What? Me worry!

As you can see by the terror alert at right, NYC is now in a full blown Oompa Loompa Alert. Head for the hills, there's trouble a-comin'.

Or not.

As usual, this will probably turn out to be nothing. I'm sure when the next big one comes, no one will see it coming.

Anyway, major anti-social weekend. Invited to go out Friday and Saturday nights. Didn't. Stayed at home. Cleaned a little. Took remarkably long walks. Watched TV.

The high point of the week was to be my first Shambhala meditation class (I wanna be like Zenchick . . . only taller . . . and male). So I waddled over to the class only to find that the Shambhala Center was infested with monks. All (non-member) classes had been cancelled for the day. I presume it was so they could fumigate. As you know, for every monk you see, there are at least ten that you don't.

While I do wish that I could have taken my class, I'm not too upset. The monks were there to make sand mandalas, which I guess is more important than my spiritual enlightenment.

I kid. I'll go next week. No big deal.

Sunday night, instead of watching Six Feet Under, The 4400 and Dead Like Me (who the fuck decided to put all of these on the same freaking night?), I started reading Marc Acito's soon-to-be-published book How I Paid For College: A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship & Musical Theater.

This book rocked. I stayed up until 1 a.m. reading it.

But I can't review it just yet. Mostly because I still owe a certain Famous Author a review of his latest novel, which is fantastic, by the way.

Anyway, that's all I got.