That Kidd Video site made me nostalgic for other shows from my childhood featuring bad pop bands. Like Jem. All I really remember about that one was that for some reason she had a secret identity, like some kind of superhero wannabe, which I never really got; and that her clueless boyfriend was a two-timing slut, bouncing back and forth between Jem and her secret identity even though he didn't know they were both her, and that this didn't bother her in the least.

I have more vivid memories of Kids Incorporated, but only up until Martika left the cast. And, fond as those memories may be, I'm not sure I can forgive the show that foisted Jennifer Love-my-wonderbra-cleavage Hewitt on an unsuspecting world.

I have to edit this post now because "blog this!" posted it but didn't actually publish it, and now blogger insists that there's nothing new to publish. Isn't it nice when things work like they're supposed to?

In 25 minutes I have to make nice, even though I feel like utter feces, because the entire department will be at my desk for cake to celebrate, among other things, my promotion, which was on paper only and, though it gave me a nice raise, didn't actually affect what I do. There better be chocolate, is all I have to say. I need some chocolate.

The last time we had our little monthly celebration get-together at my desk, my mom called halfway through to tell me to hurry up and come to the vet because my dog was dying. I ran out of here without explanation, bursting into tears as I went. Maybe if I can repeat the performance they'll stop having these little cake parties at my desk. It's only once a month, but it's still annoying as all get-out. Mainly because I can't leave and sneak back to my desk when I get bored.