What was my deep, cliched, and all-around utterly fatuous thought this morning?

Some weeks are just harder than other weeks.

Yeah, I've got all three pistons pumping at full throttle in this brain of mine. The thing is, I always want a reason WHY. WHY? I don't like to just struggle without understanding it. But in this case, there is really nothing to point to except the regular day to day stress of "the grind." It's just not anymore complicated than that. Oh and Winter. The WINTER THAT WOULD NEVER END . . .

Although I did dream of painting Ukranian Easter Eggs and in the dream I kept turning to the woman next to me to say, "Stella McCartney's obsession with the egg shape is because she just had a baby." (Thanks Coquette. Next I'll have Lanvin waltzing through the ether . . .) And then I dreamt I was on some kind of adventure trip with a group of vaguely familiar people and my legs came out of the bottom of the canoe and I had to flap them to propel the canoe and I kept wondering if everybody else's legs were underwater or if it was just me. I also wanted flippers.

And then I woke up. Heavily. Full of deep thoughts.

Fatuous. Love that word. And Fey. And Fetching--- think I'm gonna have an "F" kind of a day today.

Cause I come downstairs and T has the news up on the computer (which normally I can avoid la la la tra lalalala). And I am slapped in the face with Bushworld:

Weeks after the United States declared Afghanistan on the verge of becoming a narcotic state, Condoleeza Rice praises Afghan democracy efforts.

The Senate has approved drilling for oil in Alaska. Et tu, Brutus? Why don't you just drill out my fucking heart?

W wants Wolfowitz to head the World Bank. And we're gonna let him? (Of course that's the "royal we" as there's not a freaking thing I'm going to do about it except run and hide.

Sigh.

Mike Meyers and Dana Carvey are jumping around in my head and they are singing "Bush World, Bush World" over and over.

got 2 cents?