Okay, where is the warm weather that was promised? Yes, 30 is warm, but only to jaded Rochestarians who think if it's 90, we must be in Hell.

So Megan started her own LiveJournal (why not a blog, I don't know), so I guess I don't need to update this anymore. She now has her own to keep her company. So who knows what I'll do with this. I'm really not at all interesting.

The most hystarical thing--okay, not the most, but it was very funny at the time--was Marsha and I looking at a list of "Love Songs" online. Now, besides the fact that we were trying to sing as much as we knew of each song karioke style, we also realised that a good portion of those songs were not "love songs." In fact, they were very bitter breakup songs. So yes, breakups are a part of romance, but don't put them under the label of "Love Songs" because they are not. Like "You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morrisette is NOT a love song. Not at all. It's a scary scary bitter obsessive song. But it was there, along with, inexplicably, "Bye Bye Bye" by N'Sync. Huh? What? I'm confused--not only about the love song question, but that that song is even considered a song. I consider it attempted murder to my ears.

Yes, Marsha and I were bored. This is what we do when we're two of the only people in the Holiday Inn and we're procrastinating from doing any semblence of work.

Well, I must go over to campus to pick up my InterLibrary Loan books and my mail (which should contain a letter or two from Tricia over in London, I hope--she only sent them 16 years ago).

Music: Goodnight Sweetheart by Rufus Wainwright