Surprisingly, I have no real inspiration to write any kind of post-Emmy wrap up. I wasn't even moved to enter my predictions, especially after reading Dora's, because I basically agreed with everything she said anyway. I was completely excited at all the West Wingers who got up there, and I was glad that that Karen and Jack from Will & Grace won, because they make me laugh out loud more than anyone on any sitcom ever has. The new voting system seemed to really make a difference as far as getting the most deserving person to win, but it didn't really make the show any more exciting.

I enjoyed David Duchovny in the bathroom, of course. And the Survivor thing at the beginning was the funniest part of the whole show.

I hurt myself on Thursday night.

Like an idiot, I hurt myself. I was oh-so-brilliantly using a steak knife to dig wax paper out of a frozen hamburger when WHAMO, the knife flew from the edge of the burger right into my left hand, that fleshy part underneath the thumb.

I've never seen blood spurt like that.

I shoved it under the faucet, but blood kept pouring out of it. I wrapped it in about fifteen paper towels and held it over my head for a few minutes, praying that I wouldn't see blood coming through the paper towel because, as of five days ago, I have no health insurance.

Eventually, it did stop bleeding. I called my mother to find out if she thinks I need stitches, which of course she doesn't, because my thumb would have to be hanging off my hand before she would think so. The gash is only about a half an inch long, and while I could see things I probably shouldn't when it gaped open, I could still move my hand normally, so I knew I didn't sever a tendon or anything.

Bah. I went to the drug store and bought Advil, gauze, tape, Neosporin, butterfly bandages, and a pint of frozen yogurt. Fortunately, I was still able to type, because I finally got off my unemployed ass and made a date with a temp agency for Friday morning. I probably wouldn't have been able to pass the typing test with just one hand.

I did pass, with the highest Word scores the temp lady had ever seen. I don't know if temp agencies just have really low expectations or what, but I always seem to impress them.

So I'm starting work next week, just random gigs, while I kick off the official job search.

I have to say, I'm more than a little trepidatious about it. For a whole host of reasons, all of which boil down to the fact that I'm absolutely terrified. All through law school, I looked out at the light at the end of the tunnel and thought about how great it would be to finally have a job with some responsibility, something I've never had before.

And now, here we are, and I'm immobilized.

That can't be good. The bitch of it all is that I can't afford a therapist until I get a job.

It was not a happy day in Elizabeth's World of Few Sports Interests. First of all, the Chiefs blew a 7-point lead with a minute to go, then lost in overtime. I'm not actually that huge of a fan, but they've lost every pre-season game plus the season opener, so it would be nice if they could actually win one.

The second, and far more tragic, was the fact that Pete Sampras got his ass kicked in the finals of the U.S. Open. Granted, Marat Safin is a beautiful thing, and I didn't mind watching him play, but it would have been nice if Pete had at least showed up to the match.

My computer seems to be all extra-crashy lately. I'm buying it drinks and letting it watch the Sci-Fi Channel and whispering sweet nothings into its speakers, begging and pleading for it to hold out just a little while longer. If I lost my computer, my life would lose what little meaning it has left. Please, please, please, you've given me three wonderful years, just hang on for a few measly months. Then I promise I'll retire you and let you crash all you want.