My apartment seriously smells like popcorn. Possible explanations: popcorn elves visit while I’m in Manhattan all day, making bowls and piles and indeed sacks of Jiffy Pop and Healthy Choice Light (butter flavored) and then eat it all before I get home, the bitches; the man who lives across the hall could be engaged in some activity producing a popcorn-like odor which is then somehow wafting in the direction of my apartment; it’s been a long week and I didn’t have dinner.

I saw Meg Hourihan’s book at the NYU computer store today and it, like, totally blew my mind. (In the sense that I flipped through it for a few minutes and then went to have a beer.)

I need to do something about my back. Options include buying a new, back-friendlier bag in which to lug around my god-awful load of textbooks or being the girl who never, ever has her god-awful load of textbooks in class and has to look on with a surly overachiever who makes her displeasure known with eye rolling and/or long-suffering sighs or keep taking ridiculous quantities of Advil (which is in fact not Advil but generic drugstore-brand ibuprofen) so as to avoid collapsing on the floor of Main Silver, making little whimpery noises like some sort of puppy or whatever.

Apparently, the web design club at NYU would like me to Talk About Web Design at some point in the relatively near future. I’m alarmed, not usually being the Talking sort. I’ll probably do it anyway.

And finally, there is nothing more delectable in this world than going to bed on a tipsy Thursday night knowing I don’t even have to pretend to get up early the following morning.