I am not a number (I'm more like an ampersand)

Why is my milk green? Milk isn't s'posed to be green, is it?

Kidding! I know better than to drink that stuff; that's the stuff you save for guests.

Kimmy and I went to see The Simpsons Movie! It was fun. What this means, of course, is that I actually spent time outside work with one of my co-workers, which never happens, except for, well, the girl who sleeps with me. And The Boys. And Andy. And Bruce. And maybe the rest of Beano. Anyway: The theatre did not explode, no one died, giant purple-headed monkeys did not spawn from the projector and chase down innocent bystanders in order to inflict their monstrous blue genitalia upon them. Homer said 'D'oh!' a lot. I'm sorry, but it's true. Also, Kimmy threw up, but she's okay now.

Also: I was responsible and bought condoms for the first time in, like, a while. The world did not end, no one publicly shamed me for having non-Christian sex, i.e., in the dark with a sheet between us that's got a tiny hole cut in the middle of it and then denying that it ever happened in the first place. I was followed around by two gay men, a frat boy, and a creepy old man who looked suspiciously enough like one of the old pedophiles that we're trying to shoo away from Beano, but they scattered when I picked up the wart remover. Also: when did condoms become One Size Fits All? I'm not complaining, as this means that no one ever has to suffer the humiliation of buying a package of "Little Buddy's" when they go through the checkout aisle; it's just, well...man, it's been a while. Also also: FLAVOURED LUBE? REALLY? I have no words, as this futuristic space-age world we live in sometimes frightens me...

Rachel almost kicked me in the head a few moments ago. Then she babbled something about "FACETOOCLOSETOOMANYWORDS!!!" before rushing to the bathroom to put on her sane personality. I think it was because I accidentally tickled her foot when she was asleep so she was a bit shocked to be awake. She just left to go buy pies from anarchists with Jared, a phrase that is still ricocheting inside my skull because of its absurdity. My life is a strange and complicated adventure, not unlike The Prisoner, but without any cool subtext underlying the gorillas on motorbikes and giant beach balls.

The new Common? Friggin' amazing. Even if he does look vaguely hippyish on the cover. Ignore the coloured-in dreads - the album is better than your mom on crack.

Everyone's reading The Invisibles lately, which is nothing short of miraculous. All I can say is: IT'S ABOUT FUCKING TIME. This thing was written close to a decade ago, people; what's taking you so long? We only have five more years until the world ends, and I can't possibly prepare for it myself.

Oh hey Jared's back in town! We all spent a few hours celebrating his return last night (although most of us fled to the rickety staircase the moment people started discussing What Christianity's All About; Rachel and Jay: we're all very sorry that your formative years were irreparably damaged by the evils of Jesus-osity, but please stop punishing the rest of us for it, as we've all suffered our own Bible-related traumas in our lifetimes. How about the next time you feel like arguing over the differences between (Insert two different belief systems here), you just drink a lot instead?). By the end of the night, Rachel was obsessing over the fact that The Boys' cable connection was hooked up to NOTHING even though it still worked well not really but kinda and anyway Jared forgot to pay the bill and Josh is in Italy and no one knows where Sean is anyway...I had to drag her away before she rebuilt Jared's computer out of guitar parts, beer cans and a stuffed rooster. She's a soopa-genius that way, but sometimes she just needs to be put to bed, y'know?

I'm gonna go have Honeycombs, as according to the Crazy Lady, I am honeycomb zombie. But I had to remind the Crazy Lady that if SHE were a zombie, I would have no choice but to shoot her.