Monday, January 31, 2011
Field Work
So I went to a special event at the Field Museum this weekend. I always kind of like to go to these things because the museum is closed to the general public, which means that you can check out the exhibits without being jostled by marauding field trips and overhearing people's inappropriate remarks about evolution. Of course, this event was largely for families and children, so I did still have to deal with packs of wee ones running past at top speed to slam their filthy hands up against the various delicate exhibits. These things are always a trade off.
They had a special exhibit about gold, which ended up being kind of a disappointment. Literally they just kind of had a bunch of gold objects strewn around the rooms. It was like, hey, here's a gold nugget shaped like a seahorse (or Solange Knowles, it is hard to tell). Here's a gold snuff box some dude kept his weed in back in Victorian England. Here's Susan Sarandon's Oscar. (I was kind of disappointed that it wasn't Sandra Bullock's, since I've really wanted to take that one back.) I mean, we get it, you can make gold into stuff. Fan- fucking -tastic.
I did see the dinosaurs again, though. And the children's buffet was really delicious. Hey, I'm certainly not above slumming it with the tots when there are mini hot dogs involved.
So I went to a special event at the Field Museum this weekend. I always kind of like to go to these things because the museum is closed to the general public, which means that you can check out the exhibits without being jostled by marauding field trips and overhearing people's inappropriate remarks about evolution. Of course, this event was largely for families and children, so I did still have to deal with packs of wee ones running past at top speed to slam their filthy hands up against the various delicate exhibits. These things are always a trade off.
They had a special exhibit about gold, which ended up being kind of a disappointment. Literally they just kind of had a bunch of gold objects strewn around the rooms. It was like, hey, here's a gold nugget shaped like a seahorse (or Solange Knowles, it is hard to tell). Here's a gold snuff box some dude kept his weed in back in Victorian England. Here's Susan Sarandon's Oscar. (I was kind of disappointed that it wasn't Sandra Bullock's, since I've really wanted to take that one back.) I mean, we get it, you can make gold into stuff. Fan- fucking -tastic.
I did see the dinosaurs again, though. And the children's buffet was really delicious. Hey, I'm certainly not above slumming it with the tots when there are mini hot dogs involved.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Upstairs/Downstairs
Did I mention that my downstairs neighbors went away for a few weeks? At first I thought they had just murdered their dogs, but then I noticed that their mail was stacking up, too, and I began to fear that they were dead. The chances of them both dying at the same time seemed small to me, though, absent a murder/suicide, which I would totally not rule out, but felt fairly certain I would have heard. Anyway, it became a moot point when the construction work started a few days into their absence; I figured that it would probably become difficult for the workers to refloor the place if they had to work around a series of corpses. It was delightful to come home every night to the smell of whatever cocktail of chemicals they use to seal floors, though. Such a shame my neighbors had to be out of town for it! They missed a lot of great headaches.
Anyway, they seem to be back now, because the garage door is getting left open a lot again and I can hear her running on the treadmill every day at 6 AM. I would stop by to ask them how their trip was, except that would involve actually talking to them, and we have a five-year streak of mutual disregard going here. I did tape some misdirected junk mail from VISA on their door, though. I'm not a monster.
Did I mention that my downstairs neighbors went away for a few weeks? At first I thought they had just murdered their dogs, but then I noticed that their mail was stacking up, too, and I began to fear that they were dead. The chances of them both dying at the same time seemed small to me, though, absent a murder/suicide, which I would totally not rule out, but felt fairly certain I would have heard. Anyway, it became a moot point when the construction work started a few days into their absence; I figured that it would probably become difficult for the workers to refloor the place if they had to work around a series of corpses. It was delightful to come home every night to the smell of whatever cocktail of chemicals they use to seal floors, though. Such a shame my neighbors had to be out of town for it! They missed a lot of great headaches.
Anyway, they seem to be back now, because the garage door is getting left open a lot again and I can hear her running on the treadmill every day at 6 AM. I would stop by to ask them how their trip was, except that would involve actually talking to them, and we have a five-year streak of mutual disregard going here. I did tape some misdirected junk mail from VISA on their door, though. I'm not a monster.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Another Year...
So I've got a birthday coming up in a few weeks. As I get older, it's harder and harder to figure out what to do for it. I wish I were still of an age for a party with a sheet cake and a basket full of Transformers at Scottie's Skateland, but I'd likely get branded a child molester. Plus, I can no longer accept having to invite every kid in my class. We have to face the fact that some people are just paste eaters for life.
In my twenties I frequently had all-out ragers for the birthday, the kind that end with a sticky floor and an awkward exchange of names the next morning, but I feel too old for that now, too. Ever since I've owned my own place, I haven't exactly felt like putting a keg in the corner of it. I do still have a bunch of left over red plastic cups, though. They're not exactly a multi-purpose item.
Maybe this year I'll just do nothing for the birthday. That is what I enjoy, after all. I can just throw on some sweatpants, tune into a Reba marathon, and eat a bucket of chicken. Isn't 33 the fried fats birthday, anyway?
So I've got a birthday coming up in a few weeks. As I get older, it's harder and harder to figure out what to do for it. I wish I were still of an age for a party with a sheet cake and a basket full of Transformers at Scottie's Skateland, but I'd likely get branded a child molester. Plus, I can no longer accept having to invite every kid in my class. We have to face the fact that some people are just paste eaters for life.
In my twenties I frequently had all-out ragers for the birthday, the kind that end with a sticky floor and an awkward exchange of names the next morning, but I feel too old for that now, too. Ever since I've owned my own place, I haven't exactly felt like putting a keg in the corner of it. I do still have a bunch of left over red plastic cups, though. They're not exactly a multi-purpose item.
Maybe this year I'll just do nothing for the birthday. That is what I enjoy, after all. I can just throw on some sweatpants, tune into a Reba marathon, and eat a bucket of chicken. Isn't 33 the fried fats birthday, anyway?
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Humiliation on Aisle Three
Going to the grocery store has recently become one of my least favorite tasks, largely due to the constant mob scene that is the Jewel on Broadway. I have on more than one occasion been trapped in a line of cars in their parking lot for upwards of half an hour and I once got rear ended by an old lady's shopping cart while trying to pick out bananas in the produce section. And then there is the checkout guy who makes you answer trivia related to your college major.
But today topped all of that. As we maneuvered the cart onto the cart escalator, a twelve pack of Caffeine Free Diet Coke somehow shook lose and fell in front of the cart. Where it proceeded to block the cart from climbing up the escalator, resulting in the repeated jolting of the cart back and forth and the loudest repeated "thunk" noise I have ever heard. As the people on the down escalator helpfully pointed and stared, the aforementioned Caffeine Free Diet Coke split open and started pouring directly into the cart escalator mechanism. And then the employees of Jewel went into full red alert mode, running around and banging on various parts of the mechanism and shouting at one another to "get maintenance," while wholly ignoring us. I tried to pretend that I was just waiting there to cash in my frequent shopper stamps for some free cookware, but unfortunately they were on to me. After an intense debate about why the bag containing the mangled Coke cans was leaking, they finally offered to replace my soda. Which took them three tries to get right. (Sorry, but I'm just not taking the Coke with the alleged vitamins in it.)
I honestly don't think I can ever show my face in that store again.
Going to the grocery store has recently become one of my least favorite tasks, largely due to the constant mob scene that is the Jewel on Broadway. I have on more than one occasion been trapped in a line of cars in their parking lot for upwards of half an hour and I once got rear ended by an old lady's shopping cart while trying to pick out bananas in the produce section. And then there is the checkout guy who makes you answer trivia related to your college major.
But today topped all of that. As we maneuvered the cart onto the cart escalator, a twelve pack of Caffeine Free Diet Coke somehow shook lose and fell in front of the cart. Where it proceeded to block the cart from climbing up the escalator, resulting in the repeated jolting of the cart back and forth and the loudest repeated "thunk" noise I have ever heard. As the people on the down escalator helpfully pointed and stared, the aforementioned Caffeine Free Diet Coke split open and started pouring directly into the cart escalator mechanism. And then the employees of Jewel went into full red alert mode, running around and banging on various parts of the mechanism and shouting at one another to "get maintenance," while wholly ignoring us. I tried to pretend that I was just waiting there to cash in my frequent shopper stamps for some free cookware, but unfortunately they were on to me. After an intense debate about why the bag containing the mangled Coke cans was leaking, they finally offered to replace my soda. Which took them three tries to get right. (Sorry, but I'm just not taking the Coke with the alleged vitamins in it.)
I honestly don't think I can ever show my face in that store again.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
TV Time
So I am really sort of enjoying the hell out of Top Chef: All Stars. I'll admit that I got a little burnt out on it after Las Vegas, when the they had that guy who looked like a Care Bear and the brothers who seemed to want to hate fuck each other. I ended up falling so far behind on the DC season before it even really got underway that I just never even bothered, although it now seems like I may have missed out on some hilarious sass courtesy of black Tiffany (not to be confused with lesbian Tiffani). And don't even get me started on Top Chef: Masters, which lacks the comical backstabbing of the original and is hosted by a scarily skinny android. Padma may not be credible playing a human being, but as a fashion disaster and spouter of catchphrases, she is unparalleled.
Anyway, the All Stars have been pretty good to me. I get to see my spunky Fraggle Carla on a regular basis, and I still love Angela despite the rather depressing weight gain. I was a bit thrown by the all-too-early exit of pretty, pretty Casey, but her relative lack of distinguishing personality traits made it a little easier to handle. And tonight they even got rid of pointy, shouty Marcel! I can hardly wait for next week...
So I am really sort of enjoying the hell out of Top Chef: All Stars. I'll admit that I got a little burnt out on it after Las Vegas, when the they had that guy who looked like a Care Bear and the brothers who seemed to want to hate fuck each other. I ended up falling so far behind on the DC season before it even really got underway that I just never even bothered, although it now seems like I may have missed out on some hilarious sass courtesy of black Tiffany (not to be confused with lesbian Tiffani). And don't even get me started on Top Chef: Masters, which lacks the comical backstabbing of the original and is hosted by a scarily skinny android. Padma may not be credible playing a human being, but as a fashion disaster and spouter of catchphrases, she is unparalleled.
Anyway, the All Stars have been pretty good to me. I get to see my spunky Fraggle Carla on a regular basis, and I still love Angela despite the rather depressing weight gain. I was a bit thrown by the all-too-early exit of pretty, pretty Casey, but her relative lack of distinguishing personality traits made it a little easier to handle. And tonight they even got rid of pointy, shouty Marcel! I can hardly wait for next week...
Monday, January 17, 2011
Golden Globes Wrap-Up 2011
There was a lot to love at this year's ceremony. Especially if you love awkward silences. I guess I'll start with the red carpet, where Natalie Portman brought the Teen Mom craze to new heights with her maternity gown/painter's smock. It was also great to see Carson Daly's permanently surprised face again. Perhaps he's remembering how he used to date Tara Reid. Also, why was Emma Stone blonde? It's bad enough that she stole Lindsay Lohan's career; does she have to steal her questionable hair choices, too? Better question: why was Justin Bieber there at all? Do they give Emmy nominations for bangs?
We also need to reflect briefly on the fact that Burlesque received not one but multiple nominations. And The Tourist, too. It seemed to be difficult for the people on the telecast to report that information with a straight face. Maybe that's why Angelina was scowling all night.
Do you think that Mila Kunis wishes there were a vault somewhere large enough to contain all of the existing copies of episodes of That 70's Show? Someone should tell her that if you're pushing for respectability, you need to keep your lesbian sex scenes to under 30 seconds.
And I understand that he's got two hit franchises now, but does that really mean that Robert Downey, Jr. never has to shower any more?
Nice that the lady from Married: With Children won. Sad that that's probably how everyone watching the show referred to her when she won.
I actually sort of forgot that Christian Bale wasn't from the US. For a minute I just sort of thought he was putting on an accent for the acceptance speech. Which actually might have been less weird than what actually transpired in that speech.
Most of the winners were pretty boring and expected. I kind of enjoy Melissa Leo, though. I feel like she's sort of secretly actually the character she played in Frozen River. I imagine her wearing lumpy sweatshirts and pancake makeup around the house while chain smoking and screaming at the kids. It's still not enough to make me see that boxing movie, though.
There was a lot to love at this year's ceremony. Especially if you love awkward silences. I guess I'll start with the red carpet, where Natalie Portman brought the Teen Mom craze to new heights with her maternity gown/painter's smock. It was also great to see Carson Daly's permanently surprised face again. Perhaps he's remembering how he used to date Tara Reid. Also, why was Emma Stone blonde? It's bad enough that she stole Lindsay Lohan's career; does she have to steal her questionable hair choices, too? Better question: why was Justin Bieber there at all? Do they give Emmy nominations for bangs?
We also need to reflect briefly on the fact that Burlesque received not one but multiple nominations. And The Tourist, too. It seemed to be difficult for the people on the telecast to report that information with a straight face. Maybe that's why Angelina was scowling all night.
Do you think that Mila Kunis wishes there were a vault somewhere large enough to contain all of the existing copies of episodes of That 70's Show? Someone should tell her that if you're pushing for respectability, you need to keep your lesbian sex scenes to under 30 seconds.
And I understand that he's got two hit franchises now, but does that really mean that Robert Downey, Jr. never has to shower any more?
Nice that the lady from Married: With Children won. Sad that that's probably how everyone watching the show referred to her when she won.
I actually sort of forgot that Christian Bale wasn't from the US. For a minute I just sort of thought he was putting on an accent for the acceptance speech. Which actually might have been less weird than what actually transpired in that speech.
Most of the winners were pretty boring and expected. I kind of enjoy Melissa Leo, though. I feel like she's sort of secretly actually the character she played in Frozen River. I imagine her wearing lumpy sweatshirts and pancake makeup around the house while chain smoking and screaming at the kids. It's still not enough to make me see that boxing movie, though.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Busy Times
The Degrassi marathon continues. Already today I've seen Jimmy struggle with his wheelchair, Liberty struggle with her teen pregnancy, and Manny struggle with having nude video of herself sent around the school. Nobody knows the struggles I've seen, frankly. I may have to quit soon, though, because the commercials for tomorrow's Fez-a-thon are starting to make me crazy. There's only so much Wilmer Valderrama one person can stand. It actually sort of makes my skin crawl that I just had to google Wilmer Valderrama to make sure I spelled it right.
Sort of a slow three-day weekend around here, obviously. So slow I actually pulled the bed out away from the wall in the bedroom and cleaned out all the dust bunnies (and a number of long-abandoned breathe right strips). And yet I'm not particularly motivated to get myself together and actually leave the house. There's snow out there, after all. And I'd probably have to put on a sweater.
The Degrassi marathon continues. Already today I've seen Jimmy struggle with his wheelchair, Liberty struggle with her teen pregnancy, and Manny struggle with having nude video of herself sent around the school. Nobody knows the struggles I've seen, frankly. I may have to quit soon, though, because the commercials for tomorrow's Fez-a-thon are starting to make me crazy. There's only so much Wilmer Valderrama one person can stand. It actually sort of makes my skin crawl that I just had to google Wilmer Valderrama to make sure I spelled it right.
Sort of a slow three-day weekend around here, obviously. So slow I actually pulled the bed out away from the wall in the bedroom and cleaned out all the dust bunnies (and a number of long-abandoned breathe right strips). And yet I'm not particularly motivated to get myself together and actually leave the house. There's snow out there, after all. And I'd probably have to put on a sweater.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Free Admission
Embarrassing Admission #1: I've watched several episodes of Wizards of Waverly Place this evening. It's gotten kind of weird. The newest season has a new, vaguely dirty-sounding version of the themesong and the inappropriate sexual chemistry between the two older siblings has never been stronger. Also Max has been turned into a girl for some reason that I missed while I was peeing? I add a question mark to that sentence because I still just can't quite believe that's really what they've decided to do here. Also, they replayed the old episode where Meredith from The Office guest stars and I can't decide whether to feel sorry for her or just be annoyed. Oh, and their "New York" soundstage is really, really fake. Worse than Friends "New York" fake.
Embarrassing Admission #2: I am also in possession of a copy of Disney's Sing It! 2 for Wii. It's sort of fantastic in that it's got a lot of terrible songs that they only play on the Disney Channel, such as half the score of Camp Rock 2 and various charts by the JoBros. In addition, they've got some Demi Lovato songs, which will hopefully help her overcome those physical and emotional issues and get back into the studio for her next album that no one will buy. And then there is Bieber. I'm becoming a real champ on One Time.
Embarrassing Admission #1: I've watched several episodes of Wizards of Waverly Place this evening. It's gotten kind of weird. The newest season has a new, vaguely dirty-sounding version of the themesong and the inappropriate sexual chemistry between the two older siblings has never been stronger. Also Max has been turned into a girl for some reason that I missed while I was peeing? I add a question mark to that sentence because I still just can't quite believe that's really what they've decided to do here. Also, they replayed the old episode where Meredith from The Office guest stars and I can't decide whether to feel sorry for her or just be annoyed. Oh, and their "New York" soundstage is really, really fake. Worse than Friends "New York" fake.
Embarrassing Admission #2: I am also in possession of a copy of Disney's Sing It! 2 for Wii. It's sort of fantastic in that it's got a lot of terrible songs that they only play on the Disney Channel, such as half the score of Camp Rock 2 and various charts by the JoBros. In addition, they've got some Demi Lovato songs, which will hopefully help her overcome those physical and emotional issues and get back into the studio for her next album that no one will buy. And then there is Bieber. I'm becoming a real champ on One Time.
Sunday, January 09, 2011
Burbage
I went to IKEA yesterday. Somehow I generally get there about once a year whether I actually need anything from there or not. Of course I always end up buying all sorts of things I have no real use for, such as extra felt pads for the bottoms of chairs or (I kid you not) a second colander. And of course it is always an insane mess at the store, with thousands of suburbanites scratching at each other's eyes and pulling out each other's hair over unassembled footstools and end tables with names like klurg and flotwil. Yesterday was, in fact, the worst I've ever seen it -- it took about twenty minutes to get through checkout, which was enough time to devour both a slice of Swedish pizza and one of those tiny ice cream cones Kirstie Alley is always spotted eating in Star magazine.
There was also a mall stop involved and good lord were the teens out in full force this weekend. I was nearly run over by several packs of them and I didn't even go within twenty yards of a Hollister store. Of course, I can recall roving up and down the mall myself at that age, with only the occasional stop at the Orange Julius or the Buckle, but what I don't understand is where their coats are. Is there a coat check somewhere of which I am unaware? Or do their parents drop them off that way in the hope that they'll die of frostbite?
Anyway, I'm alive, despite my continued best efforts to the contrary.
I went to IKEA yesterday. Somehow I generally get there about once a year whether I actually need anything from there or not. Of course I always end up buying all sorts of things I have no real use for, such as extra felt pads for the bottoms of chairs or (I kid you not) a second colander. And of course it is always an insane mess at the store, with thousands of suburbanites scratching at each other's eyes and pulling out each other's hair over unassembled footstools and end tables with names like klurg and flotwil. Yesterday was, in fact, the worst I've ever seen it -- it took about twenty minutes to get through checkout, which was enough time to devour both a slice of Swedish pizza and one of those tiny ice cream cones Kirstie Alley is always spotted eating in Star magazine.
There was also a mall stop involved and good lord were the teens out in full force this weekend. I was nearly run over by several packs of them and I didn't even go within twenty yards of a Hollister store. Of course, I can recall roving up and down the mall myself at that age, with only the occasional stop at the Orange Julius or the Buckle, but what I don't understand is where their coats are. Is there a coat check somewhere of which I am unaware? Or do their parents drop them off that way in the hope that they'll die of frostbite?
Anyway, I'm alive, despite my continued best efforts to the contrary.
Friday, January 07, 2011
Easy Does It
So I saw Easy A the other night. I have a variety of reactions. Overall, I have to say I enjoyed it far more than I thought I would. Of course, I thought I would hate it because the trailer was like three hours long and gave away the entire plot of the movie and seemed really pretty pretty and precious, so that's not saying a ton. Which sort of begs the question of why I ever saw this movie in the first place. I have no good answer to that one.
Anyway, Emma Stone is pretty likable and charming, although oddly enough she does way better with the lines that aren't supposed to be funny than the ones that are. And also there's something kind of weird about her face. I haven't figured out exactly what yet. I'll have to get her to the face lab to use the same science I once successfully applied to Selena Gomez and Nicole Kidman.
Speaking of faces, Amanda Bynes' face has gotten huge. I mean, it was never small, but now it looks like it might eat her body. She's okay. Playing someone unspeakably horrible is right up her alley.
Stanley Tucci and Patricia Clarkson play the parents. They're amusing but trying too hard. Actually, that pretty much applies to the whole movie. If the movie were a person, I'd tap it on the shoulder and tell it just to relax because everyone would like it so much better if it would just stop freaking out all the time.
Lisa Kudrow is in the movie for all of three minutes and spends those minutes being unlikable. What happened to her? Remember when she was in The Opposite of Sex and was all like the indie queen of the moment? Yeah, probably not.
The plot of course is wholly preposterous. Kids weren't nearly the whores they are now back when I was a teenager, and no one at my small rural high school would have found the fact that a girl had had sex even remotely interesting, much less have made picket signs. We reserved that sort of thing for Showgirls at the Cinema 6.
So I saw Easy A the other night. I have a variety of reactions. Overall, I have to say I enjoyed it far more than I thought I would. Of course, I thought I would hate it because the trailer was like three hours long and gave away the entire plot of the movie and seemed really pretty pretty and precious, so that's not saying a ton. Which sort of begs the question of why I ever saw this movie in the first place. I have no good answer to that one.
Anyway, Emma Stone is pretty likable and charming, although oddly enough she does way better with the lines that aren't supposed to be funny than the ones that are. And also there's something kind of weird about her face. I haven't figured out exactly what yet. I'll have to get her to the face lab to use the same science I once successfully applied to Selena Gomez and Nicole Kidman.
Speaking of faces, Amanda Bynes' face has gotten huge. I mean, it was never small, but now it looks like it might eat her body. She's okay. Playing someone unspeakably horrible is right up her alley.
Stanley Tucci and Patricia Clarkson play the parents. They're amusing but trying too hard. Actually, that pretty much applies to the whole movie. If the movie were a person, I'd tap it on the shoulder and tell it just to relax because everyone would like it so much better if it would just stop freaking out all the time.
Lisa Kudrow is in the movie for all of three minutes and spends those minutes being unlikable. What happened to her? Remember when she was in The Opposite of Sex and was all like the indie queen of the moment? Yeah, probably not.
The plot of course is wholly preposterous. Kids weren't nearly the whores they are now back when I was a teenager, and no one at my small rural high school would have found the fact that a girl had had sex even remotely interesting, much less have made picket signs. We reserved that sort of thing for Showgirls at the Cinema 6.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
New Year's Resolutions 2011
-- Get unbanned by TGI Fridays.
-- Finish Murder, She Wrote fan fiction.
-- Engage in fewer knife fights at Lane Bryant stores.
-- Avoid "improper hygiene" disqualification from hot dog eating contest.
-- Reduce number of sexual fantasies about Snap, Crackle, and Pop.
-- Stop referring to self as "the Carrie" of one's social circle.
-- Nip Gwyneth Paltrow's country music career in the bud while it's still possible.
-- Lobby condo association to institute "prettiest eyes" award.
-- Locate the real killer.
-- Marry Paula Deen.
-- Ruin the resolutions made by everyone else.
-- Get unbanned by TGI Fridays.
-- Finish Murder, She Wrote fan fiction.
-- Engage in fewer knife fights at Lane Bryant stores.
-- Avoid "improper hygiene" disqualification from hot dog eating contest.
-- Reduce number of sexual fantasies about Snap, Crackle, and Pop.
-- Stop referring to self as "the Carrie" of one's social circle.
-- Nip Gwyneth Paltrow's country music career in the bud while it's still possible.
-- Lobby condo association to institute "prettiest eyes" award.
-- Locate the real killer.
-- Marry Paula Deen.
-- Ruin the resolutions made by everyone else.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Nappy New Year
I have established a little bit of a New Year's Day tradition. Namely, I try to start the year off by doing as little as possible. I mean, sure, I might watch 16 consecutive hours of Felicity or spend half the day playing computer games designed for children, but I make every effort to utterly avoid productive activities. The idea is to achieve some level of relaxation while I still can, as each year tends to beat it the heck out of me as it progresses.
This year I have been remarkably successful. I slept until 10, watched part of Sister Act (the one with Harvey Keitel, not the one with Lauryn Hill), watched a few episodes of Degrassi (the one where Ashley freaks out on ecstasy and calls Paige a hag), watched a few episodes of The L Word (the less said about that the better), and am now watching Inception. Oh, and I had some Burger King. Frankly, there's nowhere for 2011 to go from here but down.
I have established a little bit of a New Year's Day tradition. Namely, I try to start the year off by doing as little as possible. I mean, sure, I might watch 16 consecutive hours of Felicity or spend half the day playing computer games designed for children, but I make every effort to utterly avoid productive activities. The idea is to achieve some level of relaxation while I still can, as each year tends to beat it the heck out of me as it progresses.
This year I have been remarkably successful. I slept until 10, watched part of Sister Act (the one with Harvey Keitel, not the one with Lauryn Hill), watched a few episodes of Degrassi (the one where Ashley freaks out on ecstasy and calls Paige a hag), watched a few episodes of The L Word (the less said about that the better), and am now watching Inception. Oh, and I had some Burger King. Frankly, there's nowhere for 2011 to go from here but down.
