Instead of feeling creative and digging in with witty (yet concise!) stuff to say, I am reminded of my first foray into therapy as a teenager. I would just sit there, not sure what to say and I wasn't getting any help. I think she was waiting for me to just spill something...but I really didn't know how to do it.

So. There. Kinda like this. But if this becomes like therapy, I am locking it up and hiding in a hole.

I'd rather write about how much I am loving Spun.com right now. I am now the proud owner of A Night At The Playboy Mansion after having it on my wishlist for over a year. I mean...this is some mighty fine disco. Yeah...I said "disco". Anyhoo, I love Spun.com because I just had to trade CDs I no longer want instead of having to pay cash. Which is key.

And in other news...there are now 4 police cruisers, a "wagon", and an ambulance here to pick up my next door neighbor. They were here earlier, but he wasn't home. I have never seen this guy until today, after the cops left (the first time). He parked on the street, opened the hatch of his girlfriend's car and stared at a rolled up carpet for like FOUR minutes. Then he took the carpet out and rolled it out. On the STREET. And he stood on it and stared at it for another FOUR MINUTES. Then he rolled it up, verrrrry slowly closed the hatch...and carried the carpet inside. I was thinking "Why bother? The cops are coming back." but I am thinking he didn't know about his impending...arrest? I mean FOUR cruisers? One for every minute he stared at that carpet? Or what? They don't expect him to come quietly. Did I mention this guy lives right next door?

La is busy watching from our upstairs window. With the lights out, natch. Wouldn't want everyone to know just how nosy we are after all.

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