If you can't hold it, you take your ass to the men's room and cry in private on the toilet… like a man!

I love Fall. It's the greatest.

I love the wearing of layers, I love leaves on the ground, I love that I get to use words like crisp and brisk. There's something about a brisk fall sunset that makes me want to attend a fall football game, do my homework, and go Halloween shopping. (Incidentally, anyone know where a fella' can get him an old-fashioned nurses uniform? Probably one that previously hung from a woman that would be politely described as husky.)

In other news, I've told Crazytown that I don't intend to dwell in her Coo-Coo cave past December. That apparently was the key to stopping the constant phone-calls and e-mails. This somewhat rashly made decision once again finds me homeless during my busiest month in a great long while, but as luck would have it, the fates found me a new place nearly the same night. I don't want to get into great detail, as that tends to jinx things, but I'll just say that I'll be living with my favorite politician, ever. Speculate away.

I was shopping in Magers and Quinn the other day. I was in the middle of reading The Road and looking for something a little more light-hearted for my next literary adventure. I knew I was in trouble when the clerk asked if I meant funny, putting the emphasis on both syllables. He proceeded to recommend several books he had heard were good that he didn't read himself, however, I've already read. At which point, the exasperated clerk said, "Dude, you read too much." So, essentially, the independent bookstore clerk called me a dork.

Reading too much doesn't make me a dork! What makes me a dork is that immediately after getting a new book, I check to see how many pages are in it, divide that number by four, so I can correctly gauge when I am 1/4th, 1/2, and 3/4th's of the way through that book.

If you're not watching Chuck or Pushing Daisies, your life is all the more empty for it.

Since my schedule is going to be working my bar-tending job, rehearsing the dinner theatre show, and then rehearsing Tony and Tina's, while bartending and performing the dinner theatre show, it is unlikely that I'll be able to acquire pug-puppy Jack Bauer until January, when Tony and Tina opens. Or, you know, Christmas. Just in case any of you want to know what to get a guy that has virtually nothing.

Besides a nurses uniform.

More later!