Everyday Goddess

Buffy Season Eight: Killing Me with the Variant Comic Book Covers

OK, I have no idea how it is if you buy your comic books from a bricks and mortar comic store. I could never keep track of or deal with that, so I buy my comics online from Things from Another World.

Now, every issue of Buffy Season Eight has a regular cover and then every four books are printed with a variant cover.

So. If you want to guarantee that you receive the variant cover, you have to order four copies of every book. This is absurd, and luckily, I prefer the regular artwork anyway. It's absolutely stunning.

But. If you want to guarantee that you receive the regular cover, you have to order two copies. Otherwise, you risk receiving the variant cover on your one issue, thereby not having a complete and beautiful set of the regular covers.

At first, I would just order my one and cross my fingers. But then, if the variant cover arrived, I had to reorder - and then I still had to reorder two to make sure I got what I wanted. So now I order two copies.

Except somehow I accidentally ordered three of an upcoming issue, and it seems too late to cancel one, at least, not without calling about it. Who wants to bet I don't even get the variant on that one?

Oh, and the one time I really, really liked the variant? Of course, didn't get it. I might have ordered four to get this one, but I didn't see it in time:

What's beyond annoying is that now what I have is:

• One complete set of the normal covers.
• Many, many doubles of the normal covers, but not another complete set.
• An incomplete set of the alternative covers.

That last one would have me stark raving mad if I stopped to think about it.

It's not the cost; comics books are under $3. But the annoyance, and hello, the paper involved in these equations??? The fact that people are ordering four copies every issue to get those variant covers just seems like such a paper suck.

I guess what most annoys me, though, is that I have to order extra copies just to ensure that I receive a complete set of the normal covers. I don't want any of these extra copies! The whole system is the suck.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to read Wolves at the Gate Part 3 (#14) before I go to bed. Gee, which of my matching copies should I crack?

(I am happy about my free Hellboy I got for Free Comic Book Day.)

Two Country Songs That Make Me Stabby with the Gender Stereotypes.

This post is cross-posted at BlogHer.

I love country music. Shout it from the rooftops!  Yeehaw!

What I don't love about country music, however, is songs that rely on gender stereotypes. That BS makes me stabby.

Right now there's two songs I've been hearing on the local country station that make me want to stick a hot poker into my temple. The first is "I'm Still a Guy" by Brad Paisley.

When you see a deer you see Bambi
And I see antlers up on the wall
When you see a lake you think picnic
And I see a large mouth up under that log
You're probably thinking that you're going to change me
In some ways well maybe you might
Scrub me down, dress me up but no matter what
I'm still a guy

When you see a priceless French painting
I see a drunk, naked girl
You think that riding a wild bull sounds crazy
And I'd like to give it a whirl
Well love makes a man do some things he ain't proud of
And in a weak moment I might walk your sissy dog, hold your purse at the mall
But remember, I'm still a guy

I've actually never left the song on past the first verse, so I was even more annoyed to find that the song goes after metrosexuals in the second half.

And is it me, or do you, too, hear "Remember, I'm still a guy" and think: Or, I could just dump your sorry ass and go date a real man who isn't afraid of enjoying art and using a little moisturizer. Seriously, I don't need to remember anything; I just need to not date you.

Here's the worst part:

But when you say a backrub means only a backrub
Then you swat my hand when I try
Well, what can I say at the end of the day
Honey, I'm still a guy

Blech.

There's another Brad Paisley song I'm not fond of, "Little Moments." It's mostly sweet, I guess. It just creeps me out that the first time I heard it I thought he was singing about his daughter for the first part of the song:

Well I'll never forget the first time that I heard
That pretty mouth say that dirty word
And I can't even remember now what she backed my truck into
But she covered her mouth and her face got red
And she just looked so darn cute
That I couldn't even act like I was mad
Yeah I live for little moments like that

Turns out, he's actually singing about his wife. You know, the little woman. Talk about an example of "cute" used as a diminutive! (BlogHers got into a discussion of the word "cute" in the comments on my post Will My Boyfriend Still Love Me If I Dress Like An "Urbane Tomboy"???)

The second new song that gets me stabby is "Things That Never Cross a Man's Mind" by Kellie Pickler. 'Cause you know how men and women are SO DIFFERENT. And it's JUST SO FUNNY.

Lets turn off the TV
Now can't we just talk
Lets lay here and cuddle
Till we both drift off
If we don't make love
That'll be just fine
Things that never cross a man's mind

That joke is too dirty
This steak is too thick
Ain't no way in the world I'll ever finish it
That car is too fast
This beer is too cold
And watching all this football is sure getting old

Blechity, blech, blech, blech. (*Love* her voice though!) Makes me want to go have a nice big 'ol steak and a Guinness for dinner in front of Hunky Actor Boyfriend's TV. Because, people, it is JUST SO BIG. And we both like to cuddle in front of it.

There's so very many country songs I just love - but when these come on I can't get to that station changer fast enough! Any relationship songs driving you crazy lately?

~

The blogosphere speaks:

I'm a Little Bit Country... - from In Her Shoes, first she loved him, and then she love country music.

I Love... - from Donnabetes, a meme of what you love and it can't include the people in your life (but it can include country music!)

A love/hate relationship - with country music, from Maundering Pondering. Many great music recommendations in the comments.

Brain Lock: It's hard to blog when I'm slammed.

Well, duh. Of course.

But what I mean is that my brain is fried, my room is a mess, and holy crap, could somebody please wash my underwear? Everybody who's so totally going to have to run out to buy underwear on their lunch break so that they don't have to do laundry please raise their hand.

There is not enough underwear in the world for my life. That's going to be my weird thing my assistant talks about when I'm rich and famous - drawers and drawers of underwear. There's always *something* to wear if your underwear's clean.

OK, there's a chance I may be home Thursday night before the weekend when I must have clean underwear and I will be unable to do any wash... But I've found that having one free night in a week does not really leave one with the energy required to lug a laundry basket outside and downstairs in the cold and the dark. Double shifts are a bitch, my friends no matter how great what you're doing after work is.

My brain just gets locked up. I have all these blog posts in my head, and I just can't do it. I've realized that I need to have more free time to be able to write effectively and without pain and cotton in my head, but it's just not going to happen until... Um...  May?

Oy vey.

It's not too much, I'm just definitely at full capacity till then, and I just get frustrated when there's things I want to blog and I don't get to it. I will, I'm just beat and stressed out about my week, even as I got three big things done today:  ABC/DGA application, business taxes and a BlogHer post about how Jon Stewart's got me thinking about make-up sex. Ha! I amuse myself.

The answer in this moment is always to go to bed; tomorrow is indeed another day, and sleep is the key to productivity when you can afford it.

Or, I could go watch "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles." Clearly, Better Than Sleep.

So NoBloPoMo be over, yo.

Can you tell?

Guess I'm putting this under "rantings & whinings," although I'd have to add "ramblings" to be accurate.  I've had a million ideas for focused blog posts in the last few days - none of which are this post.

Got the Christmas tree up with my roommate last night; that was cool. She wanted to flock it a bit, and we got a Douglas.  Two new things for me, and I'm really happy with both.  I was having a difficult time getting Christmasy, but as usual, the tree saves the spirit day!

Tonight I'm making Challah for my bosses for Hanukkah, and I find that I'm actually a little nervous about giving it to them.  It's dark on top - damn my crap apartment oven - but a bit stuck in one of the loaf pans and it tastes good.  Nervous about giving Challah - I am absurdly far from South Florida tonight, where I would give Challah with abandon!  Like I'm suddenly worried that my Challah won't measure up in L.A.  Or will strike them as odd.

Dude.  I'm from South Florida; I'm a pagan that bakes Challah.  (And makes charoset, but that's a whole 'nother season.)

Why didn't I buy that bag of blue bows?  I don't have any bows.  Ah well, at least I have Hannukah cards.

Becca, we are SO having Latkas on Christmas Eve.  Holy crap, I wish I had some Latkas RIGHT NOW.  I might actually kill for a noodle kugel like Amy makes.

December is a little insane, but I guess I'm having fun.  Kinda looking forward to buckling down in January, truth be told, but with Hunky Actor Boyfriend working through every party I've got and leaving for a big hunk of time over Christmas proper (AND the solstice, bah!), there's just nothing to do but have fun with my friends, I guess.

Dude, every time I make bread I think, why don't I do this more often?  Like, I'd love to make fabulous whole-grain loaves.  The kneading is awesome, and holy crap, I can not believe I have four bosses now, so no extra loaf of (clearly so *not* whole grain) Challah.  I'm totally going to have to make more so I can have some.

But not tonight.

I have to admit that the seasonal beer I'm drinking a second bottle of right now is simply not my type of beer.  And I cannot believe that I didn't cook my damn pizza when I got home!  Loser. And said not tasty beer is giving me quite a buzz.  Hence, this fabulous, rambling post.

OK, seriously?  SERIOUSLY.  How many games of Carcassonne do I have to join on Yucata to actually get to take a turn like EVER.  Peeps from around the world - please - holy crap - take your damn turn, dudes!

In other gaming news, I have just started gaming with strangers online due to my desire to level on Yucata. What a nerd I am, seriously.  Anyway, Carc is one thing, but I just joined a game of my most favoritest game, In the Shadow of the Emperor on MaBi Web, and I am psyched because Shadow is a fabulously vicious game.

OK, enough rambles.  DEAR GOD, SOMEBODY TAKE THEIR DAMN TURN.

I CAN'T GET IN.

Look, it's not just being a woman that affects my ability to become a director. Social and economic class are huge factors for me. I don't have the time and the money to do what I need to do. I'm not connected to the people who could help me. I get that. I'm on a long-term plan because of it.

But stamina? Desire to work? Confidence and ambition?

The very nature of my being?

I read articles like this one on Salon, and I just want to scream. I want to go into television directing because what I most want to do in life is to get on set and WORK and WORK and WORK - on all different types of subject matter and style. If I could break into television directing and get to the point where I was directing eight episodes a year, I would be happy. Sure, I'd probably work to move forward in my career from there because my ambition would continue to kick in, but I would be working and I would be happy.

And I cannot for the life of me understand what is the difference between a mother with a job and a father with a job. I don't understand. From the Salon article linked above:

Nagle: I'll never forget, I was working with this producer, and his kid would have an ear infection and he'd leave the meeting, and everybody would go, "Oh, God, he's so great." And I went, "If I took that call and left this meeting because my kid had an ear infection, I'd be fucking vilified." It would be over. There would be a call to my agent. I remember just thinking, "You're probably going to see your mistress. You're not going to the kid with the ear infection."

That makes me sick. Not only because it's true, but because if you make the slightest comment in this town you are labeled instantly and rejected as a woman with a chip on her shoulder. And every woman knows it, and so we're all positive, positive, positive, and where is it getting us anyway???

There should be absolutely no difference in the parenting expectations of mothers and fathers. If men can be directors and fathers, then women damn well should be able to be directors and mothers. (In fact, they absolutely were directors when filmmaking was born. The studio system pushed them out.)

Yes, there's the pregnancy; that's nine months of difference (during which you can't get bonded to direct, apparently). But there are things that keep men from working, and no one dismisses them out of hand because they might get prostate cancer. Hell, half this town wastes how much time in rehab? All individuals have different things that come up. Directing is by its very nature an on-again off-again career path, so what the hell is the problem with a few months off for childbirth???

This was something heartening in the article:

Jenkins: My mother was a single mother trying to put herself through college and working a job the whole time I was growing up. She has been so tormented by how busy she was. When I think about my friends who had full-time parents, that was like a weird, weird phenomenon that happened for 20 years. It happened in the '50s to the '60s. And that's it. Before that, people were crossing the country in covered wagons and taking their kids on steamships and working full-time jobs. We're supposed to be working and busy, and I think it's good for kids. That's how life has worked for most of our history.

Yes! Humans thrive when they have good work to do. And children are raised by a mother and a father.

The thing about me is, I prefer to work within the system. I'd like to direct television; I'd like to direct studio pictures. I want to be active in the DGA.

But five years out here, and I'm beginning to turn away from where I can't even get near. I'm starting to realize that while I'm not even managing to bang my fist on the door, new opportunities are opening up on the Internet. The world of content is changing, and maybe there's something there for me.

I'm going to the Film Independent Filmmaker's Forum this coming weekend, too. Time to learn how to make my own way.

One thing's for sure. This woman will NEVER stop working, and this woman will NEVER stop dreaming.

BTW, the second issue of Traction is up.

Born to Direct 1-Hour Episodic Television.

I'm having one of those weeks where being a 1-hour episodic television director seems impossible, and it's harder to self-motivate and focus on the things in front of me to do and have faith that they will get me there eventually. This is how I've moved forward my entire life, and when my faith in myself and my process waivers, it's disturbing.

I met (uber-briefly) a television director this week, and it was the distance between us that got to me. He, of course, is frustrated by feeling stuck in television. And while I can certainly respect that everyone has their frustrations, it's disheartening because so many television directors are similarly frustrated, and I just want to get in. I want to get to work.

My boyfriend is getting into SAG this month, and he has a showcase. He'll start auditioning and living and learning that life. I look at him, and I believe that he will make it. It's easy to see it in someone else.

And I know that being an actor has it's difficulties and it's journey and it's frustrations and it's questions. But more often than not, I find myself so jealous of the existence of a known path. I am so jealous of the audition.

Can you imagine if television studios had one day a year where you could interview in person to direct television shows? Even for one slot. That would change my whole hope landscape. It would be something.

I mean, I apply for the various television directing programs - but HBO started one this year, and they rolled it out quietly to limit applications. To keep people on the outside, like me, out of the application process. Truth be told, that was really depressing. To have come so far and still not have been close enough to hear about that program in time to apply.

I can't float and continuously knock on doors and shadow television directors and make connections because I have to work my day job. I can't take an entry-level television position because of the salary. I don't want to become an assistant director. Let's face it, that's the truth of that. I know that I could direct an episode of television tomorrow and do a damn good job, and I don't want to assistant direct (not a path to directing the way it sounds like it might be for those who are outside the industry), I want to direct.

The path in is to direct an independent feature. This offends my logic, but there it is. Television directing is basically the exact opposite of independent feature directing, but the few television directors I've met got in that way.

I always feel like such a poser in independent film circles. It's all about individual vision, and what I want to do is jump from show's vision to another all year, learning what they want and need, and delivering it on time and under budget, under immense pressure with totally new crew families where I'm the visitor. I want to be that piece of the television puzzle because I know I'd be really great at it. A director is always learning, but I'm ready to jump in.

So how to get to the pool?

Well, truth be told, no one actually knows. So I have to simply continue looking ahead at my short term and seeing what I can do and doing it.

I'm never going to quit trying, so really the angst is just a waste of time and energy. Not that that keeps it from knocking on my door every once in a while. Stupid angst.

I try not to look at all the people along the path, directing film shorts and going nowhere. That's what really gets to me. What makes me think that I am different? But even I as write that, deep in my soul I believe that I am different. I know that I have what it takes, I know my specific goal, and I simply can not believe that I will not make it if I never give up. Perhaps I'll change my mind in twenty years, but I've got at least twenty years left in me to push. I'm still a kid in directing terms, really. So I remind myself that everything means nothing until it means everything.

Everything means nothing until it means everything.

Here's what I will do by the end of 2007:

• Write my PSA script
• Finish a rough draft of "My Imaginary Boyfriend"
• Get a personal website up with my film shorts online
• Watch and study the fall shows, sketch a frame or two
• Go to the FIND Filmmakers Forum

I've also got two more people I was hoping to have networking meetings with by the end of the year, but I think one of them's blowing me off. (Another thing that's got me down.) It's past the point of my being responsive about it and personally making the meeting happen, and moved on to I'm Over It. Just this morning I thought, maybe I can meet with that television director I (briefly) met instead.

So, is this list of year end goals enough? Is it the right stuff?

I don't know. I never know. But it's what's in front of me to do, and it's going to be a hell of a stretch to get it all done.

And that, my friends, is the only way I know to get where I'm going.

Exploding Brain

I have blog posts in my head; I have blog posts in my head.  But I've got a new computer, and I'm playing with it instead.

iTunes library moved, check.

Pictures organized, check, but still figuring out about picture-y stuff.  Probably do still need to download Graphics Converter...

Address book successfully moved.  Printer driver downloaded and installed.

iWork not even opened yet.  DVD/CD drive not even tried.  I want to turn the iMac around to face my bed and try playing a DVD, but I haven't done it yet.

BUT, mail set up and all old email gone through from laptop.  New three folder email system engaged.  Thank you, Lifehacker!

Oh, and I turned my iMac into my alarm clock.  A very expensive, very kick-ass alarm clock.  For which I just made a very special iTunes playlist.  Dude, you snooze it with the remote.  I seriously heart the remote.

Have you seen the new iPods?  COV-VET, baby.  COVET.

So much more cool computer stuff to do, but coming up sooner rather than later, one hopes, a gray hair update with pics and a book review at the very least.  And some television love.

Blog gold, clearly.  Just like this carefully crafted gem of a post.  Yo, Yo, Yo, I'm a blogging pro.

OK, I'm a little strung out on screen staring overload, clearly...

Online Apple Store Saga, or So Much for my Labor Day Weekend Plans

OK, the moral of this story is that I should have just gone to the bricks & mortar Apple Store.

But, I didn't.  After over a year of deliberation and having pushed my computer purchase off my customary one-beat-too-long, leading to my crying with frustration as the spinning lollipop of yes-this-job-is-going-to-take-you-at-least-one-extra-hour doom on my 2001 iBook, I ordered a new 20" iMac on August 23rd.  I added overnight shipping to get it by 8/31 at the latest.

I ordered online for several reasons.  For one thing, even though there are Apple stores in L.A., to go to one involves the whole driving there, parking, interacting with the people in the shop, checking out.  I wanted to save time and fuss.  I also get very stressed out by making a major purchase I can't quite afford, and I don't like to have those feelings in public when I can avoid it.  And lastly, ordering online allows me to avoid impulse buying.  For example, I decided that $300 to jump to the 24" was an addition I couldn't afford.  (Buying Macs is like facing the movie theater popcorn dilemma on crack - Oh, it's just a little bit more...  Bump, bump, bump.)  But, had I gone to the store, I might have gone for it or been talked into it even.  I needed to not spend that extra $300.  And I needed to not buy a game or any additional software.  Finally, this weekend is supposed to be relaxing.  Shopping is not relaxing.

So here's where my grand theory goes to hell.  On the morning August 30th, it hadn't shipped, so I called the online Apple Store.  The only information they could give me was that it was shipping from overseas.  I was clear that if it wasn't going to ship on the 30th, I wanted to cancel it.  I asked if there was a time by which we could assume it wasn't going to ship.  He couldn't tell me (much of anything), so I said, well, I'll wait till 6pm (when I get off work), and if it hasn't shipped, I'll cancel it.  The guy on the phone said he thought that made sense.

At 5:45, the status switched to "preparing for shipment," and I could no longer cancel it according to the website.  Further, I had no idea there was a status between not shipped and shipped.  Yeah, I was pissed, and I figured I was screwed.  I tried to wrap my mind around the fact that I was not getting my new iMac in time for Labor Day weekend - my plans for which are basically, spend the whole weekend on my new iMac.

Little did I know, I should have called them again.

At 9am, I get to work and check the status.  The shipping information has been updated to say that it's shipping after the Labor Day weekend.  Great.  Then I check my email.  And there's an email from Apple, sent at 5am, that I can call and cancel my order due to the shipping problem!  I immediately pick up the phone.

While I am on hold, the order ships.  Today, Aug. 31st.  For Tuesday 9/4 arrival.

Yeah, I am flippin' pissed.  I had somewhat resigned myself to it not coming in time, but I certainly didn't need to be jerked around this morning.  And while they are issuing me a credit for the overnight shipping that I clearly paid to get my iMac by 8/31, I'm still pissed at how massively mismanaged my order was, and how little information the people on the phone have.

It's not that it's shipping late - the delivery times are estimates and things happen - it's that I couldn't be informed that it wasn't going to make it when I clearly wanted it, and given the option to cancel my order in time to actually CANCEL MY ORDER.

Man, I'm NOT happy.

So now, do I go the Apple Store after work and pay for a second iMac and then return the first one?  UG UG UG.  Plus, I think I'd have to fight for the restocking fee and the cost to ship it back.  And none of that sounds remotely relaxing.

Sigh.

I've certainly got plenty of other stuff to do this weekend - inboxes and Tivo to clear, Netflix to watch, reading to do.  So I guess I'm going to think of it as my weekend to get organized in preparation for iMac arrival.

But WOW am I depressed and aggravated about it.

"That's Sweet"?

This post is cross-posted on BlogHer.

OK, what is up when you tell a guy you miss him and he replies, "That's sweet"?

Hey, Buddy!  How about an, "I miss you, too"???  Or any effing thing that says, I've been thinking about you, too?!

I've gotten this more than once from different guys, and I just don't get it.  It's like I'M saying:  I'm a woman who wants to see you and talk to you and touch you and kiss you and tear all your clothes off and have my way with you and I MISS YOU, YOU DAMN FOOL," and then HE says:  "Aw, that's so sweet!"

I can feel the pat on my head through the phone.  Sweet?  Really, Me?

"Sweet" is just not what I was thinking when I said it, is the thing.

I've gotten the "that's sweet" from guys on other things, too.  Like, "I really care about you."

"Oh, that's sweet."

Is this a chapter in "He's Just Not That Into You"?  Is it?  Because I've got a copy - Do I need to review a chapter?  Uh, again?

It does kinda hit you that way, and I absolutely took it that way the first time, but since it's happened with more than one guy, I'm beginning to think (hope!) that it's more a manner of speech.

Or an early days protection-mechanism.  (As in, he's not quite ready to go there.)

Or the result of his actually being more focused in that moment on work or sleep or whatever else is going on that's not constant desperate longing for me.

Hey, it happens.

And I suppose it's nice that I'm sweet.  Who knew?

It's certainly better than dead silence.  Or, like: "Yeah, about that... We need to talk when I get back."  Or, "Who are you?"

This post is so going to end up like that time back in high school when my boyfriend asked me what I thought of yellow roses, and I said yellow roses were lame, not knowing that yellow roses were all he could find the day before Valentine's Day, but I said yellow roses were lame, so then I ended up with no roses at all.

Because it occurs to me that this post is perhaps less on the sweet.  The gig is up on my supposed sweetness!

But, Hey, Honey?  I Still Miss You.

Well, Sunday was a total bust.

Nothing like a big unscheduled day when you have plenty to do, but instead spend the day pacing about the house like a caged animal, scrounging for food, putzing around on the computer, and wishing your boyfriend would call while it's still daytime.  I felt like crap all damn day.

I mean, it's not out of character for me to have a crash day every few weeks - which yesterday totally was - but it still sucks.  I physically felt like crap from the going away party the night before, and mentally both from that and from my boyfriend working out of town.

I got some stuff done.  Worked on a press release, did some blogging, entered "Hammer" into a film festival, ordered a bunch of (totally awesome!) shirts from the Threadless summer sale, cleared some shows off the Tivo.  Really enjoyed The Starter Wife.

No screenwriting.  Evil.

I had a moment late in the day when I was thinking, I should at least do something constructive with this time.  Bike ride, laundry.  Heck, if I wasn't going to do any screenwriting, I could have done a bike ride.  Of course, I felt like crap, so maybe not.  I could have gone to a movie, or watched a DVD.  Again with the feeling like crap though.

Bah!  What a waste.

I gave up at 9:15 because I started to feel sick again at around 8:30.  Choosing between fighting to stay awake because I really wanted to talk to my boyfriend, or just giving up and crashing.  Chose crashing; he called at 10:30 when I thought he would and left a message.  Man, I really wanted to talk to him.  :(

Alarm went off at 6:15 am, and of course, I'm totally awake and feeling good physically because I had 9 hours of sleep.  This pisses me off, generally, because like I could ever get 9 hours of sleep regularly.  I imagine single me telling anyone I have to be asleep by 10pm on weeknights in a town where dinnertime is at 8pm.  I can't tell you how many people in this town have given me shit if they find out I go to bed before 11:30pm.  On the other end, I get up early so that I can write or do emails before work.  I wish I could leap out of bed at 6am everyday, but my morning wake up tends to get later each weekday as I get more and more exhausted by my week.  5 to 7 hours of sleep is my usual - In fact, 7 hours is pretty decadent.

Ah well, twenty more years of this life, and maybe I'll finally have a real career and not have to work multiple jobs for the first time in my life.  Fucking awesome.

I have to remind myself that I am better at packing my weekdays then I am at working on the weekends.  Weekends are too often killed by errands and laundry and miscellaneous putting around.  And sleep.  Guess I'd rather work morning to night most weekdays, and then crash or have fun or relax on the weekends, because that's what I tend to do.

So, I'm rested.  And Amy's gone, and my boyfriend's out of town.  I'm feeling sad and lonely.  But no matter, because I know the best prescription for what ails me:  work.  The answer is always work.

Here I go, here I go, Here I Go Again...