As you would expect, I did my Big Geek duty and saw Star Trek: Nemisis today. It was pretty damn cool. I had some quibbles with it -- which I won't go into here for fear of spoiling it -- but overall, it was good treky fun.

The minute I got home and turned on my computer, I got an IM from Andy:

andydehnart: see the new trek yet?
andydehnart: it rocks!
sjerslix: Heh. Just got back from it
[Plot details removed]
andydehnart: that was amazing
andydehnart: so was [the nemisis guy]
sjerslix: I couldn't get over his lips
[plot details deleted]
andydehnart: yummy lips
sjerslix: Well, yeah, but distracting
sjerslix: Who was that guy -- have you seen him before?
andydehnart: http://tomhardyrealm.tripod.com/
andydehnart: he's kinda hot
sjerslix: He is
andydehnart: he's also 26
sjerslix: What are you saying -- he's too young for me?
andydehnart: no, i'm saying he's perfect for me :-)
andydehnart: he was in band of brothers and black hawk down, although i saw neither
sjerslix: Ah. I saw Blackhawk Down
sjerslix: That also featured my husband, Orlando Bloom, but he was an idiot who had a bad accent in that one.
andydehnart: sorry to have to break this to you, but orlando bloom is my love affair, so he's been cheating on you
sjerslix: As long as he keeps coming home to me.
sjerslix: Actually, he's also very young. Sigh. My lust objects are getting younger than me. I'm now officially old.

When did this happen? When did all the new yummy creatures on camera get so young? It's very disconcerting.

That's not to say I've written off men my own age and older. Ewan McGregor is on The List, and he's 31. Hugh Jackman is very much there, and he's 34. (I used to have a thing for Russell Crowe (38), but he got booted from The List after the "How dare you cut my poem! *smack*" incident at the BAFTAs.)

But Orlando Bloom is seven years younger than me. Tom Hardy is six years younger. And the next hot young thing out of Hollywood is going to be, well, younger. This wasn't supposed to happen. Harumph.

My holy mission in life may very well be to teach business types that there is no shame in writing a simple declarative sentence. On the contrary, it's a fine and beautiful thing. And yes, I'm more than willing to use electroshock avoidance therapy to get my point across.

Who decided "learnings" was a word, much less a noun? Because if I ever meet that person, I will repeatedly kick him/her/it in the head.

As far as I can tell, saying someone learned a lesson isn't exciting enough. No, Important Business People share learnings with each other.

Learnings! What the fuck.

Most of the baking is done. Most of the shipping has taken place. Most of the kitchen is back under control.

Most. But not all.

This Jersild baking compulsion gets a little much sometimes. It occurs tome that if I just cooked and/or baked consistantly throughout the year, I wouldn't have to make such a production and try out every recipe from Thanksgiving to New Years. Oh well.

This year's list:

• Pebbernodder, otherwise known as kibble or paranoia. This is my signature cookie. Pebbernodder/Kibble/Paranoia is a Danish christmas cookie that my grandmother used to make. They're little gingery-spicy nuggets that do indeed look like dog food. They taste much better.
  
• Cranberry-White Chocolate Biscotti
  
• Ginger Chocolate Chip Biscotti
  
• Toffee Biscotti
  
• Amaretto, Chambord and Grand Marnier truffles
  
• Creme de menthe squares. (This link isn't the exact same as my recipe, but eh, it's close enough.)

Those that are getting packages mailed to you: Expect only the kibble and the biscotti. The rest doesn't travel well. Sorry.

Right. I'm calmer now. I talked to my friend Brian, a lawyer, who told me getting sued for an auto accident isn't really getting sued. The insurance company deals with it all. I'm still mightily pissed.

The best thing about the notice of attorneys lien I got? They got it wrong. Yep, Baskin, Server, Berke & Weinstein of Chicago screwed up the paperwork. The heading on the lien has the name of the guy who was in the accident with me, but the body of the letter has someone else's name entirely. Dorks.

Maybe I can get them to hire me as a proofreader.

[On the advice of counsel, I must emphasize that the following post is in my opinion, and not a matter of legal fact:]

Son of a bitch. The asshole I got in a car accident with is suing me. Bastard, bastard, bastard.

I tried to stay away. I tried to ignore it. I tried to deny my feelings. I tried... and I failed.

The Trib book sale. Every time I think I'm out, they pull me back in.

$2.78/book, though. Mostly hardbacks. That ain't bad.

Yes, I am an unemployed self-employed person. Yes, I don't need to spend money on books when there's a fabulous library system in the city. Yes, I have too damn many books to begin with. I don't care. If loving the Trib book sale is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Sleepovers are a lot more work now. We had inflatible beds and contact lenses and medications and crying babies. It was still a hell of a lot of fun -- we watched Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas, The Year Without a Santa Claus, Charlie Brown Christmas, and the Grinch. Quality viewing. I don't know if there's anything recent that even comes close to those specials. Plus there was hot chocolate with schnappes. And no one's bra got frozen.