2005-10-13 - 8:00 p.m.

The best thing about having a loved one who plays in bands is that when the loved one leaves for band practice, you can blare Split Lip Rayfield and perform special jigs for the cat. I guess you could do that with the loved one around, but it�s not the same.

No school today! In observance of Yom Kippur. Thank you, Jewish classmates!

Unfortunately, I didn�t do anything spectacular. I started making an outline for my Contracts class. Outlining is this really fun thing that law students get to do. No really, it�s awesome. OK, it�s not awesome at all.

Being home all day, I made an unnerving observation. Over the last few months, the hippie landlord/neighbors have been cooking bacon each and every night. Not an evening goes by without the scent of bacon wafting through our kitchen window. I used to love the smell, but they�re ruining it for me. And today I realized, it�s not just a once-a-day thing. They cooked bacon three times! Once at 9:00 AM, once around noon, and now they�re doing it again. I�m not one to meddle, but it might be time for an intervention.

You might be wondering what on Earth are hippies doing eating pork parts? Alls I can say is they�re lousy hippies. They break all kinds of tenets of the hippie credo. They don�t even make hemp crafts. Perhaps they need a tutorial.

By the way, what is this �autumn� you people speak of? We do not have that here in Southern California. Today my car said it was 103 degrees. Can you believe it? That�s too many degrees! I�m going to write a letter to my congressman. I was going to candy a pound of walnuts tonight, but I can�t bear to go near the stove. Too. Damn. Hot.

I take back anything I said about not being a sports fan. I�ve been Super Baseball Nerd all week. Last Friday night, Erik and I celebrated our two-month wedding anniversary by walking over to EJ Malloy�s and watching the game. There may have been some high-fiving. We are rooting for the California Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (or whatever they�re called now), just because they�re the home team. I have to say, it�s not nearly as exciting as rooting for the Red Sox and my Neanderthal boyfriend Johnny Damon.

Speaking of Neanderthals, I keep looking for the perfect reference photo for my Harriet Miers Halloween costume. I thought perhaps this one:

But people might mistake me for a long-lost member of The Revolution.

That was totally mean of me. Ooooh, so mean. Mean as all get out.

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