shenanigans!!!!!! Earlier on in our blogging career latte and i decided that we only have interesting adventures every once in a blue moon, but i had one last night.
in following with the worst realization ever, i had decided i was completely finished with boys; total celibacy is the only way for me to exist without drama. anyway, last night too was a drunk night, for i am of course a burgeoning alcoholic. have you ever had jungle juice? it's fruit punch filled with everclear, which i recently learned is illegal in many states (but not maryland), because it is either 75.5% alcohol, or 90% alcohol and thus is incredibly dangerous to consume, particularly because it doesn't really taste like anything so you can drink a lot, which i did. In addition to rum and wine. (this must end. it will end.)
anyway to make a long story short, i hooked up with (i don't like that phrase. it makes me feel like a prostitute.) the boy i swore i would not. This should upset me more, since it ran totally contrary to my scheme, only afterwards i officially lost part of my glasses which are now broken and another friend virtually whored me out in order that he might conduct an amusing social experiment on this visiting boy who called himself "the paragon of acting talent." so i have more important things to worry about than hooking up (ugh) with someone i shouldn't have. this boy is the most self-centered person ever, and so i felt no guilt in watching other people make him squirm.
it was a rather amusing exploit, and my virtue and my dignity remained almost completely intact, until my friend had a "lets pull down our pants to see who's bigger" contest and i was left awkwardly staring at the ceiling until they had finished. I don't know why i blithely go along with his social experiments. i should really grow a sense of independence. alas, too bad for me. i am simply a follower.
bagels
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The Worst Realization Ever
The worst realization in the world to have, particularly when you are riding the red wave and therefore easily subject to emotional floods, is that you do in fact sort of like the boy you drunkenly slept with simply because he is a beautiful, beautiful specimen of mankind, even though he is kind of a jackass. But it doesn't matter, because you find him endearing and amusing, and you can't deny that you like him because you feel incredibly territorial when any other girl goes near him except your closest friends, and you think that hey, he might have been your biggest mistake. But he is your mistake. Yours alone. And you don't want anyone else to be able to claim that.
Fuck my life.
Bagels
UPDATE: as of june, this feeling has completely gone out the window. any fondness for said person has completely evaporated. it took a while, but in the end he was just not worth it.
Fuck my life.
Bagels
UPDATE: as of june, this feeling has completely gone out the window. any fondness for said person has completely evaporated. it took a while, but in the end he was just not worth it.
A Bird Shat On My Head This Morning
It did. This morning was incredibly typical of the chaotic uselessness that is my life. You see, last night my gay friend and some of my other friends and i all chipped in for four six packs of various fruity mikes drinks, because they are tasty and delicious. Having said that, it is not a good idea for me to drink an entire six pack by myself in about forty minutes, because then i pass out on my bed for ten hours and wake up in the following state:
Hungover, with no idea where my phone has gone.
Usually, i have a vague idea of the room my phone has wandered off to after a night of drinking. Usually, its in my friend grace's room, underneath a pile of her laundry. One time it was lodged behind a bed that was not mine. And one time it was in my friend hannah's shoe.
But not today. Today, i meandered about campus, checking with security, the coffee shop, in addition to all the usual places. I decided sadly that i must have mistook it for a bottle last night and thrown it out. As I shuffled back along to my dorm, passing underneath a massive oak or maple tree, i can't really tell right now, i felt a large ping! on my head, and i realized that a bird had shat berry remnants onto my head.
Perfect, think i to myself as i run upstairs, shielding my head with my coat. As I wash the bird shit out of my hair, I begin to tear up. Partly because i am mid-menses and lack emotional stability, partly because i lost my phone and a bird has just shat on my head, partly because i have homework to do and i am not doing so well, and partly because i am growing tired of waking up hungover. It is not pleasant. I stayed in fetal position for about an hour this morning, positive that if i made any attempt to get up i would instantly collapse in a gelatinous state and die a gruesome death.
Yet i continue to drink myself into a stupor at least twice a week. Why do i do this? Boredom. a need to feel i am participating in the social environment. To build a little tolerance so that I DON'T GET TRASHED AFTER ONLY SIX LEMONADES. (That is just so lame, its not even funny.) Usually i stay out of shenanigans. Usually i just run around laughing and hugging people for a few hours before going to bed. Only a couple times has drinking ever really blown up in my face. We shan't go into those details.
I should probably stop before i kill myself or do something spectacularly stupid. Mayhap i'll get around to reevaluating my life, but i have greek homework to do first.
Peace out.
bagels
btw, i found my phone. it was underneath a sock underneath my dresser. How it got there i have no idea.
Hungover, with no idea where my phone has gone.
Usually, i have a vague idea of the room my phone has wandered off to after a night of drinking. Usually, its in my friend grace's room, underneath a pile of her laundry. One time it was lodged behind a bed that was not mine. And one time it was in my friend hannah's shoe.
But not today. Today, i meandered about campus, checking with security, the coffee shop, in addition to all the usual places. I decided sadly that i must have mistook it for a bottle last night and thrown it out. As I shuffled back along to my dorm, passing underneath a massive oak or maple tree, i can't really tell right now, i felt a large ping! on my head, and i realized that a bird had shat berry remnants onto my head.
Perfect, think i to myself as i run upstairs, shielding my head with my coat. As I wash the bird shit out of my hair, I begin to tear up. Partly because i am mid-menses and lack emotional stability, partly because i lost my phone and a bird has just shat on my head, partly because i have homework to do and i am not doing so well, and partly because i am growing tired of waking up hungover. It is not pleasant. I stayed in fetal position for about an hour this morning, positive that if i made any attempt to get up i would instantly collapse in a gelatinous state and die a gruesome death.
Yet i continue to drink myself into a stupor at least twice a week. Why do i do this? Boredom. a need to feel i am participating in the social environment. To build a little tolerance so that I DON'T GET TRASHED AFTER ONLY SIX LEMONADES. (That is just so lame, its not even funny.) Usually i stay out of shenanigans. Usually i just run around laughing and hugging people for a few hours before going to bed. Only a couple times has drinking ever really blown up in my face. We shan't go into those details.
I should probably stop before i kill myself or do something spectacularly stupid. Mayhap i'll get around to reevaluating my life, but i have greek homework to do first.
Peace out.
bagels
btw, i found my phone. it was underneath a sock underneath my dresser. How it got there i have no idea.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Big News
so i just spent a wonderful week in indiana and have some intriguing news. i'm also slightly distracted, so i'm just going to lay it out right here.
this boy that i <3 has two best friends: Adam and Brett.
Brett's parents have two houses, one that they live in and another that they lease. the current resident's lease is up in April, so Brett's parents are leasing the house to Brett, Adam, and Steve for only $900 a month. when they're living together, they're all going to be going to school and working.
when i visited they all seemed to like me a lot, and one of the last nights i was there, they suggested that if i was interested in moving to Indi to be closer to Steve and go to school there, that i could live in the house with them. and even if i didn't have enough money to pay rent right away or couldn't find a job right away, they would support me until i got used to the area.
this is so tempting i can barely stand it.
here's why: in Maryland i have no friends. i sit alone almost all day until i have class, have no one to talk to there, come home and sit alone again. for hours. by myself. i'm sick of my job at the library because i have no friends there anymore. i hate that i'm so alone, but i'm too shy and insecure to actually go out and try to make friends because i'm really pretty naive. i hate being drunk and i get sick from smoking anything, so that strikes any chance of my making friends in a fucking college full of drunk stoners.
in my house i get nothing done. i sit and watch tv all day and neglect homework/papers/school related work. if i need to get something done i have to leave.
my mom just came in my room and yelled at me for being lazy. shocking. that's another thing:
she never lets me do anything on my own. i have done nothing for college. when i try to do laundry she tells me it's wrong, and rather than explaining how it's wrong, she just fixes it and does everything herself.
how am i supposed to evolve as a successful human being if she's sitting there doing everything for me and not allowing me any room for personal experience. she bugs me to go out, and when i do she's upset that i won't call her every 3 seconds.
when i was in Indi she was texting me about a friend's pregnancy, and when i asked what the baby's sex was she started freaking out because she 'thought that i already knew', so OBVIOUSLY her first reaction is that i have been kidnapped and some stranger is faking being me. so she calls. i screen the call. she calls again. three times. i screen them again. i text her telling her i'm with people and can't talk. she replies that this worries her and she's afraid i'm in trouble. i call her and tell her that i'm perfectly fine. she is panicking, saying that this answer worries her. i tell her she's being ridiculous and hang up.
how the hell am i supposed to deal with that. seriously.
if i move out and start over, i can change. if i'm in a house with three other people in school, i'm more likely to get work done.
i can get away from my mother. that's enough.
my plan is to move out there for fall semester, after summer. i wouldn't start school right away, though. i'd get a job and work for a few months, try to get used to the area and meet some new people. i'd start school as a transfer in the spring semester and just start over. towson is killing me. i cry almost every night because of how horrible everything is. i just have to get away.
sorry for being emo,
latte.
this boy that i <3 has two best friends: Adam and Brett.
Brett's parents have two houses, one that they live in and another that they lease. the current resident's lease is up in April, so Brett's parents are leasing the house to Brett, Adam, and Steve for only $900 a month. when they're living together, they're all going to be going to school and working.
when i visited they all seemed to like me a lot, and one of the last nights i was there, they suggested that if i was interested in moving to Indi to be closer to Steve and go to school there, that i could live in the house with them. and even if i didn't have enough money to pay rent right away or couldn't find a job right away, they would support me until i got used to the area.
this is so tempting i can barely stand it.
here's why: in Maryland i have no friends. i sit alone almost all day until i have class, have no one to talk to there, come home and sit alone again. for hours. by myself. i'm sick of my job at the library because i have no friends there anymore. i hate that i'm so alone, but i'm too shy and insecure to actually go out and try to make friends because i'm really pretty naive. i hate being drunk and i get sick from smoking anything, so that strikes any chance of my making friends in a fucking college full of drunk stoners.
in my house i get nothing done. i sit and watch tv all day and neglect homework/papers/school related work. if i need to get something done i have to leave.
my mom just came in my room and yelled at me for being lazy. shocking. that's another thing:
she never lets me do anything on my own. i have done nothing for college. when i try to do laundry she tells me it's wrong, and rather than explaining how it's wrong, she just fixes it and does everything herself.
how am i supposed to evolve as a successful human being if she's sitting there doing everything for me and not allowing me any room for personal experience. she bugs me to go out, and when i do she's upset that i won't call her every 3 seconds.
when i was in Indi she was texting me about a friend's pregnancy, and when i asked what the baby's sex was she started freaking out because she 'thought that i already knew', so OBVIOUSLY her first reaction is that i have been kidnapped and some stranger is faking being me. so she calls. i screen the call. she calls again. three times. i screen them again. i text her telling her i'm with people and can't talk. she replies that this worries her and she's afraid i'm in trouble. i call her and tell her that i'm perfectly fine. she is panicking, saying that this answer worries her. i tell her she's being ridiculous and hang up.
how the hell am i supposed to deal with that. seriously.
if i move out and start over, i can change. if i'm in a house with three other people in school, i'm more likely to get work done.
i can get away from my mother. that's enough.
my plan is to move out there for fall semester, after summer. i wouldn't start school right away, though. i'd get a job and work for a few months, try to get used to the area and meet some new people. i'd start school as a transfer in the spring semester and just start over. towson is killing me. i cry almost every night because of how horrible everything is. i just have to get away.
sorry for being emo,
latte.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Everything I Wish I Could Do, Preferably Not on This Coast.
Ok. So I was at work this afternoon, on desk while various middle aged women came in, wielding wet umbrellas like swords and breathlessly demanding to know why they had 60 cent fines on their cards. After spending an entire hour reassuring at least eight different women that 60 cents was the most they would have to pay on their overdue romance novel, I retreated to the staff room, where i heated up my bowl of annie's easy mac (much tastier than kraft, IMO.) and began reading Me and Mr. Darcy, a novel only about two years old or so in which a New York bookstore manager named Emily goes to England on a Jane Austen tour, only to meet the real Mr. Darcy and have a very Pride and Prejudice like adventure.
I thought about it all afternoon, as I shelved and sorted books onto carts, as I answered phones from frantic patrons swearing they'd returned that copy of the abomination that is Twilight, and I realized that Emily Albright is me, only from New York, not Baltimore, and 29, not 19. I realized, as I drove home in the typically Baltimore humid rain, that I crave adventure in my life. I am sitting in Maryland, wishing I had the courage to go to England or at least to the opposite coast! I didn't even leave the state for school! And while this has proved most convenient in many ways, and while I would not change a single thing about my college, I want to get out. I've never left the East Coast; I have traversed it extensively: Baltimore, DC, Richmond, Philly, New York, Boston, Orlando, to name a few. I've been all over the east coast, cities aside, and i love it. with every fiber of my being i love the east coast. but i am also bored to tears with it. they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and i feel a good dose of the not-east-coast would do wonders for my soul, which lately is more confused than an adolescent boy.
i must get out. this spring i am going with my friends (unfortunately, my dear latte is not among them, which grieves me as she is one of the only truly sane people i know) up to foxboro, MA. There we shall spend three days cavorting about, watching lacrosse. i am excited, but it is still the east coast. Am I doomed to never leave? Am I?
I should hope not. One day, I will go out west. My list of cities and towns and regions will expand. And one day, i will go to Europe. I shall see all those places i read about in my books but never get to visit because i am too poor and too unmotivated. I will have a proper adventure, dammit.
My plan for the future is thus: I will graduate college, hopefully not failing out of the one i currently attend because i am far too silent in class (believe me, this is extremely important in measuring success and determining whether or not you are allowed to return. i worry. a lot.), then i shall take a year or two off and work, then travel extensively throughout the US and Europe. The nice thing about school is i have friends from Juneau to Miami and from Boston to Los Angeles, so i will always have someone to pester when i'm traveling. After which, i will attend graduate school and become a top archivist/librarian, working at such prestigious locations such as the library of congress and the Smithsonian, and then some equally venerable library/museum in London will demand i be employed for them. Then I'll move to England for a while, all the time keeping my options open in case i can work in italy or france, or australia. (although what i'd do in australia im not certain.)
And my life will rock.
Well, I think it will rock.
Excuse my rant, Latte.
Ta,
Bagels.
I thought about it all afternoon, as I shelved and sorted books onto carts, as I answered phones from frantic patrons swearing they'd returned that copy of the abomination that is Twilight, and I realized that Emily Albright is me, only from New York, not Baltimore, and 29, not 19. I realized, as I drove home in the typically Baltimore humid rain, that I crave adventure in my life. I am sitting in Maryland, wishing I had the courage to go to England or at least to the opposite coast! I didn't even leave the state for school! And while this has proved most convenient in many ways, and while I would not change a single thing about my college, I want to get out. I've never left the East Coast; I have traversed it extensively: Baltimore, DC, Richmond, Philly, New York, Boston, Orlando, to name a few. I've been all over the east coast, cities aside, and i love it. with every fiber of my being i love the east coast. but i am also bored to tears with it. they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and i feel a good dose of the not-east-coast would do wonders for my soul, which lately is more confused than an adolescent boy.
i must get out. this spring i am going with my friends (unfortunately, my dear latte is not among them, which grieves me as she is one of the only truly sane people i know) up to foxboro, MA. There we shall spend three days cavorting about, watching lacrosse. i am excited, but it is still the east coast. Am I doomed to never leave? Am I?
I should hope not. One day, I will go out west. My list of cities and towns and regions will expand. And one day, i will go to Europe. I shall see all those places i read about in my books but never get to visit because i am too poor and too unmotivated. I will have a proper adventure, dammit.
My plan for the future is thus: I will graduate college, hopefully not failing out of the one i currently attend because i am far too silent in class (believe me, this is extremely important in measuring success and determining whether or not you are allowed to return. i worry. a lot.), then i shall take a year or two off and work, then travel extensively throughout the US and Europe. The nice thing about school is i have friends from Juneau to Miami and from Boston to Los Angeles, so i will always have someone to pester when i'm traveling. After which, i will attend graduate school and become a top archivist/librarian, working at such prestigious locations such as the library of congress and the Smithsonian, and then some equally venerable library/museum in London will demand i be employed for them. Then I'll move to England for a while, all the time keeping my options open in case i can work in italy or france, or australia. (although what i'd do in australia im not certain.)
And my life will rock.
Well, I think it will rock.
Excuse my rant, Latte.
Ta,
Bagels.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Cloves and Clytaemestra
Well, bagels here again. This morning I woke up after a very sound night's sleep and decided that since I was so well-rested I would actually achieve things today. For example, rather than stare absent-mindedly at the television for five hours, watching CSI marathons on Spike as I am usually prone to do, I thought to myself "Bagels, it is time you start your freshman essay. Long overdue. All of your school comrades are well into theirs, and you, you have been wasting time as usual watching terribly cliched but fascinating crime shows. So today you will eat a proper breakfast (french toast) and take a shower, and drive purposefully to Borders, where you will spend at least an hour on your paper."
But first, I had to engage in a genuinely stupid activity, namely the experimental smoking of a clove cigarette. They smell like Christmas spices, which lures one into thinking that they will taste just like Christmas spices. They don't really. They taste like cigarettes. With a vaguely spicy aftertone that perhaps the experienced smoker might pick up upon, but not I. So as I am sitting on my back porch in my pajamas, puffing away on this disappointing cancer stick, I think that
A: I am not a smoker, so I feel like an imposter.
B: Clove cigarettes are still bad for you even if they smell delicious.
C: What would my mother say? (She wouldn't say a word. She'd just slap me and then cry.)
D: I don't look nearly as suave as my friends from school. I look like a dweeb.
E: They don't taste like Christmas. At all. Which is sad.
I decided that I would give the rest to my smoking friends at school. They'll be intrigued by them. And thus concluded my last foray into the nicotine world.
On to Clytaemestra. (Or Clytemnestra, depending on your translation.) So my paper is on the Oresteia, the details of which i shan't go into for fear of boring Latte and our sole other reader. I just thought I would comment that Clytaemestra is totally badass. She is insane! She sits at home in Argos, waiting for her husband Agamemnon to come back from the Trojan War, plotting her revenge on him because he killed her daughter in sacrifice. Why, you ask? The man, being a soldier and a king, was told by the gods (more specifically Artemis) that he and the Argives would not have fair winds to Troy if they did not sacrifice his daughter. So after a few brief lamentations, Agamemnon goes along with the scheme and gets his wind. Naturally, Clytaemestra gets pissed off and decides to murder him, with the help of her lover. Anyway, she gets all devious and concots this elaborate deception that basically culminates in her stabbing the shit out of her husband. Of course, she later gets killed by her son, but this is ok. Circle of life, etc.
And i did work on my paper! also there was this very annoying employee at Borders who wouldn't shut up talking to the guy behind the coffee counter. As I sipped my large strawberry italian soda and munched on my lemon bar i plotted ways to silence her. I only gave up when i realized that i didn't have any of the tools i needed in my plans, and that all my plots were illegal in the extreme. Oh well.
Anyway, perogis beckon!
Cheerio.
Bagels.
PS: Latte guess what? Last night at work I caught a certain boy lurking in the 900s section reading a book fifteen minutes before closing while he was supposed to be shelving a cart. So whilst I was merchandizing I put a handful of books I'd picked up onto his cart for him to shelve. It was a small act, but satisfying. Hope you are enjoying the midwest.
But first, I had to engage in a genuinely stupid activity, namely the experimental smoking of a clove cigarette. They smell like Christmas spices, which lures one into thinking that they will taste just like Christmas spices. They don't really. They taste like cigarettes. With a vaguely spicy aftertone that perhaps the experienced smoker might pick up upon, but not I. So as I am sitting on my back porch in my pajamas, puffing away on this disappointing cancer stick, I think that
A: I am not a smoker, so I feel like an imposter.
B: Clove cigarettes are still bad for you even if they smell delicious.
C: What would my mother say? (She wouldn't say a word. She'd just slap me and then cry.)
D: I don't look nearly as suave as my friends from school. I look like a dweeb.
E: They don't taste like Christmas. At all. Which is sad.
I decided that I would give the rest to my smoking friends at school. They'll be intrigued by them. And thus concluded my last foray into the nicotine world.
On to Clytaemestra. (Or Clytemnestra, depending on your translation.) So my paper is on the Oresteia, the details of which i shan't go into for fear of boring Latte and our sole other reader. I just thought I would comment that Clytaemestra is totally badass. She is insane! She sits at home in Argos, waiting for her husband Agamemnon to come back from the Trojan War, plotting her revenge on him because he killed her daughter in sacrifice. Why, you ask? The man, being a soldier and a king, was told by the gods (more specifically Artemis) that he and the Argives would not have fair winds to Troy if they did not sacrifice his daughter. So after a few brief lamentations, Agamemnon goes along with the scheme and gets his wind. Naturally, Clytaemestra gets pissed off and decides to murder him, with the help of her lover. Anyway, she gets all devious and concots this elaborate deception that basically culminates in her stabbing the shit out of her husband. Of course, she later gets killed by her son, but this is ok. Circle of life, etc.
And i did work on my paper! also there was this very annoying employee at Borders who wouldn't shut up talking to the guy behind the coffee counter. As I sipped my large strawberry italian soda and munched on my lemon bar i plotted ways to silence her. I only gave up when i realized that i didn't have any of the tools i needed in my plans, and that all my plots were illegal in the extreme. Oh well.
Anyway, perogis beckon!
Cheerio.
Bagels.
PS: Latte guess what? Last night at work I caught a certain boy lurking in the 900s section reading a book fifteen minutes before closing while he was supposed to be shelving a cart. So whilst I was merchandizing I put a handful of books I'd picked up onto his cart for him to shelve. It was a small act, but satisfying. Hope you are enjoying the midwest.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Airplanes and Other Madness
so there is a certain etiquette that needs to be observed while in a busy airport.
1. look ridiculously confused and open to suggestion
2. do that sort of wander walk, as if you don't really have a good idea where you're going, or, really, where you are.
3. be exceptionally polite to all airport staff, as if you are, they will be more likely to give you advice or tell you where to go next.
other than that you're really just on your own, as you can't have your wonderful friends escort you through security. another thing to be aware of is foreign travellers. see, while you have this presense of being highly approachable, airport staff aren't the only people you're going to attract.
yesterday while sitting at the gate A9, a confused (even moreso than me) middleastern woman approaches where i'm sitting reading Christopher Moore's Fool and started asking me all kinds of questions about the flight etc. not knowing anything myself, it was truly the blind leading the blind and i eventually directed her to the kind airport people behind the desk at the gate. oy.
this was also the first flight i'd been on that allowed you to choose your own seats. unfortunately, instead of being logical and choosing a good seat by either a window or in the aisle, i chose the seat in the middle. it wasn't so bad as i wasn't sitting next to anyone who smelled, was severely overweight, etc, but it was still annoying not being able to stretch my legs out to their full length (not that that's much anyway) or be able to look directly out the window when i got bored.
i finished Fool, by the way. definitely a recommended read if you enjoy satire or Christopher Moore. then again the two are basically one in the same so it's kind of silly for me to offer them as options. hm.
the flight, all in all, was decent. it was only an hour and a halfish so it was very easy and quick, and although i finished my book about thirty minutes into it, my iPod sustained me for the rest of the flight. i have this compulsion to tap my fingers to drum beats in songs, so i think i may have bugged the lady next to me, but oh well!
now i'm sitting in the hotel room after having had a nice shower, watching frasier and preparing to go out for a bagel-y breakfast. with coffee. yes, lots of coffee.
ta!
latte
also, listening to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGRWxoJtQP0
Sunday, March 15, 2009
I Want To Believe
Bagels here.
My cohort is currently cavorting about the Midwest, leaving me stranded and mostly alone for the whole of next week. But fortunately, I have found a video which amuses me. It may not amuse everyone, and by everyone I mean Latte, because she does not obsessively watch the X Files like I do, but I'm posting this anyway. I got kicks out of it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYhhh2hoL64
I absolutely adore Mulder with the fiery passion of a thousand splendid suns. He is a great philosopher, you know. He searches for the truth where others would be satisfied with sitting in their cave, content with shadows and silhouettes. But he marches on up through the cave into the sunlight! He persists in his quest for Truth, no matter how many indignities he must suffer along the way, because he is a virtuous man.
Also he is incredibly nerdy and good-looking. And I wish he and Scully would get together. In terms of the tv show. I'm not particularly interested in the movies.
I'm sure Latte is thrilled to know that her blog buddy has just a mild, mild obsession with Mulder and the X Files. Alas.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Charmingly Befuddled British Men Are Sexy
I am sorry. I cannot help but love Hugh Grant in all of his extremely awkward Britishness, and since Latte was right and I did nothing at all but take an excessively long shower filled with warmth and happiness and watch Notting Hill since it was the only thing on television, that is all I have to post really. Anyway, I don't much care if Hugh Grant was involved in those prostitute shenanigans in the mid nineties. He is still, as Family Guy once said, charmingly befuddled in each and every one of his movies, and he will always have a special place in my heart. Carry on, Hugh! Pip-pip! (I realize this picture is in fact not from Notting Hill, but from Love Actually. This is okay, for he is equally adorable in both.)
Also, it should be noted that driving to Southern Virginia at six in the morning is mildly unpleasant. Latte and I spent a good ten minutes this morning designing our dream vehicle, which was a California King bed with a sort of fence-type thing around it, bestrewn with pillows and blankets and a waterproof canopy, that flies. Inside this magic mattress there would be a coffee maker, a bagel maker, free wi-fi, and a caesar salad maker (I just added that last bit on a whim). Did I mention that it would fly? We would never have to leave the sanctuary of our warm beds in the morning for trips. One would simply program the bed to run on autopilot, and then snuggle back under the covers until the destination has been reached. It is brilliant and a flawlessly conceived design. Now if only someone could execute it.
Well, my own not so exciting mattress beckons. Cheerio!
Bagels
Men in Black/Twilight Hate? Yes please.
hello, latte here.
bagels definitely doesn't know that i'm posting this. she's probably finishing up a nap, as today's excursion to southern VA took a lot out of us. more the waking up at 5:45 am thing than anything else i'd wager.
anyhoo, i'm watching men in black II right now. it's just started, and it's already pretty creepy. i wasn't allowed to watch the first one until i was around 12, which therefore sparked an extreme interest. when i actually ended up seeing it i was rather disappointed, but Will Smith is delicious as usually.
i digress. the meaning of posting this update is to inform the masses of this brilliant deviant artist.
http://shinga.deviantart.com/art/Head-Trip-Twilight-Sucks-85504254
i was actually being a stalker on facebook when i discovered her page. a friend of mine had shown another friend of mine a little bit ago and i about died when i saw it. i know that bagels will, too.
a fellow soldier in the army against twilight! huzzah! simply a little drawing that i found wonderfully amusing. i've taken a look at some of her other stuff as well and it's all quite good.
i'm sorry if this post seems a bit discombobulated. the beauty and wit of a Mr. Smith is all consuming atm.
toodles!
latte
bagels definitely doesn't know that i'm posting this. she's probably finishing up a nap, as today's excursion to southern VA took a lot out of us. more the waking up at 5:45 am thing than anything else i'd wager.
anyhoo, i'm watching men in black II right now. it's just started, and it's already pretty creepy. i wasn't allowed to watch the first one until i was around 12, which therefore sparked an extreme interest. when i actually ended up seeing it i was rather disappointed, but Will Smith is delicious as usually.
i digress. the meaning of posting this update is to inform the masses of this brilliant deviant artist.
http://shinga.deviantart.com/art/Head-Trip-Twilight-Sucks-85504254
i was actually being a stalker on facebook when i discovered her page. a friend of mine had shown another friend of mine a little bit ago and i about died when i saw it. i know that bagels will, too.
a fellow soldier in the army against twilight! huzzah! simply a little drawing that i found wonderfully amusing. i've taken a look at some of her other stuff as well and it's all quite good.
i'm sorry if this post seems a bit discombobulated. the beauty and wit of a Mr. Smith is all consuming atm.
toodles!
latte
Friday, March 13, 2009
Greetings!
Well, it would seem as though our dear friend has convinced us to create a blog. On that note, yes, there are in fact two of us. Don't be overwhelmed just yet. Between us, we have just about the amount of adventure a normal person our age would have, so no need to feel pressured about catching up on both of our lives because they're not that interesting unless they're mushed together. And even that's iffy.
Tomorrow seems to be the exception, except we are spending it mostly together, so really it's a single adventure. Tomorrow we will be driving at a terribly early hour to fetch a dear friend in southern Virginia from school. We shall be spending many many hours on the road, journeying through over 161 miles of tedious highway down to a small town neither of us have ever been to, gather our friend and her belongings, then promptly turn around and head back home. Why? Because we are bored, and this seemed (slightly) adventurous. But we are excited, for there will be loud music. And snacks. Snacks are very important. And more importantly, there will be coffee. For coffee is the instrument of our success. Without coffee, we are doomed to die the slow, sleepy, painful death of an addict. Fortunately for us, our addiction is entirely legal and in fact embraced by the mainstream US.
However, we do have to be up ridiculously early tomorrow, so farewell.
Until next time,
bagelsandlatte
Tomorrow seems to be the exception, except we are spending it mostly together, so really it's a single adventure. Tomorrow we will be driving at a terribly early hour to fetch a dear friend in southern Virginia from school. We shall be spending many many hours on the road, journeying through over 161 miles of tedious highway down to a small town neither of us have ever been to, gather our friend and her belongings, then promptly turn around and head back home. Why? Because we are bored, and this seemed (slightly) adventurous. But we are excited, for there will be loud music. And snacks. Snacks are very important. And more importantly, there will be coffee. For coffee is the instrument of our success. Without coffee, we are doomed to die the slow, sleepy, painful death of an addict. Fortunately for us, our addiction is entirely legal and in fact embraced by the mainstream US.
However, we do have to be up ridiculously early tomorrow, so farewell.
Until next time,
bagelsandlatte
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