Doh, I didn't realize it had been so long since my last public entry. Get with it, Briznatchy.

Work is work. There is nothing to report, other than filing, copying, logging, expense checks and a fire drill. Yesterday I held a photocopy of a check for over $12,000,000. I wonder what it must feel like to hold the real thing, especially one in my name!

Allan and I traveled to Ft. Macon last weekend because any sort of new stimulus seems to really help boost my mood. I hadn't been there since 8th grade and the Civil War rifle demonstration was just as loud as I remembered. Allan hated walking on the beach (I mean really hated it) but I am glad I could talk him into a few minutes of strolling. I am an obsessive beach comber, convinced that everything I find will have an awesome use at some point. Considering all of the body parts I had to sift through, there must have been a crab vs. sandfiddler massacre that was never publicized. Damn conservative media, highlighting the newest missing white girl and ignoring the plight of crabs and fiddlers on our beaches.

I discovered a four story antique/vintage shop in downtown Raleigh. It's marvelous. They have heaps of furniture, records, art, and an entire floor of vintage clothing and accessories. One kicky pair of shoes I tried on actually fit and were only priced at $8. I want the sofas and tables too, but I have nowhere to arrange them. To bring a depressing twist of modernity to my find, I added the store as a friend on myspace. It almost sucks the joy out of the experience, but at least I'll be reminded that they are there.

I posted pictures of my handmade postcards on facebook. They were pretty fun to put together and clearly demonstrate my obsession with highlighters. I guess my skills in cutting and pasting have also come into use in the real world. No, honestly, I used to cut up images of celebrities I adored and make them into a collage in a giant notebook I am sure I still own. The pictures had to fit together perfectly on each page and none could overlap. No pictures could be trimmed to force their placement. I therefore had an overflowing bag of pictures waiting for their turn to fit into the mold. And I wonder why I never majored in Geometry, lol...

PS: The celebrities in that book are amazingly indicative of my personality. I don't think there is a single male, except on the X-Files pages. Girl Power, rar rar.