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I have now officially dubbed ruebert "Rudolph", though "Foghorn" works, too.

Busy day today. Breakfast with Rue and Jeni, then hopefully Die Another Day with veijukka and both of our aged maternals. Then walking with my mother and/or shopping, and depending on how awake I still am, dinner with the family. Just the immediate family, mind you, since the unabridged version will be over later this week. I got drafted into helping Mom cook Thrusday. On one hand, I like Thursday because we don't have to work. On the other, I will only be getting one day's worth of holiday pay, even though I will be losing two nights worth of shifts. And on the third hand, I don't have the excuse of work to get me out of the family ordeal.

So, seeing as how nothing of consequence has happened NJO wise in a while, there would naturally be a bit of news. According to reliable sources, the title of the last NJO hardcover, written by Greg Keyes (Conquest, Rebirth) is The Final Prophecy. Interesting enough title, though I wish it were something else. It has allready spawned several ludicrous theories and fanned the flames of wild speculation. Not to mention brought all of those die-hard Anakin fans that are still in serious denial right back out of whatever hole they've been in for the last few months. As if that was the only prophecy in the series. But, according to them, it means that Anakin will be returing. How isn't quite agreed upon yet, though . Some of the most popular theories involve him possessing Ben, the always-popular potted plant reincarnation, or the new and disturbing lovechild theory. I suppose if you ignored the fact that Tahiri was a very old fourteen at the time of his death, it might work. Except that it's been over a year, at the outside, and you'd think she'd have started to show by now. Gah. He's dead, people. I mean, you can't get much more non-corporeal than that. Yes, anything's possible, but if TPTB have been building up this series and that's the climax, I'll make it my life's goal to hunt down each and every one of the writers, editors, and anyone else involved.

Breathe. It's just fiction.

Honestly, I think I take it way too seriously, considering none of it's real. Then again, it's not like it's the only thing I care about. Real life has its own fascinations. Speaking of which, if anyone reading this has access to a large amount of explosives, would you please consider using them in the immemediate viscinity of Mackey stadium? Stupid football. I mean, what a pathetic excuse for a sport. Got hardly no sleep yesterday due to game, in addition to the idiots who were stealing parking spots from people in my complex. And the damn loudspeakers. Couldn't hear the crowd cheering, but that stupid announcer was so loud I thought my radio was on. I hate football. I hate it.

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