Daylight!

Two finals down, one to go. Never felt like I would get here, but I'm so glad to have sociology and poli-sci over with, at least for now. After next Tuesday I have five, count 'em, five glorious weeks to sit up like a big old sow and watch tv and go to bed at seven-thirty if I wanna. I can take a nap and then stay up watching Anderson Cooper 360*, if I wanna.

This will almost certainly be the fastest five weeks in my life.

So, in addition to getting ready for finals, I spent my vacation trying to work my way through some of the backlog of magazines that I own. I found a Vanity Fair from 1996. I had an almost uninterrupted 18-month stretch of Lucky, National Geographics of various topics stretching back to the mid-90's and a "D" (as in Dallas, TX) Magazine from 1996. The article I was saving that entire magazine to read was the sum total of three pages long. I did some Googling and found out that everyone, with the exception of the author of said article, everyone mentioned in that article was dead! They are all dead and I have finally recycled a magazine that I have been carrying around like a glossy paper monkey on my back for nine years. That means I have shlepped that magazine in and out of the last three places that I've lived. Shit.

I did not, however make any headyway when it comes to my books. Their un-dogearred pages are still mocking me from the confines of their plastic tubs. I didn't read a single one the entire time I was off. Good thing is however, I managed to go into a Barnes & Noble and managed to only add four more novels to the stack. But I didn't buy anymore magazines, so that should count for something.

So, please excuse me while I read , from April 1999's issue of Vanity Fair magazine: The Gangster and the Goddess, The sensational 1958 stabbing of Lana Turner's gangster lover, Johnny Stompanato by her teenage daughter, Cheryl Crane.

Toodles.