And belatedly I rec shrift's amazing Ocean's Eleven story (Danny/Rusty). I'm not even that fond of either Brad Pitt *or* George Clooney, but I liked the movies very much and I love this fab little story.
Meanwhile. I have apparently been PMSing for a solid week, what with the sleeping and the unbelievable amounts of sugary foods I've been eating--torte, pie, gelato, candy bars candy bars candy bars, fudge. I think to myself: maybe my body knows what it needs, because even though I also missed a week of working out (sinus infection), my weight didn't go up. Of course I'll probably get to the gym tonight and by one of those freakish physiological shifts, I'll have gained 37 pounds in the last two days.
I am hyper too. I think it's finally the doubled Prozac dose kicking in. I AM SO HYPER THAT I ABUSE THE CAPSLOCK! And talk 55 MPH to my coworkers. (Cow-orkers, as sherrold says.) Plus as you'll have noticed, there was that multiply-orgasmic spurt of writing I just finished. And I've been getting work done at work! Not as much as I need to, but thankfully enough to make my manager's face a little brighter. Or maybe that was because I was giddy and gesticulating throughout my last one-on-one.
In lieu of an entire insane quiz, I offer you this question:
Why do fools fall in love?
D. fairy-tale stereotypes of romance in mass-media popular culture perpetuating false images and scripts of love