if you weren't real i'd make you up

my silly computer still won't turn on so i'm using a super slow surrogate. i also think i just alliterated. swell.
after a considerably long day filled with everything but food, mutti and i had dinner at uno's. there was a hottie musician playing cover songs from the eagles to britney spears and he managed to get hotel california stuck in my head. all i want to do now is jam out to everything and anything and i can't because my computer has decided to hibernate for the past 2 weeks. i know i could turn on the radio, or dig up my cd player, but it's not the same. maybe i should crawl out of my media-challenged cave and get an ipod-esque electronic thing. actually, my cell phone moonlights as an mp3 player, but the secret of how is something i have yet to figure out. effing technology. i'm supposed to be saving dollars for a new camera anyway, the music bit can wait. after all, you can't scrap songs and i have made a semi-promise to my scrapnerd sister to be scraptasticly scissor-happy with her at some point this summer. damn i dig the letter S. i never realized how much until right about now.
i've been reading straight talking off and on for the past few months and i am almost done. i really don't want to be done though. once i finish, i have to find another book that interests me enough to read cover to cover and that can be quite the task. what i need to do is start reading more non-fiction books that will tell me something of higher value that i can maybe use while watching jeopardy or something, instead of books with cheetah-print covers about socialites and shopping sprees. i wonder if plum sykes has come out with a sequel to bergdorf blondes... and i will say, even at the risk of sounding like an airhead, that that book was seriously life-changing. british authors create the raddest of the rad socialite novels, no doubt.