"Oh, my ovaries!"

Welcome to Crampville, population me. Yeah, enough about that.

So I now officially have a cold. Bummer. And once again, modern medicine has failed to relieve my symptoms. There is no combination of Tylenol Cold, Nyquil and Dayquil that can make me feel even vaguely human or useful.

Saturday, I got my W-2 from my old job... I'm scared to file taxes. Well, not so much that, but I'm afraid I'll mess up terribly and end up owing the IRS a trillion dollars. I'd like to blame my bad math skills on the sexist American public school system, but really, I'm just lazy. I never saw the point of learning to do long division manually when you can use a calculator. Also, there's too many rules involving numbers. I only like rules and laws when you can make them mean different things; two plus two is always four, and that just sucks.

While watching "The OC" on Thursday, I attempted to make a yummy drink from my bartending book called 'Bee Stung Lips.' It sounded good - honey, rum and cream - and it probably is good if it's made right. I must not have, and it was not fun times. I couldn't even decide what was wrong with it - too much honey or too much rum or too much cream. Boo.

So yeah, I guess Marissa and Alex (a girl-Alex) on "The OC" are going to kiss. Apparently some people are upset about this, but I don't see the point. It has to be at least more interesting than the Roseanne/Whichever-Hemingway kiss that happened super years ago. I don't know about anyone else, but my family has watched enough portrayals of gay sex on HBO shows to not be embarrassed about seeing anything as banal as two high school girls smooching. Thanks, "Six Feet Under", for arranging for my parents and I to watch a dude get a blowjob. No, really.

Now that I think about it, I can't wait for SFU to start up again. With the lack of fist-fighting on "The OC", I'm so not meeting my recommended daily allowance of melodrama.