(no subject)

The drawback to having a week off work: it totally screws with my sleep schedule. I think I've managed bed before 4 am exactly once since Tuesday night. At least I got up in time today to get to the bank and fill out all the forms to turn over to the bank security folks so they can get me my money back. (Did I mention that the surly wench on the phone on the 26th didn't even tell me what it was I was really supposed to do, and if I hadn't followed up "just in case" today I might never have stood a chance of recovering that money?) Ah well, I have some time before next Thursday to get myself back to bed at a more reasonable hour.

(no subject)

Today is Pungenday, day 71 in the season of The Aftermath, 3268.

Today's horrifying musical exchange (and it's not even my music this time!):

• C. puts a new CD on, by someone called DJ Sammy, and bleepy dance track commences
  
• GC catches lyrics: "Oh - thinkin' about all our younger years/There was only you and me/We were young and wild and free"
  
• GC: "Uhhh...they're not really covering Canadian rocker Bryan Adams, are they?"
  
• C: Yes indeed.
  
• GC: *twitch*
  
• C. skips a track or two, yet more bleepy dance music, good beat, I can dance to it, I give it a 7 -- until the vocals kick in: "Nobody on the road/Nobody on the beach/I feel it in the air/The summer's out of reach/Empty lake, empty streets/The sun goes down alone/I'm drivin' by your house/Though I know you're not home"
  
• GC: "Jesus Christ. It's like 'Don Henley meets 'A Night at the Roxbury''"