...but, I won 3rd Place as Prof. Sinestra in a costume contest at the annual Harry Potter Yule Ball tonight. Yeah, it's past Yuletide and no, there wasn't much ballroom dancing going on, but still...it was fun! And I got to confirm that Divination is a woolly discipline when 'Professor Trelwaney' had to keep referring to a palmistry book while she was reading my friend's hand. Also, I got sorted into Slytherin (big surprise there, to TV.com regulars).

Since I'm in such a good mood there'll be no hexing or cursing from me of submitters who still can't spell the Queen's English properly and no lines assigned for 'I must not use poor syntax or bad punctuation.' Full marks for everyone.

Now, go wash your face with a tartan flannel, put on your pyjamas, and check to make sure the Monster Book of Monsters isn't under your bed.

In case any of you that periodically check this page haven't already realized, I'm not much of a blogger. As news flashes go, that ranks right up there with the Lindberg baby kidnapping and Disco is Dead. And it's not because I don't like to write. I adore the English language and all its permutations. Forming it to my will and following wherever it leads is a special joy.

But, consistently writing about what one thinks and feels just seems...indulgent. And tedious. Not that some folks don't enjoy it immensely. But I've always felt internal things should be just that, internal. And I think I'd rather be the first in line for 'two for one' Root Canal Day at my dentist than keep some sort of crazy running tally of all the meaningless stats on this site. But, hey, as long as it makes some folks happy, keep those blue boxes a-coming.

Now, go wash your face and say 10 Hail Marys for Mother Grammatica's continued good health.

"Cowbell. I've gotta have more cowbell!"

I can never listen to Blue Oyster Cult's Fear the Reaper with the same attitude again. Isn't Christopher Walken one of the most marvelous creatures God ever created. I wouldn't accept an invitation to go boating with him, but he is marvelous. God must have been toking some great...stuff to come up with a Christopher Walken that day.

Now, go wash your face, wash your cowbell, and I'll see ya in the morning.

Oh, I should have something more pithy to say about converting to an Autobot since that show was one of my childhood loves. I should be able to effortlessly relate it to a current stage of my life or a passing trend I've noticed on the site. If I were waxing Garrison Keilor-ish I could wallow in the nostalgia of a 22-minute animated commercial of 80's kid consumerism and poignantly equate it to my now-derision for all things mechanically obtuse or circumspect.

Or, maybe not. It was just a cartoon. Sorry, Optimus, I dropped the ball on this one. Guess I'll have to give my club pin and Bumblebee action figure back.

Bless the spirit of Jean-Paul Sartre, surely there must be a pang of Existential angst in there somewhere? Right?

Now go wash behind your ears and have you hugged a philosopher today?

Okaaaay, my level just flipped over to 13(13%) about a minute ago. If this were the 13th of the month or a Friday, I'd be hiding under my bed til sunrise tomorrow. Just call me Shleprock. (Who really needs to be an Icon here.)

If it wasn't for real bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all...