I feel like posting just to prove that I am not watching the Super Bowl. I could not care less about it. The only Super Bowl I have ever watched was the one the Rams won four(ish) years ago, which was only fun because I got to prance around in the knowledge that for once, my team didn't suck. (I'm also a big fan of the L.A. Clippers.) Even then, I couldn't bring myself to actually focus on the game. I have no patience for football. I'm a baseball kid.

My hair is getting long and bothersome. Sometime soon I will get it cut, and then I will be foxy. Grr. Foxy Allison. I like the word "foxy."

An update on the living-in-squalor front: the digital camera has been found! It was, of course, in an otherwise empty Target bag behind the floor lamp that's between my refrigerator and bed. Where else would it have been?

Update No. 2 on the L.-I.-S. situation: I fixed my PlayStation. You didn't know it was broken, but it was. The lid didn't close right; I had to put books on top of it whenever I wanted to play Sheep (which would be the greatest game ever if it had a save function). I basically just poked around inside and pushed random things until it closed properly again. This is one of the benefits of being five years behind everyone else in the technology market--you can afford to risk breaking stuff.

I know you were also worried about my amaryllis; I'm happy to report that it bloomed yesterday. It's two feet tall with a big pink-and-green flower. "Thank God it's all right," you're all sighing. He appreciates your concern.

Yeah, yeah, you know I wanna smash it up. I can't explain why I'm linking to The (International) Noise Conspiracy. I've liked them for a couple of years; they're wildly pretentious, but damned if their stuff isn't catchy. I also don't know why they put the tambourine player in front on the splash page. 'Cos she's a girl, I guess. She plays other things too, but I just like referring to tambourines. Smash it up.