Harumph. I am feeling less rapturous about my Polish subcontractors -- They were supposed to be finished today, but the medicine cabinet is still too high, the refrigerator is still at a wonky angle, and they broke one of my over-the-sink elephants from Hong Kong. I'd glue him back together, but I have no idea what they did with the trunk. Sigh.

News flash: People don't respect journalists. At least politicians and real estate agents were more abhorrent to the general populace.

Jane sent me an article about advertising via the homeless. Apparently they do it in San Francisco, too. I still find it disturbing.

Other evidence that I need to get out more:

I am listening to Lotti's Sci Fi mix, which is currently playing William Shatner's Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. It's diabolical, and yet, I'm still listening. Jesus, did anyone give him money to do this? It's awful.

For some reason I cannot at all fathom, I've had "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" stuck in my head. I have amused myself by inserting other place names:

Don't cry for me Ulan Bator
The truth is, I never liked you
With all your horse dung
And camels spitting.....

Don't cry for me, Kampuchea
The truth is, I'll only kill you
With the Khmer Rouge
And mountains of skulls....

Don't cry for me, Pennsylvania
The truth is, I'll always love you
With Philadelphia,
And all those cheese steaks....

Don't cry for me, California... West Virginia... North Dakota.... Upper Volta....

You get the idea. The trick is to get a good place four-syllable place name with the stress on the third syllable. Why am I doing this? I have no idea.

This can't be a good sign.

I've never even seen Evita. Damn you, Andrew Lloyd Weber! Damn yoooooooooooooooooooou!