will teach me to not read those things thoroughly. If I ever ask for anything that he knows to fall into that realm of aural hell, I�ve ordered my editor REFUSE to send it to me. This review is going to be very difficult.

This has been a week of Worlds Colliding. Steve met Matthew, I met Steve�s ex, Matthew nearly ran into his ex, as of last night I�ve met MCs other gal. R keeps getting in contact at weirdly inappropriate moments, like just as I�m telling Steve not to worry, or just as I�m kind of getting it on with Matthew (we slipped..), or just as Other Gal walks in. And all the while I�ve got Franz Ferdinand�s �Michael� ripping its way through my soggy brain. This Must End! As far as I�m concerned this weekend could not come fast enough.

Roll on Imminent Arrival of Zan! For Ye shall sort my sordid brain!

May your weekend be mercifully free of awkward pauses and furtive glances (unless you�re secretly a double-0, in which case furt away my friend, furt away)

****meep