[I want to wake up naked next to you, kissing the curve in your clavicle]

Phil saved me. I was starting to lose it and he swooped in and saved me, simple as that. He took me crusing in his ultra-smooth new ride, which he loves completely.

So I’m sitting here at work while he wiles away the time in my room, which is thick with the stench of bird-death. I can’t help but feel a little hypocritical and sad for this loss of life. I like to think of myself as a pacifist. Apparently, though, I’m one who goes around eradicating annoying wildlife at my leisure.

Angel on my right shoulder: They were just chirping, doing what their instincts told them to! Just spreading happiness with their songs! Why can’t you and nature live in harmony?

Devil on my left shoulder: Yeah, well, you were just trying to do what your instincts told you, too! When you get off at midnight and there are birds going apeshit three feet above your head at 5 a.m. while you’re just entering your REM cycle, you expect to be able to sleep soundly in your $600/month room! Kill kill kill!

If only Senate Republicans were holed up in my ceiling, proposing war and same-sex marriage bans. Then I would pump the rafters full of poison and relish the smell of rot. Luckily, the marriage amendment failed to get enough votes to proceed. But Bill Frist is spewing his ire and making me ashamed to be a Tennessean. And Rick Santorum is nuts as usual. Check out this gem: “I would argue that the future of our country hangs in the balance because the future of marriage hangs in the balance. Isn’t that the ultimate homeland security, standing up and defending marriage?” Yes, Rick. You can let bombs rain on my house but you better not let dykes get married. Oy.