Today on the way home from work, a cop drove by me and he looked exactly like Mr. Julian Sark. From Alias. Duh. Try and keep up, people. And by the time he'd turned the corner and I could no longer see him in my rearview mirror I had already created an elaborate story that involved Sark, Sydney Bristow, a fake Swedish accent, Michael Vartan and a wet shirt, a stolen police car and uniform, and a device that IF UNLEASHED could annihilate the entire world. Oh, and Jack Bristow and a headset were there, too because you cannot have a successful spy mission without Jack Bristow and his headset. And this is why I need to stop watching TV altogether.
Speaking of TV, who is watching Big Brother? Don't lie. I know you are. I love Howie's mancrush on Dr. Will. They are heterosexual life partners. But Kaysar. Oh, Kaysar. You're so pretty. But you're so stupid. It's OK, though, I'll still love you even when you get voted out next week.
I totally forgot to say anything, mainly because I had forgotten myself until my roommate reminded me earlier, but we were in a car accident this weekend. Not a bad one. It was in her car, which is good because I think my car would fall apart if someone looked at it the wrong way. A guy came out from a sidestreet on our right and as Heidi drove by he scraped the shit out of her car. It could have been a lot worse, though, because Heidi saw him pulling out and she swerved to the left so we didn't hit him head on. I've never had the pleasure of having an airbag explode in my face, but I can't imagine it's something I want to experience. Luckily, the guy who hit us was really nice. Even luckier? The fact that Heidi was driving, because I was hungover and not wearing my contacts or glasses. She hadn't had anything to drink the night before so she had reflexes like a CAT. Meow! Right now, she's out of town on business, so for the next couple of days I'm responsible for not setting the apartment on fire or getting us evicted. Wish me luck.