I just realized that the majority of my conversational humor revolves around the movie Wayne’s World.

Speaking of WW, or any other acronym with a double letter, it pisses me off that there’s no way to type the little-2 symbol for “squared.” I know that you can type “W^2″ like we used to on our TI-82s in high school math, but it’s just not the same. And while it sounds funny and natural to say that something’s “squared” out loud, you can’t write “W squared.” It defeats the purpose and just doesn’t work, much like the bum microwave I insist on keeping around just in case. (To be fair, a bum microwave would be a great place to store crusty-fooded plates in the case of an emergency. The door seals so tightly that I wouldn’t have to worry about rodentia and insectia. Just infectia, I guess. Strike that. Reverse it.)

I’m a very important, busy professional and I just don’t have time for this right now. But check out what I had for a verrrrrrry hungover brunch on Saturday:

OMG. I’ve seriously never had it so good. This was Eggs Benedict but with lox instead of Canadian bacon. That’s ingenius. Originally I planned on eating something in the form of one giant carb (don’t like to stray too far from the home base) like a waffle, pancakes, or five english muffins smothered in jam…

But on many brunch menus, potatoes come with certain egg-centered (eggcellent) meals and NOT the giant-carb meals. I don’t even really love chunky potatoes, but for some reason I find the brunch experience to be more fulfilling if my order comes with potatoes. I actually feel cool when I recieve my food. Can anyone else relate to this? Maybe I’m completely nuts. Actually, that’s certain. But do let me know about the potato thing.

The restaurant was great. It’s called Yaffa, in Tribeca. Or TriBeCa, if I wanted to be all New York about it. They played the “Hallelujah” song from The O.C. and I laughed at myself and told the GSFs, who proceeded to laugh at me and inform me that it’s actually a song in real life, too. Then I tried to go to the bathroom and couldn’t figure out how to open the door, so I gave up. I’m a real go-getter. I’d do really well in a career. You should definitely hire me.

Maybe they walk more than other people, but I just don’t think that’s the reason.

I never feel like I’ve accomplished anything even when I walk a “great distance.” In order to feel like a productive workout person, I need to be rockin’ the workoutfit. Right? Sometimes, even when I put on running clothes and then just walk around my apartment moving shit around (I put the clothes on thinking they might inspire me to go running, but then they end up inspiring me to make Lipton cheesy noodle mixes, drink beers, and fall asleep) — I assume that since I have the outfit on, I’m working out. There’s something about getting up from the toilet while wearing sneakers that feels so much more athletic.

I love Thanksgiving. Favorite holiday, hands down. It’s a HOLIDAY that is DEDICATED to DINNER. That’s brilliant. Halloween is cool, too, with the candy, but come on. You have to eat dinner before you start eating candy. Usually.

I also love my new Time Warner DVR cable box, but I’m beginning to think it sort of has a crush on me, too. It pampers me so. It’s only supposed to hold 15 hours worth of recordings, but I’m convinced that my list comprises so much more than that.

The show selection process is sort of like a game - or a formal courtship. I sit with my clicker, who’s like the go-between friend in junior high who would go ask your crush if he/she liked you. I scan through the weekday morning schedules and happen upon a gold mine: old episodes of 90210 and Dawson’s Creek and Ellen’s sitcom back when it was good - and feel incredibly guilty for wanting to press the red record button but simply can’t hold back.

When I press “record,” I assume that the love of my life will deny me access for going over the 15-hour limit with an “Are you sure you want to record this program?” message. More likely, it would say something like “Are you fucking kidding? Dawson’s Creek? Pacey failing bio? Annie, come on.”

But then my love grants me the recording, again and again. I swoon, and skip to Tuesday to hunt for more bounty.

But does my love toy with me? Are all those red “recording” slots just a tease, because he’s afraid to tell me there’s actually no more space? Would DVR rather have me convinced I’m getting lucky because he knows I’ll probably never have the sudden urge to watch Wednesday morning’s recording of a 1994 episode of ER?

Oh wait. I just realized that Sex and the City completely beat me to this idea. Remember the one about Miranda and her TiVo and Jules and Mimi? I can’t believe this. She even had TiVo, and I have Time Warner DVR. I’m like the low-class version of Carrie Bradshaw right now, except I’m not giving a fake-pensive look, smoking a cigarette, or wearing a sock for a shirt or whatever the hell else she was known for. That crazy Carrie!

I’ve clearly reached a new low. I can’t delete everything, because I really did think this was an original idea and this way, I’ll have something to show for inexplicably being awake at 4:30 a.m. I think I’ll go take out my frustration on Felicity reruns.

These “orange slices” were part of my massive sugar spread during Kandy for Kerry on Halloween.

Look! They were categorized as “produce” by Gristedes. This was one of the year’s Top Halloween Moments. Other THMs included seeing a couple dressed as iPods at the parade, convincing myself that an extra-large Jello Shot Surprise constituted solid food, and the subsequent extra-large pizza enjoyed at 3 a.m… way, way too late.

Yes, I do have more pics of Halloween but I’m waiting for other people’s shots (ahem! J&N) before I post mine. Sorry. If anyone cares, I was Tangled Up In Blue. It was easy, and actually I too look easy in that photo. Gross. But my costume was nowhere near as easy as How Could You Even Ask That? - James’ sudden brainchild upon realizing he would sweat to death in his Hulk suit. (It’s what he would say if you asked him what he was. Genius.)

More on that later. It’s 5. I feel like I’m 5, rebelling against Dee and Bill and staying up as late as I can. 18 years later, I’m still really good at it! I rule!

I just had this elaborate entry about the use of the word “creepy” written up, only to have Dreamweaver unexpectedly quit on me. I fucking hate Dreamweaver. Does anyone else find it a little unnecessary and almost kind of taunting that whenever a program quits like that, you get a message reading “This program has unexpectedly quit”? Um, I know. I’m sitting here. I didn’t expect it either.