Empty Headcases and Itchy Scalps.

Empty Headcases and Itchy Scalps.

No, don't worry. I don't have dandruff. I'm just quite bored out of my mind. Saturday nights are getting more and more uneventful. On the bright side, today wasn't a total loss, because I managed to catch both Sin City and the 20th episode of The O.C., which is really one of those redeeming things in my life. Yes, a I find comfort in watching a television show about SoCal teens and their twisted lives, but everybody wants to be a voyeur of sorts (and I don't mean that in a gross way). Voyeurism, whether or not you find pleasure in it from webcams to MSN Messenger's new Windows Media Player plug-in (I'm giving them a plug of my own) is big. Big enough to find a mass following. Looking into people's lives and getting an introspective for ourselves has never been bigger. You see it in 'reality' television, and a million different things. Life is real, and that's the way we want it ordered.

Meanwhile, I'm deliberating over whether my life is its own drama. I always used to think that it wasn't, but if you put the trials and tribulations of everyone you knew as a television plot, I think we'd all be megastars in our own right. Think The Truman Show, except that it's you who's the star.

Nothing wrong with that. As Moby said, we are all made of stars.

Lord. I'm bored. My constant whining of wishing for something to blow up outside has gone unheeded since the burning of the Indian stall. I'm not asking for firecrackers...just one big explosion to keep the neighbourhood talking for a few days.

Bummer. We're almost into the lazy summer.