Can anybody find me somebody to love?

I do declare! (Read in Southern accent.)

Today, I was an American hero and I let some lady stick a needle in my arm and take most of my spare blood.

It wasn't thaaat traumatic, but I still feel like I should have gotten a dinner invitation out of it. Whatever.

I don't have a lot to say here, I'm afraid, except that I am completely in love with "Glee" and their renditions of pretty much anything.

And there was a really weird moment today when S.D. and I were talking comic books and H was kind of hovering around us. It made me a little nervous, honestly, like I needed to cover up an affair or something. Not that there would be like there is a relationship to cheat on in this situation, or anything besides my frustratingly enduring interest in S.D. with which to "betray" H, but whatever. Paranoia.

Why does S.D. feel the need to TALK to me all the time about interesting things that make me like him more?

Why doesn't H feel any compulsion to talk to me whatsoever?

Sometimes, I wonder about hypotheticals, and I wonder, if I put up a mailbox that invited people to be honest to me, what would people write?

I guess I have to credit Amani for that thought, what with the very mysterious Secret Admirer letter she- I mean, someone- left in the Righteous Awesome Clubhouse of Ghostly Fun.

Anyway.

Blah-de-blah-blah.

I want my congestion to go away so I can sing better. I do love that singing.