Petey, My Heart!*

I am not one normally given over to histrionics or bouts with anxiety. But last night, at some point, the following thoughts occurred to me:

1) Fuck! I'm going to Kiev tomorrow.
2) I need to get all my recommendation forms, personal statements, and supplementary material with instructions and deadlines out to all of my recommenders. Now.
3) Fuck! I need to pack.
4) Is it cold there?
5) Do I really only have one glove?
6) Fuck!

And it's been one pulsating ulcer since then. I really wanted to have a nice quiet time with SueAndNotU, so we could reflect on our upcoming voyage, and more importantly, reflect on the colossal crash-and-burn of karmic proportions that was Ashlee Simpson's SNL performance. Oh little girl, you forgot to make your offering to Saint Milli and Vanilli, blessed patrons of talentless frauds and audacious hacks.

So many questions will be answered in my absence: Who will win the world series? Who will be our next President? Who will pay my rent? Where, exactly, am I going?

So wish me happy election observing; I've got a song in my heart and a look on my face that says, "I'm carrying $1500 cash; mug away!"

*NOTE: The following was, I think, a line from some martial arts or boxing movie in which the fighter gets hurt and cries "Petey, my heart" to his trainer or something. My old roommate thought that "Petey my heart" would be a perfect twee band name, and boy is she right.