Why am I here, again?

Sitting at a public terminal at the library after doing not-necessarily-illegal-things-but-definitely-morally-objectionable stuff. I just came to check in a book and renew a book of my mom's, but yet here I am, in front of a computer with a very nice clicky keyboard. And sitting diagonally across from me at another terminal is a very scruffy-looking young Gary Oldman. If his shirt wasn't about five sizes too large for me and I can be sure he wouldn't live up to my Gary Oldman expectations, I might be more interested in the fact that he keeps looking at me.

I have a half an hour to finish up whatever it is I'm doing here and get back home for Lost. O Lost, you are my sole thought. Why do I not have an icon for you? I should change out one of the ones I just put up there in the last, oh, 24 hours and make an icon for you, Lost.

I'm babbling now, and not-Gary Oldman keeps looking at me. Wash your HAIR, EW.

What am I doing here, again?

Oooh, look, Hornblower DVDs...

OMG JOSH/DONNA

Earlier I watched The West Wing Season Two, Noel. How much do I want to worship Bradley Whitford? So much. So, so much. And it, despite being not heavy on the Josh/Donna, put me right into that mood. And, look! two vids.

I go bawl now. Actually, I go SLEEP now. Sleep is nice and good and my frieeend.