I'm sorry, but screw my petty crap. What the hell is going on in NOLA?

I did a mental inventory of family, friends, and readers I know and no one—I hope—is currently in New Orleans. Except for one relative in Monroe (four hours north), but I think she's safe.

My thoughts go out to everyone in the path of the storm. Keep safe, y'all.

Actually, something like this would be a reason for me to stay up all night and keep track of the unfolding events.

But I need to get to bed at a semi-reasonable hour.

I got a job last week. And start Monday.

Wasn't looking for one, didn't apply for one, got offered one. It's part time—because frankly my own business workload can't handle a full time job. I'd go insane.

And I've been sort of mum about it because it just still seems too good to be true, frankly.

And things that seem too good to be true never are. But everything about it just seems good.

Further updates as events warrant.

I went to the wedding of a high school friend tonight. Had a great time, which included seeing two other high school friends I hadn't seen in over ten years. Which was great because there is nothing worse than showing up at a wedding alone and knowing no one really except for the bride (she's usually busy).

One of the guys reminded me of a photo I have that I took on the last day of school in my junior year. I promised to send it to him. I believe the statute of limitations relating to said photo should have expired by now.

Maybe I should check on that.

The VMA's are tomorrow. I think I'll make a sincere and concerted effort not to watch. It'll be hard, especially since I enjoy seeing who hasn't quite mastered the art of lip-synching. But I have to be strong.

MTV sucks. As much as they try to pretend they're not a corporate shill... they're just a corporate shill. The last thing that network cares about is music.

I realize that it's all about the cash. And I actually have no problem with that. Just step up and admit it. There's nothing more pathetic than claiming indie cred and counterculture ideals while consistently and clearly selling out whenever and wherever possible.

I suppose today is not the day to rail against the talentless hacks involved in the popular music industry these days.

Because that rant would be far too lengthy.

And I am far too grumpy.

Speaking of music, however, I finally found Tim Easton's Break Your Mother's Heart. It was, as suspected, somewhere in my car. Under the passenger side seat, actually. A little worse for wear, but I tested it and there was nary a skip.

In other news: just saw an ad for Fargo, which is on our local PBS station tonight. I swear we don't talk like that.

One of the clips they showed featured the two hookers talking to Frances McDormand's character about going to high school in White Bear Lake. Which is where I am going today for a wedding.

That actually has no relevant information, but I thought it was funny.

I might as well throw in what will likely be my last Summer season past rant posting:

RANDOM STORY: The Coen brothers (Fargo) found a house they thought was perfect for exterior shots of the home of the sheriff (Frances McDormand) in Fargo located about a block away from my home when I was growing up. But it was summer and there was no snow. So to shoot it, they put fake snow everywhere. Took six months to dissipate.

They never used the footage, actually. And the only reason we knew what was going on was because my mom and I were heading out for a walk only to find the entire block closed off and huge spotlights everywhere. I think we actually found the home owner standing around and asked him what was going on.

Oh, and the used car lot they filmed in has been lost to the ages and Best Buy's new headquarters.

I woke up a few minutes ago (at 5 AM) to the sound of an intense rain on my window and thunder (with a bit of lightning mixed in just for fun).

When I was a little little girl I was always afraid of big storms. I don't think it helped that with big storms around here came tornado sirens and trips to the basement to wait it out.

So my mom would always explain to me how to see where the storm was (the old thunder to lightning distance trick) and that would always help, since it took my mind off the perceived scariness of the situation a bit.

She also explained to me that thunderstorms never lasted more than 20 minutes.

It wasn't until years later that I remembered her telling me this and realized it was pure fabrication.

When I got a bit older I learned to like storms. I'd often go out in them just to jump in puddles. There's nothing more fun than running outside in the middle of a storm and getting soaked to the bone and just not caring.

Sneezers. Complete sneezers.

I hate allergies.

I have my cable set to record any Homicide episode that airs. These days they only air crossover episodes with Law and Order.

And one was on tonight.

With JK Simmons as a Neo-Nazi.

What's Tom Fontana up to these days anyway? I miss The Jury.