I'm finally emotionally recovering from the weekend. The new pills my doctor prescribed to me have bestowed me with way too much estrogen, and I was a crazy woman. Everything A. said to me was either unbelievably hilarious or mean or belittling, generally the latter. There was a lot of stomping away, scraping my car into parking lots, slamming of shower doors. I was hurt, outraged, ashamed, desperate, depressed. I hate pms, and I swear to God, this was the worst I've experienced it since I can remember (probably since college, when I was raw enough to have those kinds of mood swings). I was bad news. Anyway, St. Andrew survived it and seems to have forgiven me, though he treats me a bit warily and keeps asking me what I did with his real girlfriend (the mercurial bitchy one). Geez.

(Yeah, and I'm the moody one. He's out in the living room yelling "muthafucka" at the tv screen.)

We watched this new show, Crossroads, on CMT. It combines the sounds of country and rock, and the first episode was a live performance with Lucinda Williams and Elvis Costello, incredible.

Speaking of cable shows, I'm obsessed with Space Ghost. Actually, Zorak's my favorite:

It's the voice. That's the same voice my dog Hannah has when my family freaks out and pretends my dogs have personalities. Kind of Beavis-y, only crabbier.