Ah, Spring! I love this time of year - the sprouting of new grass, the budding of trees and flowers, the girls in the short skirts and low shirts. And I love the pervasive feeling of hope for the future, walking out of the apartment and feeling a sense of grand possibility. But most of all, I love the smell of spring; the wind carries on it another dimension to everything that you see - cut grass, warm air, perfume...

Sorry about that. Yes it's still winter, and I'm really unhappy about it. I know for sure because when I woke up this morning, the light coming through my window was so grey it actually sucked all the color out of my room, making my morning ritual look not unlike a scene from Eraserhead (minus the baby). Actually, this morning wasn't so bad, since I've taken to showering and shaving at night. So the morning ritual only involves brushing my teeth, making lunch, and putting on pants (the cruelest cut of all).

Speaking of pants: Sam works longer hours than I do, generally coming home at around 7:30 or so (whereas I get back at 6:30 generally, sometimes later, sometimes earlier). The other day, he came in a little earlier than usual (a day on which I had come in a little later than usual), so that he was through the door only a few minutes after me. He walked in, saw me in the kitchen, and said "Nice pants." Now, I knew I was wearing my new jeans from the Canal Street Jeans going out of business sale (and what a disaster that is), but Sam didn't know that. I realized later that that was the first time Sam had seen me during the week in something other than my pajama pants - I'm either asleep or still shuffling around the apartment when he leaves in the morning, and have changed already by the time he gets back. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but then I realized that it just means that I wear my flannel pants a lot, which is pretty much how I want to behave, so everything is going according to plan.

He and I are getting together pretty well. I have a few gripes about him, not the least of which is that I've heard from him more than once this week: "Nice! I'm home in time for Felicity!" He's also dead set on getting me to watch Joe Millionaire. And by "dead set" I mean "He watches it and it takes all of my will to prevent myself from sitting on the couch next to him."

There's a show I don't know how to feel about. I mean, obviously it's horrible:

It's on Fox and isn't The Simpsons

It's a reality TV show, the best of which are as good as a visit to the dentist

It's up against Everybody Loves Raymond, and EVERYBODY loves Raymond

But even I have to admit it has it's draw - there's not a single person who reads this blog (I happen to know that everyone who does so is a bad person - shouldn't you be working right now?) who doesn't want to see the expression on the face of the "winner" when she's told this guy isn't really rich. I don't want to want to, but I just can't help it. Luckily the night it was premiering, I had to work to do on ATF (which had I not done may have resulted in my lynching by my best friends).

Man, remember the good ole' days of the blog, when it was all about psychotic housemates and crazy parties? I blame the winter (and the fact that Sam is a mentally stable guy with a job). Once the weather gets warmer, I'll start attending things that are interesting to read about (there was an opportunity this season to go to a Santa party, but those red robes are chillier than you'd first expect, and I don't do well in the cold - my nipple ring starts to ice up, and that gets seriously uncomfortable). Until then we're all just going to have to be content with what we got. Next entry: An update to my NBA2k3 season on Sams Playstation 2!


Oh, and I just checked out the imdb listing for Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines. Although I didn't think of it before, it comes as no surprise to me that the female Terminator is called The Terminatrix. God bless Hollywood.