Awwww yeah.  After two separate bouts of desperate weeping precipitated by the thought of losing my perfectly healthy husband to various deadly forms of cancer, and the discovery on my regular circuit of errands that I HATE EVERYONE, I think I can say the Lupron is kickin’ in.  Various irritants are barely bearable such as: gavel-to-drivel coverage of General Petraeus on NPR.  Plllllease, does anybody really think we’re actually going to hear any real information from that beleagered military professional?  Of course not – it’s nothing but grandstanding, stammering, boasting and posturing from both sides of the aisle crammed into 2 minute segments masquerading as "questions."  All day long. It’s also cloudy.  The grocery stores are so over-airconditioned that I decided to make my first stew of the fall.  Thank God they had the cut-up squash at Trader Joe’s or I might have taken hostages.

All I can say is stay in the crosswalk, pull your pants up, and don’t look me in the eye; I am feeling homicidal.

This song actually made me smile and got me through one of those annoying traffic jams by the school – you know, where everyone is so concerned about picking up their own little darling that they don’t care who they pull in or out in front of, or where they double park.  The normally sorta-mature-for-her-bubblegum-genre Avril Lavigne here is juvenile and mean-spirited, the rhymes are atrocious, the video is stupid, the supposedly desirable guy looks like an idiot, and the dancing is bad: but the "Hey Mickey" drums and the stripey socks and I don’t know.  Turn it up loud and – if you happen to have a skinful of Lupron – it just might get gooood for you too.