Unemployment gives one a chance to indulge in long sought-after aspirations that one previously couldn't get to. Mine is to watch as many movies as possible.

Tonight's two were The Others and Spiderman.

But before I managed to hit this new height in mediocrity, the Ritchie and I made beautiful music together, like we hadn't done since we lived with each other. I'm not talking about sex, you gutter-minded fool, I'm talking about me playing my Gibson guitar like it was an $8 piece of tin, and Ritchie banging on the drumset worse than 10 Meg Whites could ever do. I did this because I'm irritated with the apparent subwoofed surround sound system my new upstairs neighbor has. The walls vibrate to either a rhythmic hip-hop beat (he looks like a suburban white boy trying to keep it real, yo), or a thundering hum when he plays what seems to be a car racing game.

But no one likes an asshole neighbor who asks "Could you turn that down," not even once. I know this without any doubt. You see, another aspiration I'm meeting with due diligence is consuming daytime TV in all its channel-flipping abundance. And let me tell you, I've watched enough Judge Judy to know that when it comes to neighbors getting into fights with each other, it's usually because one started asking "Could you turn that down" one too many goddamn times. Yeah, so, instead of being a farty old lady who can't stand that racket, I've decided to indicate good-naturedly that "I can do it, too, bro."

OTHER NEWS

In other news, I'd really like to know where the hell my punctuation rolled off to. My menstrual cycle has a set of training wheels and wobbles irregularly to the tune of about 45 days, with a complete and total skip every 4th run. And if that's not bad enough, it sometimes elects to make the slightest of appearances, but last for 3 weeks. Yeah, my uterus is a fucking train wreck, let me tell you. I don't even know why. I mean, it's not like I've had any surgeries, maladies, or afflictions down there. The pipes are in working order and get a good jolly rogering from time to time. So why must everyone else get a normal 28 days, while I have to suffer through a menstrual epicycle? I'm a Cancer! Were supposed to be ruled by the Moon! What gives?