I think I'll just keep Han Solo alive and snuggle inside his coat with him.

Ah, the stuff of girlhood dreams.

I can't stop thinking about those orgasmic migraines. Oh, the poor women. The article did state that some took abortive triptans prophylactically before sex, but at $20/pill and you not being able to take more than two a day--well, it certainly makes having an orgasm RIGHT NOW seem a bit more urgent. The friend I was discussing it with suggested that the sexual partner show up with the triptan, but at the very least you can get out of it by saying you've already had two migraines for the day.

Mr. Jane bought me 2 Ivins books yesterday as a surprise present. It was sweet. Then we read her thoughts on Dallas and laughed and laughed. We also drank absinthe.

I am starving. Please note that this is due to a lack of breakfast on my part, not the conversation regarding the rendering of manflesh.

I didn't have breakfast or coffee this morning. Luckily, coworkers have taken pity on me (or else they fear me from yesterday) and are making me a pot as I type.

I'm starving too. I've been reading about how to cool steel-cut oats, but that's not really helping.

Who wants a summary of my week? Parents' new puppy died unexpectedly. I had three nights of rehearsals in a row, culminating with the most frustrating three hours I've spent singing in a while. Got rear-ended (no visible damage, which is worse, because now I have to decide whether it's worth getting checked out). Spilled drink literally right down shirt yesterday. Last night, got home to find that downstairs toilet wasn't flushing, turned out to be a problem in the common sewer line which required participation of three neighbors and a 9PM visit from plumbers.

Last night, got home to find that downstairs toilet wasn't flushing

Insult to injury. Universe owes you porn.

Suddenly the office smells strongly of maple syrup. I'm so hungry I'm thinking about hunting through the cubicles to find who is responsible so I can kill them and claim their breakfast.

t cough moving on.

Composer Gian Carlo Menotti has died. The NY Times obit talks a lot about his most famous opera, "Amahl and the Night Visitors", but my favorite title has to be "Help, Help, the Globolinks".

Synopsis: "A busload of children becomes stranded when the vehicle breaks down. It is soon surrounded by unearthly globolinks, who are repulsed by musical sounds. A child goes off to get help and the children are saved by the intervention of good music."

Jeez louise, Dana, your week has Not Been Good.

Parents' new puppy died unexpectedly.

Terrible! Did they get it from a breeder?