There's a Patriots' day, and a Patriot day. Patriot Day is Monday (if you don't know why, then damn, you're good at living under that rock. Congrats...), but I'm like 'what the hell? Why are there TWO damn days with one letter and an apostrophe as the only thing that makes them different. So, apparently, we're supposed to have a moment of silence when the first plane hit, right? For me, that's easy... what with it being at 5:46 in the morning, I'm still nice and nestled in my bed. I'm not making light of the situation, mind you, but that's the truth.

My mother made me buy some magazine from my cousin, because he had those school catalog things that they shove down your throats when you're in elementary school, since little kids are friggen impossible to resist. 'Please buy our sub-par products! It will make us happy!' And then they give you those damned doe eyes before they kick you in the shins. I would have been able to resist, but the stupid harpy was like 'YOU WILL BUY SOMETHING FROM HIM!' And then she breathed her beer breath on me, so I relented. Besides, I got 57 issues of Entertainment Weekly for 22 bucks. I miss EW! Best magazine. I missed out on their fall preview issue and everything. Save that issue for me girltype, because I want to look at it!

Dad and I are trying to come up with a contingency plan to flee from football tomorrow. He wants to go over to the Cisco and play at some jazz club. This information annoys me. Mostly because it's San Francisco, and that place scares me as well it should. Odds are we'll just end up being stuck here. Or at least I will. He'll go and run away, leaving poor innocent little me to suffer and wallow in the pain of hearing my mother scream 'GO BABY, GO!!!!' Earplugs and a surround sound system are my friend. As is BoA. Precious BoA.