[Inside_Dierdre:_Angst!]

OMFG, you guys. I am SO BUMMED.

Here I am in Paris, the city of love, and dudes, as you know, I am TOTALLY in love. Thing is, the magnificent creature who has my heart in his sweaty pocket is currently galavanting around North America in rock star pants and eyeliner, and that totally undeserving wretch, Gabriel "Hate Personified" Miller gets to go see him do it two times, while I languish away in dreary weather, go to school with Frenchies, and work on art projects that are going nowhere. Meh!

Please picture me staring out the window of my Parisian garrett at pretty grey buildings against a grey sky with a single desolate tear rolling down my cheek, while Trent and his hot little ass ROCK SPORTS ARENAS WITHOUT ME.

And, you know what really sucks? Even though I think about Trent really, really  hard -- and when I say that, I mean both that I think hard, and that I think about his hot, hard little rig -- every night, before I go to sleep, I can't seem to manage to make him to visit me, EVEN IN MY DREAMS! Fucking Hell! What gives? I'm telling you, dear readers, sometimes unrequited love is high-minded and glorious, and other times, it just aches you to the core, and not in that good way. I seriously need to stop watching my little video of Trent singing "Non-Entity" over, and over, and over again, because seriously, HE IS KILLING ME.

On top of that, Gabriel keeps telling me all the time about the awesome little videos, sexy pictures, and cool features of The Spiral, and how Trent posts bitchy little messages there about people pretending to be him in the chat room 'n shit, but I can't even join it, because here in my garrett, everything is beautiful, but on my students' budget, it's all I can do is eat baguettes and apples, pretend to be an artist, and pine in vain; because there is no way I can dust off the fucking sixty bones to be a card-carryingly hopeless Trent Reznor devotee.

(Pfft! Like I need a freaking CARD.)

My dear readers, I am feeling LEFT OUT. I just know that vindictive little shit, Gabriel, will not give me the minutely detailed and unfiltered by hate description of every single minute of the concert that I need TO FUCKING SURVIVE. I'm counting on the rest of you to take up the slack in that regard, and to give me breaking news on all the bitchy hotness in Spiral land; because here in Paris, I am suffering the tortures of those who are damned to knowing that every night Trent "Sparklepants" Reznor is walking out onto a stage to be greeted by thousands of people giving full-throated voice to their love, and that mine is not among them. I can assure you, the suffering is acute.

And, Trent? Hurry up and get that booty over here! I can't stand it anymore!!!

Sob.