There's No Place Like Home

Emily and I got pedicures today. I really needed it -- Tuesday, I decided to walk half the way home without shoes.

I chose this color because, DUDE, it's the Ruby Red Slippers. It's actually called Ruby Pumps, but I was so excited -- you can ask Emily. I squee'd all over the place. I don't know how I can not get this color next time I go, too. Also, if you look closely to the foot in the background, you'll see the nasty bruise across my big toe that happened from the pumps that I wore all day on Tuesday. I'm so dumb sometimes.

"If you really want, tonight I'll be Jack White for you"

The Raconteurs concert last night was AMAZING.

They opened with Intimate Secretary, and the show was just uphill from there. By the time they played Level, it didn't matter that I didn't have three Guinnesses in me this time, I was dancing, anyway. I actually thought that when they played Store Bought Bones (they had this really long intro that was just...*gushes*), I actually thought I was going to burst. Or die. And that would have been okay.

They came out for an encore, and I can't actually remember the first song they played because I was too busy thinking "PLEASE PLAY STEADY, AS SHE GOES. PLEASE PLAY STEADY, AS SHE GOES. PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE." (you know, because concerts are loud, so I was thinking it really loudly), so they played that next, and I may have actually peed a little bit. I must have looked like a kid on Christmas. I'm genuinely surprised that I didn't lose my voice, and am now wondering what it would take to lose my voice if I didn't last night.

So, if you haven't had a chance to check them out, I suggest you do it now while it's possible they're still touring and will be in your neck of the woods. Because as much as the CD ROCKS my FACE OFF, the live performance went above and beyond my wildest dreams.

Teresa is such a Pimp

Teresa tried to set me up with her friend James last night. The major flaw in this plan is that James lives in Cleveland. And I don't know what he looks like (and Teresa told me he's a little weird. LOL. Thanks, friend).

I just thought I'd document that for the world to see, because it was funny as hell.

Seriously, though -- We would have Mexican/Irish babies. And he's going to be a neurosurgeon (hello, McDreamy?)

Maybe I should move to Cleveland.

All Kinds of Bullshit

Alisa and I are having MORE problems with the landlady.

Alisa says she does understand (I don't). The woman is ninety-six, blah blah blah. You know. She's fucking ancient. And she doesn't like noise. And she's probably blind. And she definitely can't tell the difference between two people and more than two people people, like how she thinks that there are always people "coming and going and coming and going" all the time, when in truth, other than when we have guests over at reasonable hours (or like, the three isolated times we've had overnight guests), there are two of us. Coming. And Going. Once a day. Sometimes on weekends I don't even leave the house. Seriously. I should have bedsores.

I feel a little guilty (emphasis on a little). I mean, this phone call was probably brought on by my extraordinary drunken performance on Tuesday. I was probably VERY LOUD as I tried to get into my apartment and needed help from a co-worker to figure out how to use my keys. I'm sure that I was laughing and maybe even loudly "whispering" that "SHHHH. WE NEED TO BE QUIET BECAUSE MY LANDLADY IS A CRAZY OLD BAT."

However, it doesn't say anywhere in our lease that we can't have guests. And sure, we could be awful people and throw parties and have people over all the time. But because of her (and also because we're not really the loud crazy party animals she acts like we are, anyway) we've felt obligated to limit our guests to reasonable hours. And we're quiet as we can possibly be (Tuesday aside. I feel like Tuesday will fast become the exception to many of my rules). I mean what the hell does she honestly want from us? How could we be better tenants? By not moving or breathing when we're at home? Fuck her. It would be different if this had just happened once. But she's constantly bitching at us about how many people "live here," and last I counted it was two. I know she's nintey-six, but come. on. Get with the program.

I've had a shitty day. The only redeeming thing that happened to me was that I bought the Lemonheads CD on my way home and also picked up the Libertines because I felt like it. So honestly? I hope we are ruining her life. Because right now the unnecessary guilt I'm feeling because she's BATSHIT INSANE is ruining mine.

Like, who the hell has the audacity to call their tenants and ask "how many people" are living there? WHAT? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the bullshit. Can you honestly not tell the difference between us and our friends? Seriously? (My friends come in a wide variety of colors -- we are like a goddamn crayola box. I seriously don't see how she can confuse us and/or think that Alisa and I are multiple people when she's met our friends). We don't give out our keys, even though there's nothing in the lease about that, and let me tell you how much it sucks to have houseguests and have to say, "Yeah, you're going to have to get out at 7:30 or stay locked in the apartment all day. Thanks!"

God, this is all kinds of bullshit. Grey's Anatomy had better be good, because that's the only thing I am looking forward to tonight - and the rest of my life.

I'm Blaming it on the Fact that I'm Still Hung-over

Do you ever get that sinking, "Oh my god, what have I done" feeling?

It's one thing when you're sure about these things (then again, being sure never helped me before), but the uncertainty, and the doubt...and the "oh shit" factor. It's like I enjoy putting myself in situations that can only end in complete and utter embarrassing agony.

Also, ten months is a LONG TIME. Chicago is a LONG WAYS AWAY.

I feel like I need an escape route. Perhaps a tunnel. (Called grad school?)

I'm sorry I'm being so vague. I couldn't be glib about the situation, so I felt like I should be evasive. If the entry is convoluted enough, maybe no one will know what I'm talking about, and by leaving it entirely up to interpretation makes it like a game. Or modern art.

I had Tostitos for breakfast

I woke up in my own bed. Alone (I feel it needs to be said). Still in my halter dress from the night before. When I finally found my purse, it was in the living room sans a box of cloves. My glasses were behind my bed. I tried piecing things together by myself, but all I got was Bar...Booze...mbta? How I got home was a seriously good question, but who took me home was a better one, since I vaguely remembered that, or thought I had vividly dreamed it -- but I distinctly remembered hugging someone. I had to ask around before I got any answers, and none of them answered the biggest question on my mind which was how big a fool I needed to feel today.

But let's rewind a bit. We had a tenth anniversary party at the firm. There was schmoozing, and food, and more importantly, or at least more to the point, there was booze. I'm pretty sure I embarrassed myself, but it was fine until someone in our circle had the phenomenal idea that since we have to buy whatever booze we opened, someone (looks at she who had been pounding drinking the jack and diet cokes all night) should polish off the bottle of Jack Daniels, so the bartender would have to open a new one.

This is unrelated, but I was surprised to find out that a lot of people in the firm are married to other architects. I guess it makes sense, since you spend so much time around it.

Anyway, since the free booze at the office wasn't enough, apparently, we hit a bar afterwards - Red Sky. I do remember a lot of the evening, just not the getting home part. I'm not exactly known for being able to hold my liquor, so I was in fine form. I think Tim described it best when he said, "Briar has been here a month and has hardly said a word to me, and the first time she says anything substantial, it's all 'Bitch, what?'" My friends know it well as the "Briar has no filter, much less when she's been drinking" phenomenon (like the time I stone cold sober wrote "Beirut, What?" in Lesley and Steve's wedding card).

So, everyone at work found out about me and my non existent filter, and also how that little quiet introverted girl who sits in the corner doesn't say anything because, hello, piping hot giant bowl of the crazy. And then I needed to be walked home. The end? Question mark?

Oh Laura, Where Art Thou

Laura is in Iowa, which means I've no outlet for the CRAZY today.

After countless attempts at printing a file from Revit: "I am going to make this floor plan a .PDF, and then it will be my bitch."

While deciding not to go talk to someone in the office: "That's how chickens talk."

To my computer, and the printer, several times (yes, I said it out loud): WHY do you hate me when I show you nothing but LOVE?!

And also, my new supersacrilegious curse, that I won't share here, but said aloud many times today (except when I substituted the second word for something...Still sacrilegious, but...Maybe less so. Well the combination is less bad, but it's still sacrilege. Mmmm...sacrilicious)

And finally, what needs to happen now: I NEED BOOZE. IN MY FACE.

Sam's Town

According to Rolling Stone, The Killers' new album (Sam's Town) isn't as hot as Hot Fuss. I was actually going to buy this one, but I'm glad I read the review -- it won't make me change my mind, but I'm not going to buy it blindly anymore (like I did with Nightcrawler the day it came out. I was that confident in Pete Yorn). I like Hot Fuss as much as the next person, but I like my "weird" versions, as Ben called them once, better. I found some live...or...pre-release versions on Limewire, and I have to say that while they're illicit different, I'm just used to them now. And we know how adverse to change I am, so therefore, I like those versions more. So, I never bought Hot Fuss. The user reviews for Sam's Town are much more flattering, but now I'm just going to have to preview it and see for myself.

I do try my best to buy CDs now, even though sometimes by "preview," I mean "download the whole thing because, seriously...I'll buy it someday. Seriously." Part of it is the guilt of downloading, but the other part of it has been in realizing how I'm missing out on some good music by only downloading one or two songs (plus my time is too valuable to me now to sit there for hours searching for every last song on particular albums).

I suppose next on my list is the Lemonheads new self-titled album. I don't care what kinds of reviews that gets -- I've listened to it straight through a few times, and it will be worth the money. I hope Rolling Stone doesn't crush my Lemonheads dream, too, though. Or I will have to cut someone.

Why?

Why would you want to ruin my life Emma Watson?

Monday Madness - Reader Participation I

From jstar: Holiday in Europe or Asia?

This is one instance where I can't really choose. First of all, going to Europe is so cliche. Everyone does it. Going to Asia is becoming more cliche than it used to be, but only because people are bored of going to Europe.

Here's the thing: it makes me feel SO UNCULTURED when people talk about the amazing architectural wonders of Europe. If I had a few months and unlimited budget (none of this backpacking/hostel business. I'm just too much of a princess. I know that makes me...well, a princess -- I've accepted it. Let's move on) -- I'd hit every place in Europe that I could.

If I had more time, and more money, I'd go to Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Agra, and Bangkok. Then I'd actually research Asia, and find other interesting places to hit. Alas, I probably won't do all the world travel I'd like, but I'm up for almost anything (plus I feel like I haven't fully explored the U.S. yet, although I've been a lot of places in the South and Northeast).

From sherle: How do you try to change a behavior pattern you don't like about yourself... whether it's chewing fingernails, overeating, smoking, or picking your nose?

I don't. I lead an incredibly hedonistic lifestyle.

From tricia: Have you ever successfully completed a Sudoku puzzle?

Um...yes.

Oh. And, seriously?

(I won't even start with the snark...you're welcome)

From caylynn: What website do you visit the most often?

Well, bloglines and del.icio.us. I prefer bloglines, but some of the sites I like to visit don't have RSS feeds, so I have to bookmark them on del.icio.us, of which I'm still not a fan, even though nataliedee and drew are both pimping it.

That was a cheat of an answer, though. I suppose the only websites I check daily (or with alarming frequency) are nataliedee and Penny Arcade. I also visit a softer world a lot, but it's only updated weekly, otherwise I'd probably hit that page more than once a day, too. And anyone with stats on their blogs can attest to the fact that I check those rabidly, too.

From michael morgan: What was your favorite thing about high school or college?

Mostly that it's over. No, I'm not kidding or being sarcastic because I think it's a stupid question. I do miss some things about college. Staying up late and being able to go to the mall on a Wednesday morning when no one else was there. But sometimes being unattached, childless, etc. translates into college life with a paycheck. Plus there are weekends; real weekends where there is no test or p-set in the upcoming week. Sure, there's more responsibility and less vacation, but that's okay. Would I love to have the paycheck, my own apartment and be of age for all of my vices -- minus the responsibilities? Sure. But that's not what college or high school were about, either.

Also, you couldn't pay me enough to do high school over again. Or MIT. I'm just sayin'.

from monday madness.

Scoooooba

I've been seriously considering getting a roomba, lately. I've wanted one for a while (Laura, you might know why...), but I always thought that it would be a ridiculous purchase. However, based on the number of times I've busted out the dustbuster? And the amount of dust covering our floor? It would certainly justify perhaps busting out the sweetping/vacuuming tools more often [than never], but as Sundry said in her recent review of the roomba:

I own a Dustbuster, an upright vacuum, a Swiffer, and a special little broom-and-dustpan combo, and yet none of those objects did what I wanted, which was for them to clean the floor by themselves.

Amen.

But then. THEN...Phil sent me this link.

A SCOOBA?! Must...Have...SCOOOOOOBA.

I mean. Something less crazy.

Is it slightly pathetic? Yes. I'm not exactly too busy to mop the floors once a week or anything. I'm young and spry. I should be doing all that cleaning myself. Blahblahblah.

Maybe I'll ask for one for Christmas.

I prefer the bright floodlights of cynicism

Okay, here goes. If you haven't seen the Last Kiss -- SHAME ON YOU. But if you have, there's something I didn't write earlier because I saw it opening weekend and I thought it would actually be really mean to post this since maybe some people wouldn't have a chance to see it until this weekend.

SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING


So, you know how at the end of the movie, she finally lets Michael into the house? And you're left to imagine...Whatever you want about whether or not they get back together, and how happy they'd be?

Then, the song that they play over the credits is Joshua Radin's Star Mile. It's one of those things that I kept inside at the time. Like...Yeah, sure they'll be happy together. Yeah, I'm not a cynic. Yeah, I believe in "love." You know. Love, and the loch ness monster, and objectivism. And bigfoot.

The truth is, we believe what we need to believe to get on with our lives, or what we need to believe to wake up in the morning. In high school, when everyone thought I was...So hopeful and one of those people who truly believed in love, I was still the same bitter and cynical Briar underneath it all, even though I really did believe...In what, I have no clue, I just believed. And I really thought that if I believed strongly enough, it would be true (I pulled the same thing with Santa, okay? I was a delusional child. I was smart. I'd figured it out. But I sat there and lied to my mom -- to her face -- and told her I'd seen Santa, even though we both knew I was 110% full of shit. I was five, and we both stared at each other for a while, and that was the first time I figured out that my mom didn't really have all the answers, after all). I always believed that love, whatever it was at the time, would get me through all of the crap. LOVE? WHAT? Jesus. What was I thinking? LOVE? If romantic love is an ingredient in the recipe for happiness, then it's just in there for flavor. Love isn't what makes a relationship work, hard work is. I don't mean to take the romance out of it, it's just that at the end of the day, when you take away those really great, butterfly in the stomach feelings, you're left with something else -- something different -- and what you choose to do with that is what can make it real, or special. But there's always going to be temptation, frustration, and external factors beyond your control (like college boyfriend's horrible mother. Wait, did I say that out loud?). You can't rely on this intangible notion of some fairy-tale feeling to get you past all of that, unless you're both equally delusional (and I say this as someone who is very susceptible to delusion. VERY SUSCEPTIBLE).

And that was today's rant brought to you by my future as a bitter spinster. Yesterday, a cat tried to FORCE it's way into my apartment. It's like someone is telling me to just go ahead and embrace it now -- just to save myself years of lying to myself.

*I don't really feel this way. Completely. I feel this way today. Because today I am on a rampage. It's a "Best not get near me if I have a pencil in my hand, or it might find its way into your eye" kind of day.

**Oh, and I'm also just kidding about the shame on you thing. Really. I understand that people besides me actually have lives and don't need to go see Zach Braff's New Movie Right Now all the time.

Joshua Radin - Star Mile

Old doubt and a girl by your side, she's feeding your pride
as you go for a ride down the star mile
world's rise as she lets you come in
a duo begins to the Hollywood din
of the lonely

And all the gold dust in her eyes
won't reform into a ring
You had and lost the one thing
you kept in a safe place
remember the face
the girl who had made you her own
and how you left her alone

All's well at the base of the hill
you might need to fill
a prescription to kill
off the sirens
look down from your tower on high
and take in the night
look her right in the eye
she'll listen

and all the gold dust in her eyes
won't reform into a ring
you had and lost the one thing
you kept in a safe place
remember the face
the girl who had made you her own
and how you left her alone


life comes to those that'll choose
the regular news
over playing the blues with the light on


and if you burn the road that'll lead you
back to her in time
i'll watch you turn to stone
can't find the sublime
she's moving on without you
the tide breaks
you watch the stars fake
they gather you back to their homes
i guess it's better than being alone

Preservation of History

I went to see Rem Koolhaas lecture about the Preservation of History at the GSD tonight.

I always feel addle brained and inarticulate after a lecture. Is that odd? Shouldn't I be brimming with ideas and feel stimulated by the words and ideas that this famous architect just said? Shouldn't I want to have an intellectual discourse with the people who went to the lecture with me, who probably share similar interests and ideas?

Instead, I just sat there, feeling dumb. The only thing I could say after today's lecture was, "well, he didn't sound as full of shit as some of these people do," which was true, but really. Did I need to say that in front of people I just met a month ago?

We parted ways right after the lecture, Scott going to "grab a bite," Eric off to meet a friend, and me...Walking home with a cigarette and my dumb words floating around in my head. Stupid.

Rem wasn't full of shit, though his point was lost on us (it was lost on me, and Eric said it was also lost on him). Evidently, the whole hour of words could be summed up in a few sentences. Something about a guy. An architect. Knowing something about how his architecture wouldn't last forever? Or thinking that it would? Something about tenements?

Seriously -- it was very convoluted, and it did not sum up the rest of the lecture, which was very clear, albeit without that one sentence that sums it all up in the end, it felt like something was missing (although, I suppose he did try).

He talked about the dilapidation of the Reichstag, and about how the most glorious re-births of cities come from the most horrible destruction, because it's only then that we're free to rebuild without the guilt and the oppression and the desire to preserve older buildings. He showed a slide of a doorknob that fell off of a door. What do we do with it now? Hitler probably touched that doorknob. Does that mean it's evil? That it should be destroyed? Or is it a part of history that should be preserved?

The oddest part of the lecture was that it was pretty clear to me the whole time that Rem is all about preservation architecture. But he kept presenting both sides of the coin without very much weight on either - no pros or cons. So I figure he's going to get to that part in the end. He then said that most preservation architecture is totally fake and completely disgusting to him (okay, maybe his words weren't that strong, but that's what I took from them). So...Is he for it or against it? Does he just think it's done wrong? In my mind, he made no compelling arguments either way, except to stress that he could see beauty in the chaos of this dilapidated building. (You're going "What?" Yeah, me too).

I feel like I'm pro-sustainable design. But I'm also incredibly short sighted with that view because by sustainable I'm usually referring to how a new building can be sustainable. I'm just not about preserving buildings that exist and making those more efficient -- if they're ugly and horrible and don't work, anyway - historic or not *cough*sweden. I guess it can work both ways, I just usually lean towards the former.

So this lecture left me with more questions than answers, so I was glad for the long walk home, except for the shoes I was wearing. But I just wish that I could have listened to people discuss this lecture afterwards. Yeah, I know. I'm such a whore when it comes to discussion. I LOVE to listen to people discuss -- the grittier, the more emotional, the better. I just HATE to participate. What? I'm a woman. We're allowed to be complicated. (I'm also very. Very. Shy)

(Nice Dream) --- Not.

I had the most fucked up dream I've had in a while last night.

I was on the beach, with some friends, maybe some family, and some co-workers. We were all laying around, soaking up some sun, having some barbeque -- you know, the usual. This was all very vivid, even though it was no beach I'd ever been to. I fell asleep on my towel, and woke up with the feeling that I had a film in my mouth, you know, the one you get when you eat too much sugar? I excused myself to the restroom to take care of it, and when I got to a mirror, I saw that the film, which was kind of greyish and sticky looking, had covered the corner of my mouth and sort of spread onto the side of my face a bit. "Sick," I thought, "I must have really been going to town with the sleep-drool" (monologue that I could not make up if I tried. My dreams should be major motion pictures, people) I opened my mouth wide, and pulled what I was still guessing was drool off my face. This exposed a gash in between my mouth and cheek. Stuff -- stuff that I can only describe as a pus-like ooze, with bits of neon green -- started pouring out of my face. It just...kept coming, and these little things about the size and shape of hominy started falling out of my cheek, too. I was disgusted and horrified...it was the most vile thing that's ever happened to me in a dream, to be honest. I didn't know what to do first. Vomit? Keep squeezing the God-knows-whats out of my face? Look at it some more? Meanwhile, my face was still gushing. I couldn't tell if it was coming out of me -- like under my cheek -- or just...you know; inside my cheek. Neither option was particularly appealing, and this stuff wasn't slowing down, so I don't know why I was just standing there contemplating it.

By the end of the dream (what I mean by that is by the time my alarm went off), I'd sorted out that they were some weird bug's eggs. Something that was a cross between a centipede and a caterpillar. It had laid eggs inside my cheeck while I was napping.

Gross, right?

Then, after I hit snooze, I sort of tumbled into the middle of another dream, where this boy I'm kind of crushing on said something about his girlfriend. Actually, what he said was that he didn't know why he went out with this totally cute, funny girl last night, because he's been with his girlfriend for two years, and the whole thing felt all weird. Either way, things were not coming up Briar in that situation.

I've never been more happy to be awake and back in my boring old routine.

I Know it's Different, but That's Why P&P Scared Me

When Emily and I went to see the Last Kiss, it opened with Snow Patrol's Chocolate.

I squeezed her arm, "I knew it was coming eventually, but they opened with it -- with a lousy interpretation of the video. The phenomenal video. Emily, I'm going to have to hide under the seat screaming until it's over."

It ended quickly enough, as Zach Braff -- excuse me, "Michael" -- pulled his Prius into a parking space, and we all got on with our days. I doubt anyone actually noticed. [Maybe the people around us did. I wasn't exactly discreet. Perhaps it was because I'm rude. Or perhaps it was the two Jack and Diet Cokes I'd had before the movie. Who knows?]

I only write this now because I'm barely getting over it. It's not that the song has been ruined for me (I just listened to it just now), it's just going to take some time to get past the whole associating it with The Last Kiss thing, and how it just gave me the heebie-jeebies. I mean, they weren't fucking around when they used it prominently in the previews.

[Currently Spinning: Snow Patrol - Days Without Paracetamol]

I Need A Shower

You know that really awesome feeling you get when someone you totally dug in your past finds you on myspace or facebook, or God, remember the days of friendster?

Yeah, that feeling, but the complete opposite -- for that guy that STALKED YOU when you were in middle school, and then spread really horrible rumors about you in high school, and then went off and became some weird devil worshiping something or other and then THANK GOD, disappeared off the face of your planet?

So, someone from my past found me on myspace today, y'all -- and I'll betcha can't guess which variety of someone it was?

But It's Pretty Useless When You're DEAD

Florida man takes 50-foot dive for $20

PALMETTO, Florida (AP) -- Mark Giorgio figured a 50-foot plunge was worth $20. Giorgio, 47, was counting his money and walking across the U.S. 41 bridge over the Manatee River Monday when a $20 bill blew out of his hand and flew over the rail.

He followed. And plummeted 50 feet into the river. Then he swam about 100 yards to fish the bill from the water.

"I got my money back, hell yeah," Giorgio told the Sarasota Herald-Tribune. "Twenty bucks is a lot of money when you're broke."

He was fished from the water by a passing Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission officer.

Giorgio, who said he was already suffering from a broken collarbone, refused treatment for cuts and scrapes he suffered in the fall.

Copyright 2006 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

Find this article at:
http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/09/20/chasingmoney.ap/index.html

I've Already Got A Seat in Hell, Thanks.

I've developed a Really Annoying Subway Habit -- but it was intentional and I totally love it.

I've complained before about how people's newspapers will spill over onto my seat; into my space. Usually it's some snotty paper, like the New York Times( -- which I read. Online. Where it won't sit in other people's laps) or the FT (and I do admit I'm intrigued by the pink paper, but I digress). My mom actually suggested that next time it happens, I lean a little so that it's Very Obvious that I'm reading their paper. I tried it, and so far, it's worked every time.

The awesomeness is twofold. First, it REALLY annoys the crap out of whoever you're doing it to. Trust me. There's nothing I hate more than some bitch who should be reading her copy of The Economist that is sitting right there in her lap instead of STARING at my crossword-puzzle-doing (look, ho, it's not my fault you picked up the most boring publication in the world this morning. Stop watching me do the crossword (OHMYGODSTOPSTARINGATME)). And it bugs people. Every. Time.

Their reaction is usually pretty angry, which would bother me except that my goal is to annoy them, and getting the reaction you want is nothing short of completely gleeful. They shift the paper out of your way so you can't see it. And PRESTO! It's OUT OF YOUR SPACE. Seriously -- it's like MAGIC.

Second, I sometimes get to read some pretty cool stuff in the New York Times. The Financial Times, not so much, but that's an unimportant detail since the paper will soon be ripped from my face, anyway. But more importantly -- it's HILARIOUS to watch people besides me get angry in the morning. Two wrongs may not make a right, but it makes me happy -- so it can't be all bad.

Because I Really Needed to Do My Laundry...

I have made a decision re: the DS Lite, people. After I found this article at gamespot.com, I knew what I had to do.

The bundle hits stores October 24 with a $149.99 price tag, and includes either a pearl pink or teal-colored system, and a "Best Friends" version of Nintendogs that lets gamers start the title with the six most popular breeds from the three existing Nintendogs games: Labrador retriever, golden retriever, German shepherd, beagle, Yorkshire terrier, and miniature dachshund. As with the other versions of the game, all 18 breeds are unlockable in the "Best Friends" edition. Other bonuses in the package include a Nintendogs-branded, bone-shaped screen cleaner and a paw-print-riddled Nintendogs skin for the system.

In other news, Rem Koolhaas will be giving a lecture at Harvard's GSD on...uh, shit. I probably shouldn't say when. The only time I managed to get in to a lecture at Harvard (Zaha Hadid right after she won the Pritzker Prize), we went pretty early, and were still in satellite room with the projector screens. It's not so bad, really, but if I'm going to have a seat, at least it can be in the same room as the famous architect? Eh. Maybe not. Whatever -- we'll see. For those of you who aren't familiar with Rem or his work, I gave this analogy to Laura earlier today:

This is like...if...Justin Timberlake was going to give a lecture on...being sexy.

So I'll let you know how it goes. I had big plans to see a movie tonight...or at least do my laundry. It looks like I'll be doing neither, since I'm still at work. What a shame.

[Currently Spinning: Little Brazil - Now It's Time]