I have now in my possession the much-coveted (by at least me, though I suspect there are others) The West Wing seasons one and two and the complete (amounting to, of course, also, seasons one and two) Sports Night DVDs. For this occasion, I coined the term nerdgasm. I anticipate it becoming a useful addition to my personal lexicon. As much as the DVDs are to my embarrassingly small personal collection.

Ramble ramble ramble... a cup of coffee, it turns out, does as much damage to my ordinarily feeble brain as a couple vodkas and lime.

Lately ensconced in such undeniable and nerdgasmic brilliance as Aaron Sorkin, Lynne Truss' Eats, Shoots and Leaves and cinematic masterpieces on the level of The Graduate, Pleasantville, The Ice Storm and Kenneth Branagh's DVD commentary to Dead Again, I am morbidly aware of my own verbal suckage. That is an overly long sentence. Let's pretend it makes a paragraph and continue.

My problem is I start 90% of my sentences with 'I.' If you will review my collected works, I'm sure you'll find that a conservative estimate. The curse of a commitment to self-aggrandizement and glorified self-abuse, I fear. Yes. Yes, too much introspection, there's no doubt about that. Self-obsession, whatever you'd like to call it. Even so, I think I once made such limited sentence constructs into something interesting — at least interesting to me, which is, after all, the only audience I'm really concerned about.

I meant to say I bore myself, but on so much caffeine, self-loathing is impossible and I find myself rather amused with... myself.

Ah, anyway. Two days of work remain, which I have come to describe (to myself) as simply 'hateful,' though it's quite an easy job and I mostly sit, listen to oldies, and play with worms. (I accidentally cut one in half today in the customary zeal with which I attack my weedy victims, and was quite upset, lamenting aloud, 'Oh god, I'm so sorry!') I'm committed to six hours over these two days but I tend to leave up to a half hour before I'm scheduled to, as my mom/boss (if you read that fast, it comes out mob-boss, which is all cool and henchmanlike — nerdgasmic, even) is on vacation and there's no clock in the department, so whatever. I do realize there is no content to my writing at the moment; let's try another paragraph.

So I move back to Marietta Saturday, and before then I'm getting a haircut, perhaps a new pair of glasses and an oil change. I don't see when I'll have time to pack, because all I feel like doing is watch early SN & TWWs where the characters have funny hairdos. I'm not even a little unpacked from the Netherlands, so how repacking and actually moving is going to work, I don't know.

Well now the caffeine high threatens to wane and I'm in danger of finding myself the loser I undoubtedly am again so I shall stop here. There's a sentence I shall disown in the morning. Sentence certainly does not start with a C. mmm.