Fahrenheit 9/11

That movie was amazing. I feel wrung out and angry and speechless. I'm also completely unprepared for the exam that's starting in five and a half hours, but that's a price I'm willing to pay.

Please go see this movie. Even if you hate Michael Moore, even if you think he's a manipulative asshole who fudges facts and calls himself a documentarian, even if you disagree with everything he stands for--go see Fahrenheit 9/11. Because if nothing else, it will make you think, it will make you talk, it will make you question--and if there's anything our country needs right now, it is more thinking, talking, and questioning.

She's aliiiiive!

Ladies and gentlemen, I have now officially survived the last exam of my undergraduate career. Thank yew, thank yew.

Now I just need to get to paying the University the oodles of money I owe them so they can send me my sixty-odd-thousand dollar piece of paper. Wooo, I say.

I decided on the spur of the moment to be a good girl and come into work right after the final instead of going home and taking a nap first. This way I figure I can stay here until remaining upright becomes too much of a challenge, then go home and sleep until Josie Joe's going away party tonight. Which reminds me: my friend Joe (otherwise known as Joe the Amazing Four Day Boyfriend, but that is a tale for another day), it transpires, somehow managed to get an amazing job with Microsoft for an obscene salary straight out of freaking undergrad, and is moving out to Seattle in a week. Don't get me wrong, I greatly enjoyed much of my liberal arts education, but I'm more than a wee bit envious of the job opportunities to which I will now never have access.

Ho hum. Boydumb is running rampant through my world at the moment, and it's making me all sorts of cranky. That the only male in my life who has not succumbed to the boydumb disease just happens to live several states away is not helping matters any. Feh. Feh, I say.

quixoticdancer, I am happy to report, is alive and, if not exactly well, at least conscious enough to show up at work and distract me, for which I am grateful. I mean, I know I've witnessed my coworkers falling asleep at their desks on more than one occasion (and, in fact, even had quite the amusing conversation with CoworkerJ about it this morning), but there's only so much blatant slacking I can do before I start to feel guilty.

Speaking of which, I should try to get a little done while I'm still conscious enough to read without glazing over completely.

Oh yes, and on a totally unrelated note: I would just like to announce that "I'm as excited as a former virgin the third time she has sex" (curtesy of belisima) is quite possibly the best simile I've ever read.

Yes, I do need sleep, why do you ask?

A few of the more fantastic phrases from the document I'm currently proofing, this wonderful fire-and-brimstone panegyric with a two-paragraph-long title, claiming to speak in the voice of God:

Star of Condemnation
waxed fat and exalted
filthiness of the flesh
fleshly exaltation abounds
seven mountains of perfect abomination
your whoredoms shall appear
womb of darkness
your bed forever in hell and death
Defiled, defiled and loathsom are you in the pure eye of light
overflowing whirlwind of wrath
fire of eternal fury
carnal apprehensions of the natural man
fat Pastures of eternal pleasures
Eat not of the Vine of Sodom, nor drink not of the Cup of whoredoms

Also, my proofreading Word of the Day is...
Scituate, for which the OED provides no definition. I suspect it's just a funky alternate spelling of situate, but please do come up with some inventive new definitions for me and leave them in comments.

Yes, I know I'm a nerd. But every once in a while. I'm a nerd who actually has fun at my job, and that ain't gonna happen if I don't invent ways to make it interesting. So there.