We shouldn’t really drive as much as we do. Ride a bike, hop on a train, use the metro! The New York Times quoted Debbie Gloyd of Cleveland: “I can’t afford these gas prices,” she said. “They’re insane.” Now she’s taking the bus to work instead of driving her gas-eating monster of a car. Thank you, Debbie. All it took was to hurt you where you keep your wallet. Global warming? Tsk. As long as it won’t ruin our wealth.

Lower gas prices are, in the end, nothing but bad for us, as it is an incentive to ruin our planet.

The debate over whether offences, assaults and rapes are appropriate to blog about, and whether her claims are true are whooshing through not only the swedish, but also the norwegian ends of the tubes.

Commented out would like to state every bloggers right to be the boss of their own damn blog. I don’t see the relevance in other bloggers’ opinions about how far one should go in putting your private life on display to the public. At all. This blog will always continue to write about the subjects that I decide, and with that decision I owe Blondinbella the rights to do the same thing without interfering. Neither I nor anyone else - perhaps with the decision of Blondinbella herself - is the boss of Blondinbellas blog. Get real, people.

If she really was raped? I don’t know. Most things people say are true, and some are not. What does it really matter what I think of it?

One thing is for sure, though: Blondinbella is putting on a display of strength, telling anyone who will listen - and there are quite a few who will - parts of very personal things that (might) have happened to her. For that she deserves some out-commented kudos.

I’m nervous, and haven’t quite come around to opening it just yet - this is actually live blogging from the big, important event of opening the big, important envelope. A personal moment, if you will. Before I open it, I need to find a safety exit, in case the results aren’t as good as I’m hoping for, so I keep reminding myself that I was ill when I took the test. At that time there was no bronchitis, though, just a regular cold, but still. I was sick.

OK. It’s time. Still nervous, but here we go.

The “big, important” score is within the top percentile. That’s a qualifying score. Good. It’s not that big a deal, actually.

Dr. Horrible: The story of a low-rent super-villain, the hero who keeps beating him up, and the cute girl from the laundromat he’s too shy to talk to.

Joss Whedon, the creator of shows like Buffy and Firefly, has put together a supervillain musical called Dr. Horrible.

There’s a supervillain, there’s his nemesis the superhero, there’s a love story and there’s a fourtyfive-minute musical divided into three episodes, it’s indie and it’s being released on the Internet before anywhere else.

Obviously, I’m not the only one blogging about this. There are fans around.

Did you miss it? Well, it’s not too late yet. Go on, hurry, check out Dr. Horrible’s sing-along-blog. If you’re a net-head, like myself, you can also follow the project on twitter to be reminded when the third and last act will be aired in two days.

Have fun, go mad!

Code another template. Drink another cup of hot warm dark brownish liquid. Upload another file, dream another dream, wonder how many other summer days you will spend just like this one. Procrastinate. Defenestrate some random thoughts. Start blogging.

It just stopped raining. Perhaps I’ll see the doctor tomorrow.