We got spaghetti. And blankets.

Pipe down, Internet, your Auntie Jessy's hung.

Little girls on a sunny Easter Sunday in their big poofy spring dresses, spinning across a grassy lawn.
Girls in their mid20s with professional jobs, twirling around a dance floor.
Same thing, really. At least when it comes to me 'n' Melissa.

Oh, and Local Library I Don't Work At? Please refrain from packaging comedy CD/DVD dealies like 2 CD audiobooks. It confused me as I was driving into work.
This would be after I yelled, "I JUST DON'T CARE ANYMORE!" to Scott Simon when he started in on Opal Mehta. In the car. With the windows down.
And, yes, I know that the author's name is not Opal Mehta. I don't care. I can call her that, or I can call her Stupid Plagiarizy Harvard Girl I Don't Care About Anymore. You make the call.

I bought the Summer 06 Knit1 yesterday. I'd do a review-type-thing, but

1. I forgot it;
   
2. isn't that what we pay the lovelies at You Knit What?? for?
   
3. Plus, my upcoming Craftster swap is like a secret santa type deal, and I don't want to run the risk of spoiling the surprise.

I also went to the comic store.
Now, Free Comic Book Day comes every year. This is my second year getting comics from this particular shop for it, and I know that they were our supplier before I came on the scene. I gave them a month's notice. I discussed it with comicstore employees in person and sent an email.
So why, when I stop by the store yesterday, was there not a box of free comic goodness ready for the library?
To complicate matters further, I had personal stuff to pick up, too.
(flashback)
Because I'm an exceptionally nice person, when Tiff came to visit the last time and we went to the comicstore (actually, when I spoke to the people about free comic goodness), I let her buy the only copy of Strangetown #1. Of course, I read it before she did, but that's not the point.
So I arrange to have a copy ordered for me, and a copy of each subsequent Strangetown held. I discussed this with the employee, and mentioned it in the email.
Then, when I sent the email, I remembered the Belle and Sebastian anthology and asked for that, too.
So, theoretically, I run into the comic store. I look around real quick, I pick up my stuff, I head to Panera for a tasty snack*.
NO. I've mentioned the putting freecomicgoodness box together already. Strangetown #1 is under my last name. Belle and Sebastian, after an "I need this book; it's blue"-esque conversation, turns up in the hold drawer, not under my name. With no name actually on it.
Apparently, the owner is the only person who deals with emails. And he wasn't there.
I miss you, Phantom of the Attic. You too, Atomic City Comics. But I suspect I miss your proximity to pizza more than you yourself.
And now everyone knows why the comics I bought 2002-03 have greasy marks on them.
And I still don't see what's so great about She-Hulk, despite what Wacky Neighbor Billy might say.

Man, I hate when hungover-icky merges with period-icky, on a work weekend.

*iced chai latte and an everything bagel with veggie cream cheese--YUM. And even better combined with free Scott Pilgrim goodness.