...is just a great, great word. I have always loved that word. There are some words that make your spine thrum like a bass string, and archaeopteryx is one of those for me.

Brother Adam spent the weekend jerking around New York City, sending comments to the blog from various Jerk stores. He came back with candy. I helped him out with a project before he left so he put a gift-note on my desk with three items on it:

From the "chocolate bar" in NYC - they make their own bars and wrappers. PB caramel, yum!

[and hereunder was a peanut butter caramel chocolate bar with a retro wrapper]

You may wish to share with Sarafina - Dark rum! Zooks!!

[and hereunder was a Crash Dark Rum chocolate bar]

Chick in nSoho hand-knitted this for you!

[and hereunder was a knitted Spider-Man finger-puppet]

Suddenly, my brother is a way better brother than my brother ever was before. Except oh wait: he also got me that Wii that one time. That was pretty sweet.

Last night Sarafina and I tried to one-up our ratatouille/Ratatouille night of a few months ago, by doing Insomnia/Insomnia. This didn't work out so well, because Insomnia sucks, and Insomnia kinda sucks too. You can kinda see what it would have been like without the wrong casting and a bad script, but not enough to make you love it. Nonetheless: so pretty. As was our hastily-improvised non-Insomnia dinner. So, it was a pretty good Mondate anyway.

I lost one of my notebooks recently, and the apparent result is that I have been brain-dumping like a fiend into every notebook I can find, like I'm trying to retain whatever fragments of the DNA of my recent thought processes that I can, in spite of the mishap. Honestly: pages and pages and pages of exons. It's a weird feeling, but oddly satisfying in its way, too.

I, too, am over Sarah Marshall.