These days, when I'm not reading, writing papers, drinking Vitamin Water (its very fashionable, even my in vogue professor with his snazzy wardrobe and geek glasses sips it, in between talking about philosophy and French things), consuming a lot of food or practising for burlesque, I sit in my room and watch episodes of Buffy, which I used to watch surreptitiously in my own home when I was just a wee one. My parents liked to reprimand me for watching it, because, what with being all holy and religious, they couldn't help but believe it was somehow satanic and would have a terrifying influence in me. I think, looking at where I am now and the things they have come to pass, I think I can safely say that anything terrifying in my person is not the result of watching a blonde vampire slaying girl and her Scooby gang on the telly.

But whatever. The point is that someone on my school network has all 7 seasons of the show, which means I will be televisionally occupied for at least a few weeks, relieving the thrills and spills of the big Angel debacle, the Riley interlude and the big Spikey finale, with all the werewolf, ex-demon, lesbian witch loving in between. It makes me want to jump for joy.