So there’s this site, Crush Calculator. Go there, give it your name and the names of three people you crush on. Click enter, and then discover that your results are not exactly what one would call private. Naughty, naughty trick.

It’s going to be a long, long week waiting for the next episode of Lost.

I haven’t gotten anything done all evening because I’ve been stuck fixating on sweets. The Stern Taskmaster Within has been in constant battle with the Wibbling Infant Within, tied up in an unceasing refrain of “No, you can’t have any chocolate and peanut butter. No, you can’t have any chocolate and nuts. No, you can’t have any plain chocolate. No, no ice cream either, or pudding or mousse or cookies. No, you can’t eat peanut butter straight out of the jar. No snack cakes, sorry. Or donuts.”

And yet the whimpering continues, unabated and unassuageable. This has tied up all my circuits, leaving me having lost several hours to unproductivity and unpleasantness.

The crazy thing is, it’s not even like I’m depriving myself. Last night I had peanut butter mixed with instant hot-chocolate mix (laugh if you will, but it’s fantastic). Sunday I had some ginger snaps and a bag of the new Hershey’s Kissables (M&M’s rip-offs that aren’t as good as Smarties but are way better than M&M’s). Saturday I had some of those peanut-and-chocolate cluster thingies. I think I’ve already well exceeded the limits of moderation for the week, but my Inner Whinger disagrees heartily.

Grr.

You tell your colleagues–adults all, well beyond the age of majority–that the webcasting software they’ll be using will support at best only limited browser-based content and no streaming video at all, and what do they incorporate into their presentations?

Le sigh.

Brain’s kind of a jumble, not aided by the fact that I have a very juicy topic I want to write about but which will require basically a minor treatise to develop even minimally.

But! I’m feeling a blogging jones. Somebody throw out some potential short-form topics to get me old juices flowing.

Please?

I should be a slacker and take three weeks off from the gym more often. Just got back from what is easily the best workout of my life and my brain is awash in what feels like a six-month supply of endorphins.

I’d heard about the post-workout afterglow, but I had no idea it was this nice. Mmmm.

And it’s all because of TiVo’s brill decision to start streaming Live365 Internet radio.

Today, you see, is (greatest living American musical theater genius) Stephen Sondheim’s birthday, and in honor of this glorious occassion the Broadway Variety station is doing 24 hours of all Sondheim, all the time.

Mmmmmm.

…that my eyes are quite satisfactory indeed. Sparkly, even.

Alas, she’s a girl. Ain’t it always the way?

Must get many important and difficult things done later this week, so today was supposed to be unabashed, unadulterated, purely hedonistic me-time. There were several things I’d planned on doing, and not a single one of them involved staying in the house.

So of course since I woke it’s been grey and gloomy and pouring down rain, and has just been getting greyer and gloomier and pouring-down-rainier.

Grumph.

Had to go to the Student Health Center yesterday to get a new scrip written out–apparently scrips expire after a year even if they were intended to cover 16 months. Who knew?

Anyway, during the consultation the doc was going through a routine set of questions. He seemed to be doing them from memory, so there was no clear progression. There would be a personal question followed by a “when was your last visit?” type question followed by a bedside-manner type query. That sort of thing.

So at one point he asks, “And who’s following you?”

I was gobsmacked, since Prozac isn’t exactly a no-heavy-equipment med. “Um, I drove myself?”

And he gave me the most peculiar look, his studiedly placid countenance and measured tone not quite concealing his exasperation. “No, I mean what doctor have you consulted here in the past?”

So, now, I don’t have a lot of experience dealing with clinicians. Is “who is following you” commonly known to mean “who’s your doctor”, or was this doc being unfair in his expectations?