Meg‘s doing this new thing where she asks questions and has people answer them in the comments. As imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, let’s give it a go, shall we? Okay, what was your last dream? I’ll go first…

Cholesterol makes you smarter. That is literally the greatest news EVER. Suddenly I’m craving a cheeseburger.

So Prince Charles got slapped in the face with a flower today, right? What kind of a crappy protest was that? You wanna make an impression, you gotta throw a pie. The hilarious part of Chuck’s tale is that apparently the President of Latvia called him up later to apologize for the girl’s actions and to say that she was obviously “mentally unstable”. (They actually said that on the News tonight.) That cracked me up.

Finally, somebody else noticed the Taliban/Taleban issue that I mentioned back in September. The BBC expert explains why there are different spellings, but he doesn’t really clear up the issue of why Americans use “i” and Brits use “e”. I am unsatisfied.

Hey, a guy at my university got second place on College Jeopardy. Cool. Unfortunately, in case you’re wondering, my appearance on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? didn’t really pan out. They haven’t called. Damn you, Chris Tarrant! I was all set to kick Ladies Week ass.

Damn it! Why do I only discover bands after they break up? Lately I’ve had a major Catatonia fixation, specifically their song “Road Rage”. For you Yanks, they’re an awesome Welsh band that apprently broke up in September. Crap. Check out this description of the lead singer Cerys: “A lady singer whose voice sounds exactly like Shirley Bassey puking five pints of Jack Daniel’s (with snakebite chasers) into the Grand Canyon through a megaphone during an earthquake.” Isn’t that fantastic? I’ve been bellowing out “Road Rage” all afternoon, but unfortunately I sound nothing like her. I pretend though.

I packed a box today! And I did some other travel related chores! And the dishes! That means I’ve been a very good girl, and that means I can blog. 🙂

Yeah, it’s been hard. I hate looking at my site and seeing only one tiny post per day. I know I’m addicted but it’s difficult to stop. I took that Blogaholic Quiz and I got 68 out of 100. That’s a lot. Some of them were pretty embarrassing admissions too. Like the question about starting flame wars? Been there, done that. And the one about dreaming about blogging? Try dreaming about bloggers. I swear to God I dreamt last night that I was at a party at Max‘s house. Isn’t that weird? I think my subconscious was dwelling on today’s Survivor picks and anticipating my ultimate victory celebration. Yeah, I have issues. Anyhoo, it’s nice to have some guilt-free blog time before me.

A rare culinary success!
Remember my ill-fated foray into the world of homemade pizza? I’m happy to report that tonight’s experiment – homemade chicken pot pie – landed firmly on the other side of the Delicious-Meter. It was fantastic! Never underestimate what you can do with pre-made pastry. It’s a godsend.

So yeah, I haven’t been posting much lately. And yeah, I promised I wouldn’t until I tackled the packing problem. Put those two concepts together and you’re left with the conclusion that… I’ve done nothing. Well, not nothing. I made out a very detailed To Do list. That’s almost like being productive, right? At least my chicken pot pie kept the day from being a total washout. How can I stop procrastinating? Somebody, anybody, kick me in the ass!

Oh no. Oh nonononono. I forgot to remind my parents to tape the Buffy musical last night! ARRRRGGGGHHHH! Did anybody tape it? I’m desperate!

Okay, I’ve been keeping it hush-hush til now but I can remain silent no longer…

We’re leaving London two weeks from today!

And while I’m mentally ready, I’m soooo physically not. That’s why I’m taking the hard step of of saying: “I will not blog until all my chores are done for the day.” So I’m gonna go now. I’ve got laundry to do and boxes to pack. Don’t worry; I’ll still be posting. But I’m such a procrastinator that I need to set myself some ground rules or we’ll never be ready to go. Wish me luck, kids.