ode to the Margarita

After a day like yesterday (apologies for the dramatics, clinical depression sure is a bitch sometimes...) anything I say is bound to appear overly cheerful. I got a new CD burner in the mail (Jen rocks my fucking socks!)!!! Still working out the kinks, but I finally succeeded in getting the bay to actually open when I hit the eject button. Also, Jessie brought me a new tape full of cable-y goodness (I can live without the bulk of cable, but I go to great lengths for Adult Swim and Chappelle's Show); maybe one day I'll actually have time to watch some of it! I bought Lisa's turndown (an odd concept since I actually receive money in exchange for performing a service, but whatever) meaning I have the pleasure of dragging my ass back to the hot shop in 4 hours, seemingly rendering the act of going to bed pointless. Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin my chances for sleeping through art history tomorrow...now that's tragedy. What to do with four hours? Continue working (rather, begin working) on my Kandinsky paper? Re-organize my glass notes? Clean my room? Demon alcohol, illicit drugs, and bootleg cable?
Some of life's big questions have easy answers....