Putting off work.

I feel bad about that, since after all work is the reason I'm stuck here, and I should be doing as much of it as possible. But the prof is asking me to compile an MLA bibliography for...articles about the TV show "Six Feet Under." I'm not asking why, though I probably should. A good question to ask: What the fuck does this have to do with dead Russian poets? Well, that's my professor for you. Anyway, I can do the bibliography in half an hour with my eyes closed, and I'm miraculously finished with slogging through pages and pages of essays and correspondence. It's funny, some of the letters I read--from esteemed Russian journalists and poets, no less--seemed like they could be notes passed in high school. This one author really hated the poet I'm researching because he thought (wrongly) that the poet had stolen from his friend's wife. So he wrote all these letters to Turgenev bitching about him. Like "He's a swindler and a scoundrel and a bastard, but I like his poetry!" And then Turgenev's like, "Well, this guy, who you hate so much, absolutely loved this essay you wrote." And then the other guy's like, "What makes you think I hate him? I don't hate him. But how can you be friends with him when he's such a horrible person?" Well, I think it's amusing anyway.
Soooo...to work, and if I get done quickly, maybe back into LA to find a birthday present for the brother.
On a non-related note: If Fantasia doesn't win on American Idol tonight, I'm gonna be pissed. I caught the last few minutes of AI before the (excellent) season finale of "24" yesterday, and she was really amazing, especially compared to the other girl. I almost voted before I came to my senses and realized what kind of person that would make me--an American Idol voter. Eeeeew.
Should I be depressed that barely anyone comments on this thing, or happy that I have friends who don't feel the need to obsessively comment on blogs? Hmm.