  I had a really nice weekend. I bought some super cool clothes at Target (including a denim blazer, which does not, I might add, violate my long-standing rule of "No Jean Jackets Allowed. " This is a blazer, not a jacket. My father wears a jean jacket. Mine was stolen at the mall when I was eight. These are all reasons why I don't wear jean jackets), went to a KnitOut and met some nice people, then went to Columbia to visit the other half of my brain. I missed that crazy backwater pirate of mine. We watched TV and ate fish sticks. We also reviewed some lovely pictures of yours truly, including the notorious "Kristin Doing Laundry While Wearing an Eyepatch.
" I'm so glad she has several copies of that. I am now the proud owner of a picture of my rendition of the classic Chuck Buel Shuffle. WHY did anybody let me dye my hair really dark last Thanksgiving? Being mad at Justin doesn't justify making myself look like Christina Aguilera before Christina Aguilera looked like Christina Aguilera. Being mad at Justin does, however, justify creating a new boyfriend named Todd. Todd goes to law school at Stanford but flies back here to see me every night, 'cause that's the kind of guy that Todd is. He's also a very good kisser. I finally made the buttermilk bread. Mmm. It smells amazing. I have an interview tomorrow morning. I need to find some clips. Five bucks says I wait until 7:28 a.m. tomorrow. 
