Monday, Monday.


And so another week begins, after a bustling, busy weekend. I am longing, currently, for a couple of nights at home with no plans, no phone ringing, nothing to do but sit on the couch and watch my Tivo-ed episodes of “Sorority Life” (which, after last season being totally boring, to me, is now completely addictive) or “Camp Jim,” which begins today. What is up with my current MTV show fixation? It’s sort of embarassing. And don’t even get me started on Nick and Jessica, oh, the shame.

In other news, my home state made the national media yet again, this time because Michael Peterson was found guilty on Friday. He was sort of a local celebrity, ran for mayor, city council (lost both times) and he’s also a novelist, has written several Vietnam war books. The case was a hard one: he called 911, saying his wife fell down a flight of stairs. When the paramedics arrived, there was blood everywhere and she was dead. Too much blood, they said, for her to just have hit her head. So there’s no murder weapon, and he doesn’t tesitify: his defense hires all these national experts, the trial goes on for four months (with daily updates on the news, and in the paper) and then the verdict comes down. Guilty. Life in prison.

It was one of those things that people, at least the people I know, weren’t really talking about all that much, even though it was on the news all the time. But then, on Friday, when the verdict came down, EVERYONE was talking about it. I’ve had conversations about the case with all sorts of people, all weekend long: my friends, the guy working the register at the gas station, total strangers standing in line at the mall. So bizarre.

In other North Carolina news, Clay Aiken’s album goes on sale tomorrow. Or, if you’re a total fanatic—which I am NOT, by the way—you can buy it around here tonight at midnight. There are all sorts of events planned at local malls and record stores. It’s a little scary, to be honest. His MOM will be appearing signing autographs at one event. I mean, really. It’s so funny to me that Schoolkids Records on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill will be open at midnight for Clay Aiken fans, as it’s about as close to Championship Vinyl in High Fidelity as you can get: they sell all the punk rock reissues, bands you’ve never heard of, and now…Clay Aiken? I can only imagine the scowls on their employees faces as they ring up “Measure of a Man.” Can you see Barry doing that? I don’t think so.

So there’s your NC trio for today: me, watching Camp Jim, Michael Peterson being found guilty, and Clay Aiken, taking the world by storm. Strange bedfellows, to say the least. But we’re nothing if diverse around here.

have a good day everyone!