I was terribly grumpy today.

Not that I'm usually a big ball of sunshine and ooohlookatthatprettykittyridingtheunicornonthatbigrainbow type of person or anything, but today's lack of joy was a *tad* more noticeable to all.  Including that old lady in traffic that I flipped the bird to… totally on accident, of course.

At first, I chalked up said grumpiness to the odd case of plague running about Shakepeare-ville that turns normally lovely little children into bonafide zombie spawn of Satan (more on that tomorrow)…

But then I realized that it probably was actually due to the fact that that stupid Confessions song has been stuck in my head non-stop since the Glee kids did the mash-up competition a few weeks ago (If you have no idea what I'm talking about here, get thee to a Hulu or  a Fancast or wherever it is that you snake free t.v. from posthaste.)…

And, last night, it was the LOUDEST tune from the one song soundtrack that played continuously throughout my otherwise lovely dream about…

well…

let's just say that Chuck Bass (please see the if you have no idea what I'm talking about disclaimer from paragraph four) paused at a very inopportune moment to tell me to, "stop singing that rubbish and pay attention here."

Seriously, folks, the phrase "chick on the side" has passed through my lips so many times at this point that I've picked up my car keys on more than one occasion to drive her to the clinic my damned self.

I need help.

So much so that I'm about two seconds away from pulling out the Rent soundtrack.

And then it's all just downhill and dead unicorns from there.

[This is the part of the post where someone who didn't love you would include an audio player that automatically started playing through a looped playlist consisting of Confessions [Part Whatever.. who the hell names their songs in parts... smells like douchebaggery if you ask me] and La Vie Boheme… You may thank me in a comment below. ]