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2005-09-27 - 12:29 p.m.

Saturday I went into the city and protested my little heart out. Aside from the anarchists and the communists, it was really great. There was the fabulous octegenarian couple--he was playing his clarinet and she was dancing along. He started playing "Down by the Riverside" and a bunch of us started singing along. It felt like I was in the 60s. Afterwards, I went home and called my parents. "I'm proud of you," my mom said, preceeded by "Did they beat you with rubber hoses?" I love my mom! I told them some of the better signs, reprinted below for your delectation.

Sunday I went to the store and bought $100 worth of food, and then came home and collapsed. I skipped my music classes and wound up staying home yesterday as well. Today I'm back at work, but still in this funky malaise. It's as though all the emotional ennui I was feeling last week has spread itself out to my body. Oh frabjous day, caloo, calay! I roused myself from bed at about 1:30 (post meridiem, yes) and watched some crappy TV while speeding through an old Janet Evanovich, and finally dragged my ass to the kitchen to whip up some pumpkin apple bread. After said whipping, I dragged my ass back to the couch, too exhausted to clean up the kitchen, and popped in one of my all-time favorites, "So I Married an Ax Murderer." Rick watched with me, and during the wedding reception scene, when the piper went down, he remarked wistfully "I wish we had had pipes at our wedding." I was immediately stricken with guilt. How had I not known he wanted pipes? What a bad, self-indulgent bride I had been. "You should have told me!" I lamented. "We could have had pipes!" "Well, I didn't really know I wanted them until just now," he said. We agreed that should we ever renew our vows, we would have pipes at our wedding.

Great Signs I Saw at the 9/24 Protest

Blow Jobs are Better Than No Jobs
Stop the Hee-Haw Jihad
How Many Soldiers a Gallon Does Your SUV Get?
Bush Made Me Ashamed To Be A Republican
Overcaffeinated Grammarian Librarians for Peace
The Only Bush I Trust Is My Own
Hugo Chavez for President (Ed. Note: WTF?)
BUSH: Fake Cowboy, Fake Pilot, Fake President
Satan Loves Ya, Bush!
The National Guard is In the Wrong Gulf!
Make Levees Not War
The Rapture is Not an Exit Strategy
Pro-Life Means All Life

Also, I forgot the most important part of this entry. Last night before heading up to bed I took a Benadryl. I read for about an hour, then lazed about on the bed trying to turn the light off by telekinesis, which did not work. But while I was attempting to use a pillow to block the light from my eyes, I saw my husband's pillow breathing. I shit you not, I could see that pillow rise and fall in the gentle rhthym that signifies the breath of life. That freaked me out so damn much I got up to turn off the lights. If that's what I see on Benadryl then boy howdy am I glad I never dropped acid.


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Die Entfuehrung
Die Entfuehrung aus dem Serail (The Abduction From
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