Do you wake up on your own, and wonder where you are?

I've been listening to the Dave Cale version of "Hallelujah" in a non-stop and totally obnoxious way for the last week or so. There's something about it ("Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken 'hallelujah'...") that gets me, even though I think it's stupid and lame when people have a "theme song" or decide that their lives are perfectly described by "Slide." These songs are popular because EVERYONE relates to them (or wishes their significant other would relate to them). "I want to wake up where you are..." Holy shit, I want to wake up next to someone, too! (Preferably someone HOT.) "I won't say anything at all..." Perfect. Hot man, no talking, just sex. My idea of a great Sunday afternoon. That and waffles.

Speaking of non sequiturs, I've been informed that blogs are "plebian." This by my elitist fuckhead boyfriend (love you, honey!) who's studying at Oxford for the semester. Apparently all they teach you is how to drink, be posh, and drink poshly (word?). "Posh" is a word I know primarily because of the Spice Girls, and I think it means "anorexic." Also, I just learned that "Ginger" is so named because in England, red hair is called "ginger." It makes me hope the Spice Girls didn't employ someone expensive to pick their stage names. They're like the Seven Dwarfs, only sluttier: just pick someone's most obvious characteristic, and that becomes their name. "Here's Dopey, Doc, Bashful, Sporty, Ginger, and Stupid-Skinny-Bitch-with-the-Soccer-Playing-Husband!" I'd be "Lusty." (TMI?)

I am supposed to be writing a paper about the development of my gender identity and sexual orientation. It's a worthwhile paper, but it's making me think too deeply about these things; I'm fundamentally fairly boring. Except that I'd probably be willing to make out with Angelina Jolie. That would be exciting, though in fairness I'd have to defer to my friend Sophie if the occasion actually arose.

And I'm spent.