Everyone's off at Timmies having no doubt emmense donut happy fun times. I work early tomorrow. . . so I am here. Alone. Without donuts. Or any sort of happy fun times of which to speak. *Teardrop* Think of me with every bite of joyful chocolate sprinkles or boston cream delight. But Chris promised me that we could both go to Timmies tomorrow, and then I shall show all of those snotty Tim Horten flackies with their ugly old-people visor hats, that I too CAN EAT DONUTS. *Cackles*

Anyway. *Cough* In other news.

Alright, so I've become an American Idol junkie. *Ducks vegetables* One quarter of the reason being for the singing; another quarter for simply not being able to say no to my reality-show-crazed mother's chibi eyes when she asks me to watch it with her every Tuesday and Wednesday night; but the prominant one half worth of shameless reason being strictly for the little ball of anger and verbal abuse that is Mr. Simon Cowell, who on some sort of crazy and nerdy level on my part, reminds me of a very sexy and not so snarly version of Snape from Harry Potter. What can I say, even if I some times don't agree with some of the things he says, I enjoy his bluntness and complete lack of tact to what is most likely an alarming level in the eyes of the average human. Did I mention that he's BRITISH and looks nice in tight, black manly shirts? Shirts of any color, in point of fact. He could probably make pink look charming, if I were very drunk and on high amounts of acid and the pink was actually in fact not pink but an attractive blue or even green, and in no way resembled any shade of pink of any kind. In any case, I have recently added to my long list of wish-type things, of someday dropping in the from the ceiling and glomping said Mr. Cowell, in which I'm sure he would promptly physically pry me off his leg spurning fabulously Englishly, insult me but good and leave me broken and in need of millions of dollars worth of extensive therapy. I'm such an abuse whore.

On Tuesday I went down to the travel agency and paid off my Europe tour and I am now proudly nearly $4000 dollars poorer, but on the bright side I bought my celebration cake of chocolate. Huzzuh!

And, HOLY SHIT, ROCK LEE IS BACK!!! *Flips out and kills people (in a good way)*

Jeeze, I've been trying so hard to get productive once more and resume work any of my projects that I've left on hiatus for so long. I attempted but failed miserably to motivate myself to work on my big scary Escaflowne project; the little energizer bunny of my soul has disappeared and just left his big, stupid, useless drum. Probably off having lots of crazy bunny sex and making more useless bunnies with more big, stupid, useless drums. Stupid bunny. . .

I engaged in a very long and to say the very least, interesting, joint MSN conversation between myself, Chris, my sister, and her boyfriend, Jon. I think we discussed all there was to possibly discuss about being raped by Jesus; ninjas and robots with eye lasers; Jesus poking people with his penis; plagues, bubonic and otherwise; and ultimately who would win in a fight pitting Jesus against various super heros. I don't know about you, but I definately came away enlightened. I feel closer to God. Well, his son at least (and his penis.)

Off to bed now, I have to be at work at 8:45 or some ungodly hour tomorrow.

Countdown to Europe! 47 days!