"You've got a bunch of empiricists trying to describe things of unimaginable wonder."

So, clearly the problem we're now faced with is this: When one neglects to post the details of her personal life to her accustomed weblog for periods of over two weeks, shit starts to pile up. I have so much to tell you, Internet, but perhaps it is a good thing that there is too much going on for me to divulge all the details of my life to you, a relative stranger.

Let's cover the basics (emergency room antics, looking hot, good reading, work-related items) an then we can get down to the knitting at another time.

ER
I was wishing at midnight on Monday (Tuesday?) that I had ever watched a complete episode of ER when I was a regular TV-watcher. I assumed that if I had that kind of experience under my belt, I would understand why my very bleeding boyfriend still had not been seen by a doctor or even given sufficient bandaging to stop the impressive blood flow from his face after dutifully whiling away 4 hours in the waiting room.

Eli "took a digger," which is mountain biker for "flew over the handlebars of his bike after hitting a rock at an unsafe speed and broke his own fall by quickly planting his face into the mountain." Two broken teeth, a sprinkling of lacerations, abrasions and bruises adorning his extremities, and a fantastic open wound on his chin (later sewn back together by our drug-addled ER resident (who said of the chinwound, "You didn't cut your chin, you smashed it.")) later, I met him at the local hospital with snacks, clothes, a laptop, and Capote (thank you, Netflix). I would post pictures, but 1) they would be gross and 2) I don't think I have permission to plaster my love's crushed face all over the intertron.

The movie was kind of a downer (though Philip Seymour Hoffman is pure genius in his role, and I don't say things like that), we spent a total of 7 hours waiting for E to get fixed, and he's feeling much better now, thank you. (Though his face bears considerably more "character" than it used to - he looks like a strange mix of adorable 7 year old and grizzled murderer.) There will be an exciting double-root-canal-tooth-capping-adventure come Saturday.

Looking Hot
(or the visually stimulating portion of tonight's post)

Let me begin by saying that I recently got the best haircut of my life (which is not saying a whole lot, if you've seen my "hairstyles" over the years), and it's got me a little overconfident about and a little overinterested in how hot I am. That's where this portion of the post comes from. I know it's wrong; I feel the shame. But it's not the kind of shame that would prevent me from posting a photo of my new head with the face spraypainted out.

Phantom of the Opera

Victoria's Secret: WTF? I mean, clothing worn on the outside has never been their strong point, but the latest "Fall Preview" catalogue has even me gagging. Because even I, who have not the slightest sense of fashion, I who got the first decent haircut of my life at the tender age of 22 (see above), even I can recognize that the crap they're shilling in this catalogue was of questionable and fading popularity last summer, when the Olsen twins beat the homeless layering thing to a bloody pulp before being whisked away to the farm to be intubated!
And the track suit? Doable for a minute, in 2002; not the 2006 staple of the modern woman's autumn wardrobe. Unfortunately (for you), the VS catalogue was the only thing I could read while I balanced a bowl of rice and a beer on my lap while simultaneously trying not to fall out of my hammock, so I must vent my frustration:

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C
(what are they doing to this woman?)

Exhibit D
(In which the outfit only looks remotely
passable because the woman wearing it
is so freaking skinny. Oh my God, I'm
starting to sound like Lindsay Lohan in
Mean Girls. What if I'm turning into a bad
person?? I'll end the caption here and take
a break to think about what I've done.)

In other vapid, unimportant news, I got a new suit jacket and some new shoes and a new shirt:

These shoes look like they're ugly, but they're
actually just right.

This shirt, too, has that kind of
"Meh it's kind of ug- wait it's amazing and
I must have it" quality. It's silk and weirdly
cut and beautiful. I love it.

*** I'm not nearly such a bad person as this part of the post would have you believe.

Good Reading

I have no idea how I got to this, but I did, and it was good: Thagomizer on Wikipedia

And for this I have The Onion to thank, or really just whomever decided to place a bunch of ads on The Onion's website, but:

Since You Asked is my new favorite thing. It's an advice column that features intelligent, well-written letters of desperation from various members of the bourgeoise and thoughtful, wise answers from a man I assume is a psychologist, though I really have no idea.

Work
This post has taken so much time from my life already that I can't even finish it tonight. Which is kind of insane, given that this blog is supposed to be about my journey to teacherdom. But who am I to mess with the universe?

Next post will be about work and knitting.

A Parting Gift
I can't believe you read this far. Here's a reward:

Shannon Doherty's Top 8 Ways of Breaking Up with Somebody