2007-06-16

news from the inside

Now playing in my head/being sung out loud: Dancing on the Ceiling by Lionel Richie. And no, I'm not gay, but I am wearing a yellow sweater.

After watching We Are The Eighties this morning (hence the Richie) I watched a bootleg copy of Pirates of the Carribbean 3 with a handful of my co-residents. Not only was it an unbelievably shitty movie but I had to watch it next to this guy with weird facial hair who carries his guitar everywhere. Everyone else seems to like him well enough, but something about him just throws me off. Like, if my life was a movie, my character would spend the opening scenes casting suspicious looks at him from across the room and then at the end he would turn out to be a werewolf or a crack dealer or something.

Anyway, that little ordeal only lasted a few hours and then it was back to soul-crushing boredom. Right.

So tomorrow is Sunday and that means absolutely nothing to me. But Monday, MONDAY, that is the day of my liberation. Liz and Bob are very generously giving me a ride downtown to Ben's house, where I intend to spend the week sitting on the balcony doing nothing. Which is precisely what I've been doing for the last three weeks, except exponentially better because now I'll be doing it in the sunlight.

Well, I think I've blogged hard enough for one night. I'm going to go pace up and down the hallway pretending I'm Angelina Jolie from Girl Interrupted.

zebrasaur at 8:39 p.m.

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