It�s still nasty outside, but at least it�s warmer today. I am, as expected, pissed at this craphole country I live in, but I�ll live. Besides, how mad can I be when I have laundry fresh pants to put on as soon as I am done here?

I just got an email from someone who used to be a very close friend. I think that he just wanted to see how I�m doing. It was weird, though, that as soon as the geographical distance increased, so did his personal distance. Granted, the fact that becoming seriously involved with Luke coincided with said geographical distance may have even more to do with it. I suspect friend had a yen for me, despite our never having met in person. We spoke on the phone and emailed all the time prior to the beginning of my relationship with Luke and friend said he was having erotic dreams, the kind that don�t leave you for days, about me.

I was perturbed this morning to find that diaryland was screwing up, but I checked the news page and saw that it was only temporary, thus soothing my irk. It didn�t help, of course, that when I turned on the TV to my daily dose of background noise (aka Martha Stewart) all I had to listen to was war coverage.

I have to buy socks today. Searching through my underwear drawer and trying to figure out which socks have holes and which ones don�t is a royal pain in the ass. So, I�m going to head to Target, buy a slew of white socks, and do what Luke does: just throw them into my drawer unpaired and blindly pick two at a time. If I wanted to get really adventurous, I could go Bobbing For Socks and use my teeth to pick them up. I think I�m on to something with this. I could reinvent all kinds of childhood busygames and then market them! Pin the sock on the Chili Pepper! Tiddlysocks! Oh, such brilliance.

Actually, about the Chili Peppers, is it me, or have they slipped into being old? Every time I hear a new single on the radio, I find myself gasping for air and poking at the radio to make it stop. It pains me to know that they�ve gone so soft. Yes, I saw them after the released Californication, after Anthony had cut his beautiful hair and dyed it blond, and they hadn�t completely slid into the composting bucket yet. Now, I hear that they�re coming to Madison and I want to run screaming. People complain about Norah Jones being so easy listening and John Mayer being boring, but at least they don�t pretend to be asskicking rockers. The same sad thing has happened to U2 and, to some extent, REM. These things make me sad. I miss the rock of my childhood.