finally. we have a house. in san diego, that is. four bedroom, two bathroom. nice nice nice. my very own room. thank goodness. sharing a room with sanaz was tough. every night it was always, "oh cherry, i'm so scared of the dark. hold me." sheesh.

slowly, everything in my life is falling into place - my toilet is fixed, the cable is fixed, i have a new computer, and i will not be homeless and forced to live in a wal-mart [ala natalie portman in where the heart is] when i move back to san diego. so now the only thing missing in my life are my files from my old hard drive. yes, i am still stuck on those. and no, i will not stop whining about them until i get them. sigh.

well, vma's were good. jimmy's so adorable. very dorky and couldn't make out half the things he was singing in the beginning, but he still makes me swoon. it was pretty amusing seeing him in all those get-ups. did you notice that his mole actually got bigger when he was dressed as enrique iglesias? oh yeah, and why does eminem have to be such a moody beeyotch? ["keep booing. i will hit a man with glasses."] psh. i could take him. if i was christina aguilera (god forbid, did you see what she was wearing?!), i would've thrown the moon man at him. take that, bitch!!

anyway. what to do now. maybe i'll go back to staring forlornly at pictures of sydney and vaughn and start to descend into mad hallucinations that i actually am sydney bristow, double agent for the cia where my handler is a man named michael vaughn. only one other person knows the truth about what i do, another double agent inside sd-6, a man i hardly know - my father.