It may sound like a joke, but it is utterly the truth that I am covered in paper cuts. I spent 1.5 hours photocopying manuscripts today, and I have the wounds to prove it.

The mysterious boy on the train continues to make standing on a station platform a completely uncomfortable experience. He hasn't tried to talk to me again; he just hovers. I stare at the ground. No eye-contact for him.

Oh, reader! Oh, dudes! How could I have forgotten? I saw Rilo Kiley on Saturday night!

Joe, you were so right: it was a huge dance party. And her guitar strap said 'Jenny' in silver glitter, and Blake wore a bowtie, and there were huge beach ball-sized balloons filled with confetti, and they played so many awesome older songs--Ripchord, Wires and Waves, Paint's Peeling (!), I Never, Portions for Foxes, Spectacular Views--and they bloody covered Rise Up with Fists!!!, and Jenny wore a silvery, hot-pants-jumpsuit, and we all sang Happy Birthday to Blake, and then he blew out a candle in a donut hole, and Jonathan Rice fucking rocked (something I never expected to say), and he sang a duet with J.L. that was utterly lovely, and Jenny and Blake sang With Arms Outstreched and the whole entire crowd, completely everyone, sang along. I had just about mostly lost my voice by the end.

Gold star.