NY Times: Cheney Urged NSA To Intercept Purely Domestic Calls And Emails Without Warrants After 9/11...
Is more than my little heart can take after a lousy week. I need therapy.... Music therapy.So here I am, on Rhapsody again... trying to de-wallow. I need bubbly gummy music to bring my mood back to simple insane instead of the homicidal rage I had going the latter part of the week. I am feeling hopeful that is possible. I was kissed this morning by my husband. And he held me. That hasn't happened in so long. Sadly, I am naturally suspicious of changes in behavior... so I really need to music to perk me up.
I have decided to search entirely under the category of Rock/Pop. That is right. I am listening to musical shit through Bose Headphones. I know.. it is just wrong. But tough luck.
Now all I need is an insanely hot bubble bath, a romance novel with exceptionally dirty sex, bonbons and ice cold champagne. Well, I can handle to book part anyway. If I can't actually have sex myself, I might as well read about it.
"You put the boom boom into my heart"? Timeless isn't it? Anyone reading this will be completely ashamed of me for adding this '80s classic onto my bubble gum list. I will give you a hint. It is from Rhapsody's Dance Pop subgenre. I find the names of the subgenres hysterical. Nothing like opening Teen Idols and find a picture of Paul Anka. Paul Anka? Now I know that he was back in the day, but the picture that they use of him is recent.
Ahhh, yes, this is the life. Of course, I can't avoid being bitched at. Apparently my singing is interfering with the watching of a very serious Jimmy Neutron episode. God, I hate that show. I need more Kim Possible and Drake and Josh... assuming that Drake gets better from his car crash. And what happens when Josh finally gets tall and loses the baby fat. He is going to be hot. Whew... just IMDb'd him... he is legal... young, but legal.
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