Cranky Post

I might have to go on a news and popular culture strike. It's just all getting too silly for me to deal with.

Do I care about which random celebrity is pregnant, or wearing a beige dress, or really excited about lip gloss? I do not.
Do I want to witness the bizarre spectacle of TV pundits jizzing all over one another? I do not.
Do I have the mental resources in this, the holiday season, the darkest month of the year, to perform the necessary feminist analyses of the op-ed landscape? I do not.

And don't get me started on the PBS lineup the last couple of months. There is a very serious conspiracy going on there, which I'm sure I will vent about some day.

It's all I can to to drag my ass out of my nice comfy bed into the cold unforgiving wind each morning. And the air is so dry my hands are cracking and I am leaving hand-lotion streaks all over my keyboard and desk. Ick.

That is all, loyal readers. There are other things going on in Lab Land, but I cannae be bothered wi them tha noo.

(However, I must not miss the finale of America's Next Top Model. You've got to hit rock-bottom before the recovery process can begin.)