Because of the presence of granola, Bragg’s, soy ice cream and nutritional yeast in the home, I have decided that I am now officially a hippie. But, damn, do I eat well. Have a look at some of those links if you’re not veg-inclined, you may satisfy a curiousity or two.

In other news, I received a little birthday package of “upbeat, popular karaoke smashes” in the mail yesterday — fabulous! Shortly thereafter, the little futon I ordered was plunked on the kitchen floor by a grumpy delivery man who bolted out the door before I could tip him. After a little bit of screwing on Chad’s part (heh heh), we now have a couch. It’s covered in the white and grey Ikea hearts sheet that I picked up over the summer. I’m thinking it’s a miracle that the boy even lives here — the couch is covered in hearts, the bathroom towels are pink striped, there are scented candles, and multitudinous scarves and bags draped here and there. But then, Chad does have a big, fake stuffed rooster, which is perched on the radiator right now, its feathered tail bobbing in the heat. And, hey, there isn’t much more male than a big, stuffed rooster.