I hate Buca di Beppo.
But I love my friends.

And I need to get my hair cut, because I'm tired of having to put it in pigtails for lack of anything more manageable. Plus, it's time for something new. I love that, these days, it always seems to be time for something new.
Scotty is such a curmudgeon in the Relics episode of STTNG. But when he says, "NCC-1701. No bloody A, B, C, or D," I feel kinship with him. And I wish life was like television, and that some studio was storing the sets of all the scenes I've lived so that I could go back to them and walk around and feel nostalgic, even if they were always empty and dusty-smelling. If there was a Ghost of Christmas Past that could just take me around on days other than Christmas and let me look at the rooms I once lived in without having some huge moralistic agenda, I would totally be up for being dragged out of bed to take that trip. If only I had a storage unit large enough to save everything that has ever happened to me. I want a Smithsonian dedicated solely to cataloguing my life. But I don't want anyone else to be able to visit it, because most of my life has been godawful embarrassing.
This episode is full of bald-faced metaphor, and I am amused that people might ever speak to each other in that fashion and not be called a name. For instance, Scotty's line, "Ah, it's like the first time you fall in love. You don't ever love a woman quite like that again," if it had been said to me, would have been met with a scowl. And then he would say, "There comes a time when a man finds that he can't fall in love again. He knows that it's time to stop." And I would roll my eyes and fight the urge to explain to him what I mean when I scowl and how it relates to clumsy use of metaphor. And Captain Picard would pull me aside sotto voce and ask me to stick around, because he was a little weirded out by Scotty and didn't want to find himself the recipient of an awkward kiss attempt. And I would tell him to pawn Scott off on Geordi, and he would totally do it.