Saturday, November 05, 2005
Fun With Antisocial Behavior
Tonight I am indulging in a completely lazy, selfish night all alone. I have watched about six episodes of MADE, a little bit of I Love the 80s 3D, half of 13 Going on 30, and two separate, shockingly long portions of Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. I made some pasta (okay, well, Roommate Liz made some pasta; I reheated some pasta), ate some of the cheap Christmas chocolates I impulse bought at Dominick's today, and read all but the books section of an Entertainment Weekly (seriously, who are they kidding with the books section?). Soon I plan on lying in bed and watching Ocean's Twelve until I fall asleep, which shouldn't be long, judging from what I've heard about Ocean's Twelve. I couldn't be more excited.
Perhaps that's because last night began with a Red Bull and vodka, progressed through multiple rounds of flip cup, and ended with me cleaning my own vomit off my bathroom mirror. I wouldn't want to jump to any conclusions, but that may have had something to do with it.
It may also be because I spent my morning of indisposal teaching improv games to a rather unimpressed group of eight- to thirteen-year-olds. There's something about playing Pass the Clap (get those dirty thoughts out of your head) with a splitting headache that's less than endearing. And my gentle sobbing made the mirroring exercises extra challenging. If it hadn't been for the McDonald's bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit, I don't think I would have survived. Though I doubt they'll incorporate my anecdote into their marketing plan any time soon.
All right, off to do, well, nothing of substance.
Tonight I am indulging in a completely lazy, selfish night all alone. I have watched about six episodes of MADE, a little bit of I Love the 80s 3D, half of 13 Going on 30, and two separate, shockingly long portions of Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. I made some pasta (okay, well, Roommate Liz made some pasta; I reheated some pasta), ate some of the cheap Christmas chocolates I impulse bought at Dominick's today, and read all but the books section of an Entertainment Weekly (seriously, who are they kidding with the books section?). Soon I plan on lying in bed and watching Ocean's Twelve until I fall asleep, which shouldn't be long, judging from what I've heard about Ocean's Twelve. I couldn't be more excited.
Perhaps that's because last night began with a Red Bull and vodka, progressed through multiple rounds of flip cup, and ended with me cleaning my own vomit off my bathroom mirror. I wouldn't want to jump to any conclusions, but that may have had something to do with it.
It may also be because I spent my morning of indisposal teaching improv games to a rather unimpressed group of eight- to thirteen-year-olds. There's something about playing Pass the Clap (get those dirty thoughts out of your head) with a splitting headache that's less than endearing. And my gentle sobbing made the mirroring exercises extra challenging. If it hadn't been for the McDonald's bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit, I don't think I would have survived. Though I doubt they'll incorporate my anecdote into their marketing plan any time soon.
All right, off to do, well, nothing of substance.
