cleaning off the grey matter lump

I know I've complained about it before (lord knows, I've complained about everything before at some point...), but I still find myself surprised (and aghast) at how I can often smell a Berkeley denizen before I actually see him or her (usually "him").

Seriously. Is it some kind of Berkeley rite or requirement that soap is forbidden to people who live in the city limits?

Is it an allergy thing? Do these people think body odor is a good thing?

What the hell?

It troubles me sufficiently that I'm still thinking about this on Monday morning. Gah.

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I was able to use a gift card to purchase a compliation volume of James D. Hudnall's "ESPers" comic series on Sunday.

Why doesn't anyone make good comics like this anymore? *sigh*

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I've spent the last few evenings watching my season four DVD set of the revived "Dr. Who" series.

I'm now on the last few eps of season four. Even though - objectively - I have to say the final two episodes are written like a 13-year-old fanboy's wet dream, I can't help but enjoy it.

It's so... over the top. It's an uber-dorkfest of "Dr. Who" geekiness and I'm still loving it on repeat viewings.

And these were written by Russell T. Davies himself. I appreciate Davies' work in reviving the series, but I've been decidedly underwhelmed at a lot of his past work in favor of other "Who" writers, such as Steven Moffat.

I have to admit, Davies got his sh*t together for the finale. Bless his heart.

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Odd. I thought I'd be sleepier than I am this morning.

How strange.