Oh man, I've just seen the trailer for this awesome-looking new movie called Idlewild. It's about a speakeasy in the 1930s and was made by and starring Andre 3000 and Big Boi from Outkast - damn, I can't wait to check out the soundtrack (apparently it's not period music but vintage inspired hiphop. Sweeeeeet.). And it's got an amazing cast, inc. Terrence Howard who I LOVE (seen Hustle and Flow yet? Dooo eeet!). Anyhoo, it looks badass! Watch the trailer!

Just when you think things are looking up, you cop a swift and painful proverbial foot right in the proverbial nuts. Even worse, it's self-inflicted (not sure that's anatomically possible, but still.).

Picture this - Kate, flushed with success and newly acquired cash, having just been paid a goodly sum of money owed, struttin' down the street. I'm feeling good, I can pay off all my debts and even *gasp!* have some left over just for me...

Cut to two days later... I'm sitting on the couch, staring in disbelief at my empty wallet, wondering how I blew all of my money and only managed to pay off a tiny frac of my debts. How does this happen?? I go to a couple of birthday dinners, buy some groceries, a manicure kit and a cheap jacket, and BAM!! 300 bucks down the toilet. I still can't believe it. Note to self: call exterminators to fumigate house for money-stealing pixies.

There is an upside, however. I'm getting another fair wodge of cash from my teaching work, and have a (hopefully) hefty tax return on the way. Except this this time I'll be wearing a proverbial pair of sensible iron pants to guard again any more figurative attacks on the metaphorical happysacks. Fo shizzle.