full of grace

I caught one of my classmates sort of plagiarizing (which feels like saying a little bit pregnant) this week, and it sent me into a spiral of an ethical dilemma yesterday- I still have not come up with a course of action. That might be why I did not come up with a post. It might also have been due to the fact that I was gleeful in a schadenfraude way about all of the Governator's propositions flailing; I feel a little wrong about that, because I do not feel like I understand every proposition thoroughly. Of course, it might also have been that I am incredibly lazy.

Thoughts on last night's Lost:

• Dude, don't try to tend to the wounded with a badge of "I'm a clinical psychologist." Wha?!? It would be better to just reply, "I'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV."
  
• Internal monologue at the beginning of the episode: Okay, someone's going to die, and Sawyer's looking a little worse for wear, what with taking a bullet, pulling it out himself, having a gaping wound that should have gone all gangrene by now, and getting punched in the face several times by Ana-Lucia. It better not be him. Dude, these a$$hats at ABC have already taken away one of my main sources of eye candy. They best not take away the Sawyer, or I'll be relegated to renting Jake Gyllenhall films instead of watching the idiot box.
  
• That Walt sure is good at playing dripping wet, creepy kid.
  
• Am I supposed to feel badly for Shannon based on her back story? Because, uh, not so much.
  
• Wow, this show is pretty enjoyable without much of Jack & Kate.
  
• Ah, I am the biggest sucker on earth for male bonding. I do not know why. If a bunch of women get all ya-ya sisterhood on television, I usually feel the gag reflex coming on, and the eye roll close behind. But, put a trio of guys together who begrudgingly become friends, and I'm all squee! about it.

Thoughts on last night's dinner with the ever effervescent D:

• We walk into this new, french restaurant in my neighborhood, and the host asks if it's one of our birthdays today. Both of us reply it's not, although I throw in, "I don't mind celebrating mine though, if you want." They arbitrarily decide that it's D's birthday. Throughout dinner, there's mention of her birthday. The creme brulee comes out with a candle in it. The waitress shoots me a dirty look when we go dutch. As we're leaving, we get one last "Happy Birthday, again!" from the waitstaff.
  
• They played one song three times while we were at dinner. Personally, I'm convinced this was just part of D's birthday celebration. I think they saw her singing along the first time, and just could not help but play encores for her.
  
• YUM. Seriously.

The upcoming exam onslaught is causing me a background level of stress- I have not actually started studying, but I have started worrying. How very Aunty G of me.

Also, screw you Keane- the little Britpop jerks have lodged Everybody's changing into my head, and it will not. get. out.