At Buli today, (BoooliBoooliBoooooooli [said boogy-man style]) I parked myself in one of the high-back chairs, sipped my chai latte' and did a little work. Sure, I feel a little guilty... that I get to listen to dance music while casually checkin' out the local fellas, all while being paid... but I actually was rather productive and focused.

I've decided to hold off on my purchase of the grand, HP HW6515 Communicator (sounds like it's from the lips of Angels, doesn't it?). When I meet with the Arm Doctor in TWO WEEKS, if he tells me my condition isn't serious, and I won't need a dual-appendage transplant or whatever, I'll make the buy. If I end up needing time off work, however, that zillion-dollars I would've spent will help pay a few bills. I don't think a GPS-enabled phone will be too neccesary if I'm confined to a bed.

Lieutenant 6'2" (that's right, Mr. Seattle is a tall military officer) and I have been chatting on the phone nightly... looking forward to Columbus day -- or whenever I can make arrangements to visit. Last night we shared "best gift / worst gift" stories... he won with "My ex-boyfriend gave me a bottle of vodka and a coffee mug for Christmas." I came in way behind with "My aunt gave me a home-made Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sweatshirt... WHEN I WAS FOURTEEN."

I hear Mrs. Pregnant-Nasty-Stole-Someone's-Baby-Daddy-To-Make-Him-Her-OWN-Baby-Daddy Spears has a new album on the way. If the track titles end up resembling "Suckin' on Momma" or "Drop it Like it's Hot (Not the Kid)", then this will be the first non-greatest-hits Britney album I've avoided. I just don't wanna hear songs about daycare and diapers... I want shallow, I'm-sexy-watch-me-dance lyrics.

Whatchagonnadowhenacrowdgoesheeeyohh?