Filler Friday

An amalgamation of the things rattling through my head today:

• So, my mouse died two days ago. I should clarify that to be a computer mouse, not a pet mouse that I might have had, or one that was living in my house against my will. I guess 6 years is an appropriate lifespan for a mouse, but I still miss it. Particularly since I went to three different stores and couldn't find a single mouse that was of comparable quality that did not cost over $60 dollars.
  
  Instead, I had to resort to online shopping, and due to shipping times I have spent the last 2 days using my backup mouse (AKA, the original Dell mouse that came with my boss's 1994 desktop computer, which I have in my closet for some reason.) Do you remember what mice were like in 1994? It's terrifying. I will never take my scroll wheel for granted again.
  
  
• In that Fergie song Glamorous, the line is "After the Grammys, I like to go out with my family/Sipping, reminiscing on days when I had a Mustang."
  
  It's not "when I had a mustache," as I had so remembered it in my mind. I don't know why this bothers me, but it does. Also, I'm not sure which part bothers me more - that I remembered it wrong in the first place, or the fact that I never questioned why she used to have a mustache.
  
  . . . I don't know, leave me alone, I'm tired.
  
  
• I went to the automated car wash yesterday because my Jaguar looked like it had been through a sandstorm, after the last mini-rainstorm we had that knocked the remaining pollen from that devil tree outside my apartment. In line in front of me was a truck that had one of those huge bike mounts attached to the back. When the flailing wheels of scrubbers tried to clean the back gate of the truck, the left flailer got lodged in the mount, and in retaliation for this, the entire machine attempted to drag the truck off the track and into the shadowy recesses to the side. Eventually the flailer was dislodged without destroying itself or eating the truck, so normally this wouldn't even be a story worth relating.
  
  But apparently the owner of said truck must have had some super deep seated fear of automated car washes, because he absolutely lost his shit when the machine got stuck and started pulling against the truck. Not like angry losing it, like scared losing it - huge terrified look on his face as if a T-Rex was gnawing on the back end of the car, what looked like a shriek of horror, and then randomly slamming his hands down on his horn. As if maybe the mechanical cleaning device would be all "Oh, a loud noise, I should stop what I'm doing."
  
  It was definitely the strangest thing I've seen in at least 5 days.
  
  
• So I've been rewatching the third season of How I Met Your Mother (because I have absolutely no life, and scheduled TV is junk right now) and it's so strange. It's got to be the most wildly uneven single season of TV I've ever seen, short of the 5th season of Buffy. Some utterly garbage episodes, immediately beside others that qualify as some of the best in the whole series. I think the strike worked really hard against them, but I'm still not sure if that's a sufficient excuse. But anyways, the real thing I want to talk about is how shockingly sad the whole Barney/Ted breakup thing is over those last few episodes of the season. It was actually kind of moving, which is just super weird. So help me if Neil Patrick Harris does not win that Emmy.
  
  
• Oh, and in conjunction with that, have I recently mentioned my ungodly crush on the NPH? Because damn. And it's just been further increased by the whole Dr. Horrible Sing-along Blog thing, in which he is just too perfect for words, and is also terribly cute, and is also the saddest thing I've seen since Atonement.
  
  I refuse to get suckered in by Joss Whedon ever again. I have a little post-it now right next to my computer. It reads "Don't trust Whedon when love is involved. It's going to end horribly and you're going to cry." And then there's a little picture I drew of a sad faced beaver next to a tombstone.