I just read an article in Jane Magazine that personified each of the major sexually transmitted diseases as various types of social and emotional pariahs. Pretty clever. I almost read the whole thing. But this is how magazine reading is for most. It's a skimmer's best friend.

What else is on Kate's mind this morning? Well, for starter's she's wondering where her shipment of cds from bmg is. She's getting tired of waiting for the remastered Funkadelics, the best of Parliament, the remastered Indigo Girls self-titled collection, The Clueless and Ocean's 11 soundtracks, and Radiohead's Kid A and Pablo Honey.

So, I am here at the office wrapping up my nerve racking week as keeper of the Publication Status Report (hereafter, PSR) while the regular keeper of it devoted her attention to other matters, like a confidential report of some type. The PSR is evil, the classic example of "rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic" (as my genius pal Sarahbina would say).

Know what I've discovered about myself? I can't even fantasize about kissing Mr. Renaissance unless I have fresh breath. My stash of the curiously strong mint had been depleted, so I restocked this morning. Let the elaborate metaphysical kissing sessions begin!

Happy weekend, everybody. You know I love you, right?