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Tonight, I sing to you of chicory coffee.

It is the most exquisite substance ever placed on this earth by the gods to tempt mortals into staying up for three days straight and committing truly impressive sins due to sleep deprivation and caffeine poisoning.

If you are a coffee fan, try it. Your tastebuds will never stop thanking you.

If you are not, become one, that you too might partake of this nectar. I mean, it's already got me writing shit like this and I'm barely into my first cup. (At five at night. Evening-before-day-off is just as good as the day if you do it right.)

Look in the "exotic foods"-type aisle in your grocery store, or go here. Really scour the grocery store, though, because it's a damn sight cheaper there.

(no subject)

I've been using the Huckabees soundtrack to wake myself up in the morning for, like, a month and a half now. To the point where I can time my morning routine by what song is on. I no longer need the clock.

And I still love it. Every other CD I've used, I eventually become conditioned to cringe at the opening chords, but I still love every note of this CD.

Is February twenty-second here yet? I need the DVD now.

Oh. Speaking of dates to look forward to, my birthday is next - no, wait, yikes, my birthday is this Sunday. I've spent the last couple of weeks remembering that I have a birthday soon and being surprised. I am turning twenty-two *ohmygod I'm turning twenty-two*, and have outgrown the counting-the-days excitement, but only just. So I still feel as though it should be important enough to be counting the days, hence the surprise each time I realize how much closer it is and I'm barely noticing.

I have just now in the process of typing this entry realized that birthday means turning older, and twenty-two is older than I personally feel ready to be. Those of you who are older than me can STOP LAUGHING NOW, because I don't mean it like that. It's the same kind of weirdness I felt when I turned seventeen, and then twenty. Like, "Wait, when did this happen? Don't I get a vote?" It's not as bad as my twentieth birthday, though. I was still in high school then, so I pretty much decided that twenty was entirely too old and I would not be turning it until I was good and ready, thsankyouverymuch. This is an approach I strongly advise, so long as you are willing to turn the proper age next year and not just pretend you are a year younger.

Anyway. Twenty-two. Weird. If you need me, I'll be in the corner with my chicory coffee, reminding myself that time is an arbitrary construct and age a meaningless conceit at best. Oh, and I promise not to become that woman who bitches about getting older every year. I'm not bitchy or annoyed. Just surprised.

(no subject)

On the other hand, my birthday will mark a month since Varitek re-signed. Which, YAY.

Ironically, this post knocked that post off the Recent Entries page. Heh.