Just another one of my sordid, sordid addictions

Just another one of my sordid, sordid addictions

In the interest of full disclosure I have an admission to make. It started as a fascination with with show "Lost" about plane crash victims on a mysterious island, but it's escalated from there. "Lost" was created by a fellow named J.J. Abrams. This fellow also created other shows like "Alias" and "Felicity". Combine this with my reading the first issue of Alias, the comic, thinking it was based on the TV series and you can deduce for yourselves the sick truth: I've become addicted to "Alias". It's like you wake up one day and realize that one thing is ruling your life. It's all you can think about. That's not really the case here, but I do rather enjoy watching multiple episodes at a time. What frightens me most is wondering what will happen once I run out of "Alias" episodes? Will I move on to "Felicity"? I promise you all this: if it comes to that, I'll admit myself to a clinic. There are simply some lows I will not allow myself to reach.

Speaking of addictions, I bought an iPod today. I don't know what it's like elsewhere, but the iPod phenomenon swept through Los Angeles like locusts. Locusts that make people very, very happy. They're more like a plague of bunnies, really. Anyway, I was at The Grove today, and they happen to have an Apple store there. I thought I'd wander in and just check my email. The little bastards are clever, though. They stand right out there in the open, almost as if they're on display. I couldn't resist. My most intelligent and respected friends out here have been raving about them after making their iPod purchase. One of my friends is even knitting her iPod a cozy. [UPDATE: Apple has apparently beaten my friend at her own game. They've made freakin' socks for the iPod. What are they, children? Will they come out with tiny, stylish condos for the iPods next?] She hasn't made me a scarf, but she's making sure a thing that doesn't have skin stays comfortable and warm. With such devotion to an inanimate object, however, and the hype--oh, the hype!--the iPod siren dashed my poor bank account upon the rocky shore of poverty. I named the perpetrator "Sex Machine, Jr." We still don't know who the father is, but there's a good chance his name was "Sex Machine".

In case you want to be jealous and/or rekindle some hatred toward me, it was 84° in Los Angeles today. I walked everywhere in shorts and a t-shirt. Good golly, Miss Molly is February going to go fast this year. Send any hate mail to comfyinshorts@sunnyallday.com. *maniacal laughter*

Reading:

Too many blogs

Serendipities, Umberto Eco

Listening to:

My entire friggin' music library wherever I go. Thanks, iPod!

D