I cut my hair off. Who am I to argue with the popular vote? But part of me wishes I'd waited until it was actually, as opposed to nominally, spring. Specifically, my ears and the back of my neck are less than thrilled. Brr.
Speaking of the popular vote, we're agonisingly close to finishing the final season of the West Wing and I know we're supposed to care who wins the election but OMG WHO CARES ABOUT THAT WITH ALL OF THE ROMANTIC TENSION OMG OMG. How the hell did people cope, watching this unfold over weeks? I am beside myself with excitement. If you haven't seen it, what are you waiting for? And if you have seen it YOU KNOW WHO I'M TALKING ABOUT. (Sorry, the West Wing has a tendency to bring out my all caps.) There's a faint whiff of Grey's Anatomy lingering in the White House corridors these days, with all of the snogging. There doesn't seem to be much governing going on here, people.
I doubt that sort of thing goes on over at the Scottish Parliament. At least, I hope it doesn't. Let's just say there aren't many Holyrood couplings I'd be quite so happy to watch on screen. The mind boggles.
For those of you who might not be fully up to speed with your Scottish politics, we have a referundum coming up next year to determine whether Scotland should remain part of the United Kingdom or become a fully independent country. Facts and figures are being hurled at us from all sides already, but neither camp has yet addressed my primary concern: what about Eurovision? I don't know if I'm ready to face a future where Scotland's finest musical talent has to slug it out in the semi-finals against the demented warblings of some former plumber from Azerbaijan. It's time for the campaigns to stop fretting about taxes and national identity and start getting into the serious issues.
Just as long as they don't start snogging.
P.S. On a completely unrelated note, I added some new pictures to the portfolio. Thanks, Lauren!
Image: Frank Egel Photography. Just to be clear, that's not me. In case there was any confusion. Ahem.
