but then it became not, which is great, because now I'll have plenty of time to work on my Sunday centerpiece due tomorrow as well as my piece for Time Out Chicago, also due tomorrow.

Didn't tell you about that one, did I?

I'm doing a feature on, of all things, the local auto racing track, or where I spent my Saturday night. No, you won't see me wearing a Dick Trickle leather bomber -- a t-shirt, maybe, because "Dick Trickle," heh -- but I say that I do have a new appreciation for the sport now that I understand a bit better how it works. I'd explain it here, but that's kind of the point of my article. I'll post it after it runs. Oh oh oh oh! And Tara's going to be doing a feature on blogs coming up in September, and, as one of the few bloggers existing in NWI, she asked me to do a sidebar for it about why I blog. You know, because NWI is still just that behind on the whole technology thing.

Also, tonight is the night Cousin Crackhead's supposed to go to the station and "clear her name." (yawn) We'll see. Like I keep saying, I hope the detective is savvy enough to catch her, because she's never going to give it up on her own. B-Dubs and I talked about it when I saw him on the 4th, and he of course questioned me as to whether or not I was sure it was her, perhaps I might've been dreaming or something. And that's a perfectly valid point. It doesn't apply because I was wide awake when it all went down, but a valid point nonetheless.