NP: Jimmy Chamberlin Complex, Life Begins Again

One more before I go to bed here.

I was watching Sunday's Arrested Development -- and if you don't watch it, and it ends up getting canceled, it's all your fault -- when my roommate came home. She had biked to and from work, so she was decked out in cycling garb. Upon traipsing into the living room, she comments on how she loves her cats, then shows me her socks, with Oscar the Grouch on them.

[There's another entirely roommate-less story I could tell involving Sesame Street characters and, um, foundational garments, but I'm not going to go there.]

Needless to say, and par for the course for the evening, I'm a bit perplexed at how we got from one to the other. After voicing my confusing, I comments on how I was just looking for a segue.

Meanwhile, at that exact moment on my TV screen, GOB on a Segway. It was pretty damn funny.

Less funny, but equally serendipitous, is the fact that Mary was apparently talking all day about how she might break her foot playing soccer tonight, and I even left her a voice mail about how I'd come get her if she hurt herself (which I don't remember at all), and she went on to roll her ankle. Hopefully the ice and ibuprofen will help. And that Eric Wynalda checked her out this afternoon.