Tuesday, January 31, 2006

I'm Too Lazy To Have ADD

I have two classes on mondays (same on wednesdays!). They are both spectacularly boring. The professors don't lecture - which is normally a big plus - but it's a big load of crap when there is no direction or structure to the discussion and it degenerates into an hour and a half of 19 and 20 year olds spouting off about their feelings on various, mostly irrelevant and unrelated topics having to do with any of the following: race; socio-economic status; personal experience as a stereotyped minority; personal experienced as a privileged ________(fill in the blank, any and all apply); Latin America; the socialist book they read last semester; Africa; Africans; slavery; the slave trade; US history; the homeless guy on the corner they give money to; sexuality; feminism - the first and second waves; social movements; travel; gender issues; NPR; the "indie" "magazine" they work for; small, conservative hometowns; how much they love this big, colorful city; personal experience of walking down the street and having someone whistle and make obscene gestures; references to the NYTimes article they read over the weekend - and its relation to their independent study on pop culture's portrayal of 3-legged hermaphrodites and their miraculous birth children; identity politics; all things "identity" - sexual, national, gender, racial, ethnic, tribal, borough, political, hair color; vast personal knowledge of the problems of the Middle East, particularly terrorism, Iraq and the Palestinian-Israeli conflict (and how to solve them all); reference to the radical bookstore they frequent and the reading they sat in on; capitalism; globalization; child slavery; prostitute smuggling; the ground breaking conclusion they reached over a $6 free-trade organic coffee that we shouldn't forget the atrocities of the Peloponnesian War and how it informs our sense of location and national identity in the global family; educational inequalities; Bush jargon; the documentary film that their friend made in Brooklyn over the weekend as an hommage to the documentary film made by some french director in the 1960s and the meaning behind its cultural critique; experience as a waiter.

Point being: I was bored. So I did what any product of the '90s would do. I started shaking my leg - toe always in contact with the floor, just moving the heel up and down spastically (in solidarity with all those who have dealt with and overcome their struggle with ADD or ADHD or ABCDD). But my leg got tired. I may have the attention span of a two year old coke fiend. Or a gold fish. But I don't have enough energy to expend moving all the time. Let me take a nap and be done with it.

Sunday, January 29, 2006

"Angelina, Bono ... Wow ... Who Else Is Attending?"*

...the World Economic Forum.


Apparently dark hair is the new "I'm a politically active celebrity." And leather blazers with torn hoodies are the new navy blue suits of world politics.

Is anyone else irritated with the coverage of the World Economic Forum? I'm gonna be honest, I haven't been following it, despite it's probably serious ramifications for the future of people around the world who lack influence in national and international political or economic posturing (I mean, policy making). But the very little I have seen of headlines and photos star the picturesque faces of Bono and Angelina Jolie (and, even more inexplicably, Brad Pitt... since when are significant others of economists featured on covers of online journals news sites?). Despite their photo-op-laden do-gooding around the world, I somehow suspect that there are people with a bit more knowledge and experience in the field of world economics than a pop star or Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Not that I am ragging on the fact that they are using their fame for good causes, but I would imagine that even they would rather an expert (say, someone that worked in the actual field of Third World debt relief) - or perhaps one of the voiceless they profess to be soapboxing for - were the focus of the world's attention on the World Economic Forum. As opposed to Angelina's now visible baby bump. Or Bono's glasses. Fantastic that your pet cause is more meaningful than making sure only beautiful people get on tv or that Starbucks doesn't go out of business, but can you (and/or the media) put a bit of the attention on the significance of the cause, and the people it stands to benefit, instead of yourself?

"The guest list [for the World Economic Forum] is a cut-down version of the who-is-who of business and politics."* The only problem is, because of the media's shite coverage, no one knows who most of them are or what they're working for.

"But ultimately it's all about boosting globalisation, isn't it? The organisers of the World Economic Forum... insist that their meetings are all about 'improving the state of the world.'"* Despite the highly publicized presence of these much-lauded, benevolent causes (and their higher-profile celeb cheerleaders), this forum looks more like a CEO convention than a meeting of UN NGOs. Perhaps if the list of participants didn't read quite like a "who-is-who" list of the biggest, most profitable, most influential transnational corporations in the world, and included at least a few, obligatory lobbyists for the poor and downtrod (besides, of course, Jolie & her global family), we might be a bit more willing to believe that this is more than a celeb-rich publicity stunt.

Can't wait to see Joan and Melissa's coverage of next year's World Economic Forum - I bet they have some real zingers for all those navy suits.

*courtesy of the (normally venerable) BBC News.

Brunch

I brunched today with two lovely ladies from a semester spent in Firenze and it was excellent. Kamsquad, Chips and I went to 12 Chairs on Macdougalwhich has excellent omelettes, amazing french toast and hot waitresses with sexy Israeli accents.

So, after walking home - literally across the island of Manhattan - from the west village, I am home, and have now been awake for a solid three and a half hours.

Why is it that eating brunch makes me want go to sleep? Do all brunch foods have that ingredient (kryptonite? percocet? tryptophan?) in turkey that makes you sleepy after Thanksgiving?

Regardless, (and, "in case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening and") good night.

Friday, January 27, 2006

Work Avoidance = Binge Eating. Take 423.

I have no self-control. The other day, in an effort to eat better (groan), I bought two king size Mr. Goodbars (peanuts have nutritional value, duh) that I was going to ration for several days as my only sweets. Cut to the next evening when I inhaled the second entire bar in one sitting.

Also, you know how most college kids have various liquor bottles serving as decoration in their apartments and dorm rooms? Well I do too (except that half of mine are still unopened). Except I also have multiple jars of Sarabeth's jam serving as accent pieces. Colorado Vodka, text books, pictures of the Fam and StrawberryPeach Jam. Freak.

Speaking of jam, about ten minutes ago, after eating only one PB&J, I was going to write a quick post about me eating five PB&Js in the last three days. It was going to be sarcastic and self-congratulatory.

However, in the last ten minutes, I have made three seperate trips into the kitchen to make three seperate PB&Js, using three different knives because I immediately put them in the (grossly unsanitary) sink hoping that that will act as a deterrent to the making of the next sandwich. The last one was made using the two heels of the loaf of 14 grain bread. (sidenote: 14 grain bread? are you kidding me? are we sure this consists of anything besides grains and seeds mashed together into the form of bread? how is there room for anything such as butter, salt, water or flour in bread that has 14 different kinds of grain? and who knew there were 14 different kinds of grain?) So, the tally: 9 PB&Js in 3 days. The ratio isn't quite as impressive as the original 5 to 3.

Why all this uncontrolled eating? It's because I'm trying to actually do work now. And that's not going terribly well. Due in large part to the fact that every time I get distracted or stumped at what to write next, I start looking for something to eat. Not having gone shopping (to avoid the ability to eat entire boxes of cookies, bags of chips and trays of brownies) I don't have anything to eat. I ate an apple yesterday. Tasty, but did not satisfy the need to binge. So I go and eat PB&Js by the loaf and jar.

Know what else isn't helping the writing of the paper? This blog.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Attention Ladies

Memo: It is January in New York. It is unacceptable to wear short shorts. I don't care that you want to show off your ugly tights and/or boots.

I love nice stems as much or more than the next guy, but you are pale and your legs are purple and goose-bumpy because it's freezing outside. And a woman who is bright enough to look at the weather in the morning and then dress appropriately (read: pants and a coat, not just a coat) is always more attractive than some skinny, shivering bimbo pretenting she's Fergie.



(though do note the tan, lack of goosebumps, lack of tights, lack of boots and the fact that she is also wearing a tank top - not a down parka)

Don't say you never got the memo. Your mom told you when you were younger and now I've told you. Stop pouting, you'd hate to have your face freeze like that.

"Cowboy Boots Are So Hot Right Now"

The weekend before I left Denver, we went to the National Western Stock Show and Rodeo. I had big plans for a long post about culture shock; people watching; tight jeans; fringed vests; cowboy boots worn practically with jeans (instead of worn ironically with mini skirts); token minorities; conservativism; the strapping of young children to sheep and cheering when they fall off; chuckling at animal rights activists; and, perhaps most alien to us, unquestioning (and somewhat disturbing) support of the war in Iraq and the current administration - along with the obligatory message of support for the troops, which everyone agrees with, that's why we want them home, safe and sound, not out shocking and aweing. And dying.

But then I got to New York, school started, friends were seen and my 'roots' were forgotten.

But that doesn't mean I don't have pics for y'all. They're not necessarily the best - they're all of the rodeo. None of the stock show itself - fluffy, prize-winning cows being pampered with blow driers and fresh hay, cowboys and cowgirls celebrating blue ribbons with PBR and large trophies with the classier Coors. None of the crowd, none of the large tractors for sale in downtown Denver, none of the steak restaurant and bar in the middle of the stock yards, none of the great outfits. But you get a little taste of what you're missing.










Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Tuesday Is The New Friday

I talked to daddio for a bit today - he was updating me on his numerous doctors visits, particularly the neurologist, who gave him a pretty swell prognosis. Except that, according to law in CO, daddio isn't allowed to drive for 3 months after his most recent seizure. Which means daddio and mombeeno are going to be doing a lot of bonding in tight, enclosed - though well upholstered - space, with a bangin' sound system. With which to blast Enya. Or Fleetwood Mac. He also updated me on all of his and mombeeno's plans through next Monday. If anyone wants to find my parents on Sunday evening, just let me know, I can give you their full itinerary.

I actually feel a teen bit bad because I told daddio I had to hang up with him because I have a paper to write. Which is true.

But, as Kamsquad said, "Tuesday is the new Friday" - and lord is it ever!

I had salad for dinner. While I was watching American Idol - a dull bunch of auditions, but worth it for the accents. (For a much better recap, I would suggest checking out Jaded's I haven't been keeping up with this ball of optimism as well as I should, but last I checked (2 years ago, sweet hezeus time flies) he made me pee my pants). Then a FULL HOUR of Scrubs. Does life get any more exciting than this? I think not.

Until now, when I begin my paper. It is supposed to be an essay "inspired by George Orwell." Which would be no problem if I were... well... George Orwell. But I'm not. So, I'm thinking about doing my own interpretation of the assignment. Something along the lines of: "inspired by Jen Hubley." I'll let you know how well it goes over in touchy-feely-save-the-world-class tomorrow.

Monday, January 23, 2006

JiggaWha?

Much to my surprise, the 2006 Bloggie noms are up. I don't quite know what's wrong with the system yet, but somehow my nomination and reserved spot on the finalist list got lost. Damn. I thought for sure, after all my hard work, I was a shoe in this year.

So in an effort to try out a new me, I'm going to see what it's like being a bigger person and telling you to go vote for some of the lovelies at other sites.

And if you're too lazy to figure out who to vote for on your own, I'll be doing my own research - I am, afterall, a student - and then I'll let you know who to vote for. In the mean time, I suggest you check out You Can't Make It Up because, barring major shifts in planetary arrangement, I'll probably be voting for miss thang as most humorous blog - and as your cultural messiah, I basically expect you to do the same.

Addendum: Holy shit. What the hell is wrong with me. I just told you to go check out a superior blog that is in competition with me for BBE (best blog ever, obv). So, fuck that shit. Never go read You Can't Make It Up - because you can make it up, and you can probably do a better job of it than Ms. Collins - or, at least, I can.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Kumbaya. I Just Threw Up In My Mouth A Little Bit.

I had a class yesterday that seems like it will be good. The professor seems quite capable and dynamic, even if she did overuse the phrase "I have great sympathy for..." Even the other students seem like a pretty good bunch. Some of them even spoke to me, despite the fact that I ooze anti-social vibes on the first day of class (generally speaking, because I am anti-social and don't like meeting new people). And most importantly, they actually seemed like functioning human beings with a grain or two of potentially independent thought instead of liberal groupthink vomit.

Then we went around and introduced ourselves: name, class, major, school, hometown, interests, hobbies, what you want to be when you grow up, volunteering/interning/work background, dog's name, favorite color etc. etc. ad nauseum.

This is where things took a turn for the worse. The class is, generally speaking, about writing and activism (gag me). So, we were supposed to introduce ourselves, as well as our writing background and our background in activism. Uh oh.

I sat there and listened to what was basically the liberal equivalent of a cock fight in which everyone whipped it out to see whose activist creds were bigger. (Except that liberals would never 'fight' - they discuss. Nor would they use the word cock because that is chauvinist. Nor would they compete openly - they keep that on the d.l.)

Nearly every student in the class rattled off the entire list of every progressive organization they did work with once, three years ago, for two days when they were home for a long weekend and their parents took them to the local shelter. Not to belittle what they have done, because some of it truly was impressive, but sweet jesus don't brag about it like a small town highschool football star re-living his glory days at 40.

Have some modesty. And awareness. Writing a letter to a senator does not make you an activist - it makes you a citizen. Doing an afterschool program for 6th grade girls does not make you an activist - it makes you a community member.

"I've been doing activist things my whole life, well, maybe not activist, but community service." Shutthefuckup. Community service is important, but it is not activism. Going to the soup kitchen does not qualify you as a 5 year old activist. And, don't brag about your community service. This is not a college application - you're already in, and we're your peers not the college admissions panel. We are not impressed.

"I got into activism from listening to a lot of NPR." Are you fucking kidding me? Listening to All Things Considered, David Sedaris, Fresh Air and Weekend Edition with your parents turned you on to activism? Let me guess, listening to Rush Limbaugh jump started your addiction to pain killers and seeing Leo Dicaprio drive a Prius made you interested in environmental rights.

Now, I am generally considered a liberal. I've been involved in a few marches and protests in my day, I've volunteered or interned for progressive non-profits. Hell, I have studied all things liberal - human rights, underdevelopment, international relations, multiculturalism and creative writing. But would I ever utter the words "I am interested in eradicating poverty"? NO. Let me make that as emphatic as possible: HELL FUCKING NO. Because I may as well just wear a sign that says "I'm a tool who took a social justice and inequality course one time and still haven't stopped quoting the professor."

If I have to hear one more Environmental Studies major with disheveled hair say that "organic, local produce" is the issue that is closest to their heart, (if I had a quarter for every time I broke down in the produce section of the grocery store from seeing all of those non-organic veggies...) I am going to go all conservative on y'all and whup some ass.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Ready For Graduation!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

If I get one more damn email from my school reminding me that I graduate in 4 months and, more importantly, have a shit-ton of stuff to accomplish before them - ordering my "academic attire", writing my rationale, passing my classes, doing my colloquium, finding a job, applying for graduation, getting tickets for Famsquad to attend graduation, do a personal statement (gag me.), etc. etc. etc. - I am going to absolutely lose it.

No, I am not Ready for Graduation!!! And all these damn emails (which are extremely redundant) are causing a lot of terribly undue stress at a time when I am already trying my damndest to not think about it.

At the very least, lose the over-zealous use of punctuation in the subject line. It's not nearly as exciting as you're making it out to be. If you followed Ready For Graduation with a skull and crossbones, I could maybe see the point. But exclamation points? Blow me.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

New York: The Land Where Your Apartment Is Blisteringly Hot In Summer And Only Moderately Overheated In Winter

I'm back in la citta. The uncomfortable running into people I don't really know has already begun. Seriously, how painful is that: "Hey! If we actually cared how the other were doing we would have stayed in touch since the last time I saw you 3 years ago... How are you!!! Definitely! call me!"

The weather is shit. Apparently I flew in just in time for the coldest night in weeks and today, more shit is going to be piled on to this grey, 35degree day in the form of rain. Are you kidding me? Rain in January? Just snow and be done with it.

The apartment next door is being rennovated so our entire apartment has a generous coating of grey dust everywhere. I spent all day yesterday cleaning my room and the bathroom...

Before:


After:

(notice the important addition of handsoap at the bathroom sink).

Classes start today and that sucks. Especially because, not only am I completely unprepared for the going to class and the having homework bit, I am jobless, fast approaching broke, haven't done anything to handle the things upon which my graduation depends and I have done nothing in anticipation of the fact that, in 4 months, I am going to be thrust out of the warm and sheltered womb that is college (and the associated help of Mom and Dad) into the cold, harsh sonofabitch that is the real world.

Daddio got good news yesterday: no new surgery. The little white spot has gone away on its own accord, there is still a little fluid collection, but the doctor is hoping that it will go away in the next week or two. A little fussing with the dosages of his heart medications and, hopefully, he'll be on the road back to normalcy. He can probably start driving in the next couple of days - which will work miracles for his heart and for his sanity as well as Mombeeno's.

All in all, good to be back - especially the mini-reunions with people I like.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

So Far, So Bomb

I have had such a bomb day. And it's only 12:30pm. Shout out!

I had a teeth cleaning appointment at the dentist at 9:30. I normally hate teeth cleaning because one time I had this crazy woman with red curly hair and she butchered my entire mouth. I'm talking profuse bleedling, puncture wounds, torn lips, inflamed gums and I couldn't eat pain-free for days. I haven't had her in a while, but the memory is enough to ruin most experiences. But today, I had a new lady, Corrine, and she was cute and blond and cheerful (almost too bubbly, but then, I'm an asshole, so I don't have a very high tolerance for bubbly) and fucking good at what she did. It was painless, and I almost fell asleep in the chair - which isn't noteworthy in and of itself, I am notorious for falling asleep in doctor's offices and dentist's chairs, I just normally don't do it while they're doing work in my mouth (normally I'm pinching the skin on the back of my hand in anticipation of shooting pains and the taste of blood), but today I was actually nodding off. And then Corrine and the dentist himself both pronounced my teeth very clean and healthy - which is a big change from a year and a half ago when I spent weeks having painful dental work done. My recommendation? don't go to your university's dental school because you get a killer discount as a student. It is NOT worth the pain and suffering and you're just going to end up going to you're friend's dentist on Central Park South who is excellent and getting the filling fixed (read: replaced) that the dental student fucked up. (Though, dentist did ask if I had become a coffee drinker because he thought my teeth seemed yellower (which I would, upsettingly enough, agree with) and I told him not any more than usual. Then he rattled off the things that can stain your teeth over time. I didn't tell him this, but apparently I should lay off the red wine a bit...

Then I went to Best Buy and had the best customer service ever - which is a first because normally Best Buy customer service blows chunks. But today, all five people that I talked to (and I never talk to store clerks) were extremely helpful and pleasant. I bought the dvd Red Eye.



Then I went to Walgreens and bought new razors - which is long, long overdue. The man who checked me out (at the cash register, duh) was nice and helpful but made a snarky remark about shaving being expensive. Which I completely agree with, but that doesn't mean you have to poit out the fact that I haven't shaved in over a week and look like an absolute idiot with patches of hair all over my face except where one would want it to grow. I look like a mid-puberty hipster trying to grow a meaningful beard.

Then I raced home and watched Red Eye. This movie rocks. It is just as good, just as suspensefull, the second time as it was the first. I bit of most of my remaining nails. Actually, no, I just destroyed the two that I've been working on all week. There's basically nothing but a few shreds left. And lots of dead skin. Yum. But if you haven't seen it, go out and buy - don't rent, it's a waste of money, you'll end up buying it anyway - Red Eye. Fucking Awesome. (If you disagree on this point, kindly shut up, this is my blog and I distinctly remember not asking for your opinion).



Is Cillian Murphy not the absolute best villan ever? Those eyes... eeh! And Rachel McAdams is hot. So is one of the flight attendants. Also, I think it's important to note that Colby Donaldson of Survivor, Australia had a small role in this film. So, at the very least, you can chuckle at another reality tv "star" "breaking" into "acting".

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Catharsis Over. Crisis Averted.

Don't worry folks. Catharsis over, the vom is out of my system. I can, I believe, now return to being a sarcastic and raging (though, hopefully entertaining) asshole.

In that vein, I'd like to give one last (yeah right, I'll be talking about this for years... "one time, in Ghana...") shout out to Africa.

Thus far, the longest-lasting physical effect of my stint in Africa (besides the tan, natch) is the taking of the lariam and the having of the lariam dreams. Though, sadly, we have reached the end of an era and I shall probably return to dreaming about sitting through class or going grocery shopping.

If all of this is a bit too uplifting for you, feel free to get your depression fix here: Farewell, Black Table.

Monday, January 09, 2006

In Which I Vomit On The Page

(If I had been talking, I would have said, “In Which I Vom On The Page”… For Your (dis)Pleasure because what follows is an un-crafted and meandering hodgepodge of the crap that has kept me in a quick temper, biting my nails and a man of particularly few words recently. Mom, Lina and I went up and spent four days in a lovely ranch cross-country skiing, eating beautifuly, enjoying Colorado and being. So that's where I've been. Eat your hearts out.)



Can I recommend that, despite your love of porcini mushrooms (especially when served with simple pasta or margherita pizza in Tuscany and the warm-fuzzies they conjure of fall and friends in Firenze), you avoid the porcini Mushroom Cannelloni? Because if you eat that many un-diluted, it sours the memory and puts your intestines in a (smelly) uproar. Though, it does not invite ‘rhea for a visit. Thank god.

Two songs have been playing, looped, through my head for the past several days. They are: Ray LaMontagne’s Trouble and Amos Lee’s Arms Of A Woman. The lyrics and the hidden message about why these two particular songs (and their choruses) are stuck in my head are up for interpretation, but regardless, the prognosis they bear is not optimistic.

I had a thought recently, it is not a fully-formed thought, but it exists nonetheless: I believe my conception of love may be nothing more than peacefully and happily coexisting with someone, in silence and in raucous laughter, through illness and invigorating endeavors, alone and with company. Is that depressingly pedestrian?

Do you ever wish that all of the people who read your blog didn’t actually know you? And, what do we think of abandoning titles for the posts?

Most of my break at home has been spent avoiding doing the reading and other work necessary for me to complete my rationale and colloquium in the upcoming semester, both of which are necessary for me to graduate at the end of the next semester. To be quite (though, perhaps not perfectly) honest, I am terrified of, and exalted by the prospects for this next semester; this last semester of school. And the ensuing transition, entrance, (potential) failure in the “real world.” I am exhausted by my own fears and optimistic expectations for next semester; returning to school; leaving school; not maintaining friendships; maintaining friendships; worrying long-distance about the health and happiness of my family; the all-consuming fear that, perhaps, I will never find someone with whom I share love; the tension of looking for a job – the inevitable rejections, putting myself out there to have my resume, my life and myself evaluated by strangers who probably didn’t get the rose-colored glasses I sent out with the memo about me being desperate – the admittance of incompetence or at least of a lack of experience; wanting to find something, some work, that is meaningful, but settling for any paying busboy or bar-back job (but what if I can’t even land one of those!?); taking a graduate course when I feel desperately unprepared for some of my undergrad courses; and feeling that, at the end of four years of schooling, I haven’t come away with an understanding or knowledge that adds up to anything more meaningful than an indulgence of the idealistic interests of youth.

A "white spot" showed up on Dad's most recent CT scan - prompted by a worsening headache. They are going to let it be for a few days, and then, if this week's CT scan shows it is the same or growing, they will repeat "the procedure" (read: brain surgery) to remove this new fluid collection. If they do repeat the brain surgery/hematoma drainage, it would be right around the time the kids are supposed to leave for school...

Cross your fingers that white spots on CT scans shrink and disappear quickly this week. And send good vibes if you've got spares.

I just completed Joan Didion’s humble masterpiece (she would probably shudder at the banal description), “The Year Of Magical Thinking.” It’s spectacular but, for the most part, I’m not going to tell you about it. Didion quotes a line from Philippe Aries: “a single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty.” A touching image I’m sure. But what about those of us who have yet to find (and what if we don’t…) that person who could make our whole world empty. Which is not to say that my inseparable, unquestioningly most important and best friend and my spectacular, supportive family does not have the ability to make my whole world empty. But there is a romantic quality at which, I think, Didion and Aries are hinting.

Didion’s book reads like a long and cathartic conversation with an extremely articulate and close (though perhaps perfectly, and therefore, irritatingly cultured) friend – with all its resultant vignettes, digressions, chats and simple changes in thought process, pattern, path that most authors work so arduously to obliterate before sharing. Didion truly has accomplished being penetrable in this book.

And for all my (your, our) blustering about barriers, facades, personal space, privacy and distractions, isn’t that what we want? To find someone (or something, or work, or endeavor) that can penetrate us? Understand us?

“These fragments I have shored against my ruins.” – Didion. (Is it self-indulgent for those of us who have not been ruined, to commiserate with this sentiment?)

Monday, January 02, 2006

Sorry I Have Been MIA, But, Well, I Don't Really Care

Attached please find a brief photo-essay on why I love Colorado:








I have every intention of getting off my ass sometime in the next day or two. So expect some really exciting (and possibly a bit more text-heavy) posts soon. Or just go back to gorging on post-holiday sweets. That's probably your best bet.