Sunday, December 31, 2006
I'll "see" you all on Monday.
Listening: "Maybe I'm Right"...Pete Yorn (for real this time)
Edit: Nevermind! Woke up incredibly hungover and feeling assy (still do...some weird whiplash thing from dancing last night) and decided to stay home. Nevertheless, I still hope you all have a loverly New Year's Eve!
Friday, December 29, 2006
1. The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak – I read this book in my adolescent lit class and was quite excited about it given the amount of buzz I’d already heard in my groups and from trusted reading buddies. I was not disappointed as I embarked on this unforgettable journey of a book. I was touched by the story, impressed by the writing, and blown away by the total package. Death is undoubtedly one of the most interesting narrators I’ve ever read, and the cast of characters as a whole have stayed with me. As Death proclaims in the book, “I am haunted by humans.” Likewise Zusak’s characters haunt me.
2. The New York Trilogy, by Paul Auster – It was a real toss up between The Book Thief and this book for the top spot. I can’t, at the end of the day, say that one is better than the other, for they represent very different things for me. While The Book Thief was a staggering story, Paul Auster’s three interwoven tales are no less than staggering stories, but they’re also mind-bending postmodern explorations of the writer as detective and the power of language. This book made me think like no other this year, and I find myself haunted by this one as well.
3. The Subtle Knife, by Philip Pullman – The second in the His Dark Materials series was just as delightful and heart wrenching a ride as the first. I have to admit, I haven’t read the third because I don’t want the series to end. Lyra’s ongoing adventure is rich with intertextual allusions to the great masterworks of literature and at once a thrilling adventure through a fantastical world that rubs up against our own.
4. In Cold Blood, by Truman Capote – Certainly my interest was piqued after viewing the film, Capote, but this book lingered on the edge of my wishlist for years before the film rolled out. I wasn’t the least bit disappointed, as Capote weaves a tale filled with horror and tragedy but at once brings the villainous so vividly to life that one can’t help but feel some sympathy. It’s an odd feeling, an uncomfortable feeling, and a lofty achievement by an incredibly talented writer.
5. The Professor’s House, by Willa Cather – This one was a result of a Modern American Literature class I took in the spring semester and my first Cather. I expected something different based on my limited knowledge of Cather—something that made me feel dusty perhaps, in the vein of Steinbeck. What I found was a subtly nuanced story of an aging professor and his fondest memories of a talented, enigmatic student. Beautiful imagery, striking turns of phrase, and a definite re-read in the future.
6. A Plea for Eros: Essays, by Siri Hustvedt – As most anyone who has been a bookish friend of mine for more than five minutes knows, I adore Siri Hustvedt. The wife of Paul Auster, she is undoubtedly one of the most underappreciated authors in America…a diamond in the rough for lack of a more innovative comparison. This book of essays focuses largely on her growth from a girl in Minnesota, to her years as a student at Columbia, to her adventures and misadventures on her way to the present. She ponders art and literature and writing as a craft. The essays left me breathless and mired in thought.
7. Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer – At Heather F.’s encouragement I picked this book up for some light reading. I was endlessly delighted by this first of Meyer’s books, the story of a lonely adolescent girl and her unlikely love for a vampire. I was immediately transported back to my childhood when I basked in the goodness of authors like L.J. Smith and Christopher Pike, yet the thing that sets Meyer apart is her lovely writing—quite a lot more sophisticated than those earlier authors I enjoyed as a child. I read this first book at somewhere around 500 pages and the 2nd at 500+ in exactly three days. As I was preparing for my thesis defense. ‘Nuff said.
8. New Moon, by Stephenie Meyer – After finishing the first book, I immediately picked up the second and devoured it in a day and a half. While I had my doubts about New Moon, I was even happier with it than with the first. While the hero I adored so much in the first book was largely absent from the second, the writing was superior and the adventure just as thrilling.
9. The Road, by Cormac McCarthy – McCarthy’s most recent offering has been called post-apocalyptic and friends of mine would go so far as to categorize it as post-post-apocalyptic as the story unfolds in a world so torn and destroyed that people scavenge where there is nothing left to scavenge, in a world of dust and desolation. The Road is about a father and son and the nothingness that stretches before them. The need for hope when there is almost nothing left to hope for, and it is up to the reader to decide whether McCarthy delivers that hope or not.
10. The Golems of Gotham, by Thane Rosenbaum – It was hard to pick this last title, and I actually nixed Sister Carrie (Theodore Dreiser) at the last minute. While I think Dreiser’s novel was superior in its writing, I think Rosenbaum has done something special in The Golems of Gotham, and at the end of the day (or year as it might be) this title was much more affecting. It’s the story of a young girl and her father—their family plagued by death and loss. In an attempt to save her father, a writer, from his depression the girl summons her dead grandparents, Holocaust survivors, from the other side and with them comes a cast of famous authors, also Holocaust survivors who met their demise as a result of suicide. Rosenbaum deals in inheritance—how the children and grandchildren of those so inexorably changed by the Holocaust inherit that burden and live with it (or die by it). The novel is magical, something akin to magical realism I would say, and the writing is gorgeous. Rosenbaum is certainly a young author with good things on the horizon. I urge any and everyone to give at least one of his books a try.
Very honorable mentions:
Sister Carrie, by Theodore Dreiser
Hand to Mouth: A Memoir, by Paul Auster
Alternative Comics: An Emerging Literature, by Charles Hatfield
Feed, by M.T. Andersen
In Our Time, by Ernest Hemingway
Fables: Homelands, by Bill Willingham
iPod says: "Maybe I'm Right"...Pete Yorn (I'm lying, I left it in the car. But that's the song in my head.)
John Edwards announced his candidacy for the Democratic nomination today, and I have to say, I think he's a pansyass lame-o with not enough spine to get anything done. I hope he gets blown away ASAP by a worthier candidate.
And if you're wondering--despite my obvious political passions--I will never run for public office. I'm sure this blog would be enough to get me crucified.
iPod says: "Screaming Infidelities"...Dashboard Confessional
Thursday, December 28, 2006
I bought (all prices pre-discount):
Exposure, by Kathryn Harrison ($5.98)
The Tattooed Girl, by Joyce Carol Oates ($3.98)
I, Claudius, by Robert Graves ($1.00)
Heir to the Glimmering World, by Cynthia Ozick ($1.00)
The Book and the Brotherhood, by Iris Murdoch ($1.00)
Must. Stop. Buying. Books.
But at least I only spent $11.21 total after my discount.
Pics of my overflowing shelves to come. In the meantime, I think I'm going to start On the Road in an attempt to de-slump.
iPod says: "So Excited"...Janet Jackson
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
I've been doing absolutely no reading, which is quite disappointing seeing as I have a month off from school during which I *should* be soaking up the written word. All I seem to be interested in is music, movies, TV, and Playstation, though. On the up side, I just finished watching a fantastic movie...Shopgirl. It's adapted from Steve Martin's (yes, that Steve Martin) novella of the same name. It stars Claire Danes as a reserved, somewhat dowdy Saks Fifth Avenue glove counter worker named Mirabelle who meets the schlubby loser, Jeremy (Jason Schwartzman), and quickly passes him up for the suave older man (Steve Martin) who appears on the scene. All of the characters undergo some sort of transformation, and while much of the movie is very internal, uneventful and character driven, there are some nice visual things that move the plot along and represent the characters' respective changes. It's a visually stunning movie, quite funny (Schwartzman especially), and just downright quirky and interesting. Now I don't know if I should read the novella or just let the movie stand as is. We'll see. I'm not reading at the mo' anyway, so I suppose it doesn't matter toooo much!!!
Tomorrow: start writing the thesis, get some crap out for publication, and have dinner with Elise. Good day, good day. G is on his way to New Orleans for New Year's and will be reading the Sting memoir I gave him for Christmas. At least someone is enjoying a book!
Ear bud progress: none. Still falls out. I don't why I keep trying.
Oh, and I think I have a crush on Craig Ferguson. I want to stroke his accent.
iPod says: "Not Ready to Make Nice"...Dixie Chicks
Edit: It finally dawned on me to try the adaptor I used to use for my XM Radio. Works like a charm! The iPod has found a home in my car.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Finally, I'm in the Christmas spirit. We had our collective family get together here yesterday: Mom, myself, Cousin 1, his wife and 3 kids, Cousin 2 and her husband and 3 kids. We ate honey-baked ham, potato salad, and a barrage of munchies: Rotel cheese dip, artichoke parmesan dip, and cajun ham dip. Not to mention deviled eggs, salad, and a veggie tray. For dessert, banana pudding and pecan pie.
Holy fatass, Batman!
The only ugly incident was when Cousin 2's hubby said, "So, Andi, when do you think you're moving? You know you'll be right back just like when you tried moving to North Carolina."
Grrrrrrr. I made a very smartassy remark that put him in his place and he kissed ass for the rest of the day. I shall refrain from repeating it here since it alludes to a sensitive family subject that I shan't go into. But anywho, I was redeemed and he looked like the asshole he can be from time to time.
It was a good afternoon of eating, chatting, and gift giving/receiving. I received a Joe's Crab Shack gift card (after Cousin 2 lost the Barnes & Noble gift card she bought for me), an embroidered teachery bag (says, "Andi's A+ Students" and lists all 6 of my lil cousins' names), and....drum roll....an 8 GB iPod nano from my mom.
Finding ourselves quite overwhelmed by all the gifty goodness, Mom and I went ahead and exchanged all of our gifts (yes, on the 23rd...2 days before Christmas). I gave her:
- $50 Wal-Mart gift card after I couldn't find the can opener and chopper thingy that she wanted
- Cool Water for Women (so she'd stop stealing mine)
- Moonlight Path perfume from Bath & Body Works
- Why Do Men Fall Asleep After Sex? Questions You'd Only Ask Your Doctor After Your Third Whiskey Sour...by a couple of doctors. The 2nd in this series after I bought Why Do Men Have Nipples? Questions You'd Only Ask Your Doctor After Your Third Martini last year.
- A Crown Royal (Canadian whiskey for those non-drinkers out there) gift set....big bottle of Crown and a couple of nice glasses.
- And last, but certainly not least, an amethyst necklace.
- A cover for my nano.
- A car kit for the nano so I can play it through my car stereo.
- The Essential Bob Dylan....2-disc set
- Shaun of the Dead
- A casual navy blue shirt.
- An M.C. Escher calendar.
- Sims 2: Pets expansion pack
And as an added bonus, Mom won a Playstation 2 at work last week, so we've been playing our old Playstation original games and we bought Sims 2: Bustin' Out, a Spongebob game, and I've been playing a Family Guy game like mad.
Today was a fun day. Mom and I tooled around in G-vegas and in the grand tradition of watching horror movies on Christmas Eve (something that started several years ago when we found ourselves in the theater on Christmas Eve watching Scream and some others) we popped Shaun of the Dead in ye olde DVD player. Mom had never seen it and I think she loved it almost as much as I do. We topped off the day by watching A Christmas Story (another one she hadn't seen), and waiting up for Cousin 2's hubby to come get the kids' Christmas presents out of our garage...2 dirtbikes and a little battery-powered John Deere Gator 4-wheeler thingy for the little one.
On that note, I'm about to call it a day. I hope you're all having a wonderful time with people you care about. I wish you the best!
Listening: a nano shuffle.....
- "Get Him Back"....Fiona Apple
- "Cry"...James Blunt
- "Angry Angel"...Imogen Heap
- "Satyam Shivam Sundaram"...Thievery Corporation
- "Not Fade Away"...Buddy Holly
- "Isolation"...Maximo Park
- "Hurricane"...Bob Dylan
- "It's All Over Now"...Bob Dylan
- "Glory Box"...Portishead
- "Kissing the Lipless"...The Shins
Friday, December 22, 2006
After I get out of here for the day (soon, I hope) I plan to go back to Thesis Director's house, curl up with her cats and a book (The Amber Spyglass) and vegetate. I brought Gangs of New York, Shopgirl, and Shaun of the Dead to watch, so we'll see what I'm in the mood for.
I'm feeling neither chatty nor particularly entertaining (mostly sleepy and grumpy) so I'll take my leave. I hope you're all half-nekkid (off work, obviously) and neck-deep in yummy fruitcake (not the dry, gross kind).
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Otherwise, and I hope this is the case, I'll be back later today with posty goodness and a Googley blog.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Listening: "Moonlight Sonata"...Beethoven
Which of Henry VIII's wives are you?
this quiz was made by Lori Fury
Katherine Parr spent nearly her whole life married to crotchety old men: Henry was the THIRD old fart she was forced to marry. Is it any wonder she turned to books and religion to occupy her time?
Katherine wasn't just smart, she was a tiny bit uppity, too: she almost got herself thrown in jail for arguing with His Royal Fatness about some theological issues. After Henry croaked, Katherine dropped the prim and proper act and married Thomas Seymour, a handsome, dashing pirate kind of guy who was also as dumb as a post.
Which goes to show you that even bookworms know how to get it on.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
We started with a trip to Half-Price Books--the BIG one on Northwest Highway. I picked up:
Specimen Days, Michael Cunningham ($6.00)
Birthday Letters, Ted Hughes ($1.00)
The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera ($6.00)
The Secret Garden, that woman whose name I can't remember ($1.00)
Briar Rose, Jane Yolen ($1.00)
Fade, Robert Cormier ($3.00)
The Chocolate War, Robert Cormier ($3.00)
Dear Mili, The Brothers Grimm, illustrated by Maurice Sendak ($2.00)
Very proud of my bargains.
Next up, we went to The Cheesecake Factory and after much deliberation and strategizing, settled on the super duper appetizer platter (feeds 4) which consisted of calimari, avocado eggrolls, potstickers, buffalo chicken bites, artichoke/spinach dip, spring rolls, quesadillas, and THE BEST corn cakes I've EVER had. That was a nice amount split among 3 of us, and we each ordered a different dessert and shared. I ordered my usual (favorite) dulce de leche caramel cheesecake, and the other desserts were: carrot cake cheesecake and a lemoncello cream torte. AMAZING. I'm sure my ass grew an inch just sitting at the dinner table, but it was yummy and so very worth it.
After that we headed back home and spent the remainder of the evening (until 3am) drinking shots: mind erasers (kahlua, vodka, club soda, diet coke--in a tumbler) and lemon drops (vodka shot with a sugar-coated lemon chaser). I think I had something like 8 shots and 2 vodka tonics before I drunk-dialed G. and passed out at 3:30. I woke up with that all-too-familiar feel of suede in my mouth, promptly began re-hydrating, and now I'm at the office grading final portfolios. Later today I fully intend to go back to the very empty house I'm sitting and read while covered in sweet puppies. And my mom and I are going out to an all-you-can-eat catfish buffet tonight. Watch out!
Friday, December 15, 2006
It took just under an hour for me to defend my thesis proposal (pretty short) and only about 5 minutes of deliberation for them to call me in to tell me I passed. The whole thing went pretty smoothly. I was pretty nervous on the first question and burbled around a bit, but overall I feel good about it.
Now I get to write the thesis! A full draft is due in to my committee by February 1st, and the plan is to defend on March 1st. Holy shit. Gotta do a lot of work over the holidays.
But for now I'm off to Dallas to rape Half-Price books, gnosh at the Cheesecake Factory, and drink till sunrise.
It feels GOOD to have this part finished.
2 hours until go-time. I'm not as nervous as I thought I'd be. It helps that most of the department has already left town and won't be sitting and staring at me googly-eyed throughout the defense. As far as I know I'll be graced by the presence of Elise, Jeremy, Goose, and Abby. And that makes me happy.
Listening: the voices in my head...and they sound oddly like the Dixie Chicks.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
I'm going to do my best to do T. proud and "Jam out with my clam out."
Reading: Nine Stories (Salinger)
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
"I wandered in my mind for several weeks, looking for a way to begin. Every life is inexplicable, I kept telling myself. No matter how many facts are told, no matter how many details are given, the essential thing resists telling. To say that so and so was born here and went there, that he did this and did that, that he married this woman and had these children, that he lived, that he died, that he left behind these books or this battle or that bridge--none of that tells us very much. We all want to be told stories, and we listen to them in the same way we did when we were young. We imagine the real story inside the words, and to do this we substitute ourselves for the person in the story, pretending that we can understand him because we understand ourselves. This is a deception. We exist for ourselves, perhaps, and at times we even have a glimmer of who we are, but in the end we can never be sure, and as our lives go on, we become more and more opaque to ourselves, more and more aware of our own incoherence. No one can cross the boundary into another--for the simple reason that no one can gain access to himself." (242-243)
"Everyone knows that stories are imaginary. Whatever effect they might have on us, we know they are not true, even when they tell us truths more important than the ones we can find elsewhere." (245)
Astounding, astounding read. Auster's three intertwined novellas are an exploration of writing, the author as detective, chance, and the dark confusing parts of human nature. Disguised as detective fiction this postmodern whirl of overlapping stories and intertextual goodness just makes my head spin. The best way I can describe my love of this novel is to say that it's a puzzle. I want to re-read to root out all of the allusions and layers and authorial tricks. For this very reason it's probably not a book for everyone. Many would hate its experimental style and what might be considered a pompous manipulation of form. Having read several of Auster's memoirs, I further appreciate the narrative for all of the little bits that Auster pulled from his own life. While I usually despise looking at an author's fiction as a reflection of his personal life, Auster continually draws from his own experience and it's easy to see how issues of chance have deeply influenced his writing.Knowing Auster's story further humanizes these complicated tales.
Watching: Bukowski: Born into This (documentary)
Be back later with more musings on books and existential crap. If I have the energy!
In my head: A splitting ache
Monday, December 11, 2006
Uneventful day on the whole. Finished some transcript requests, registered (and forked over $90) for the Nashville conference, and worked on some minor grammatical revisions for my thesis proposal. T-minus 3 days until defense time. Graduate Director apparently really liked my proposal. Another weight off the shoulders.
Now I'm wrapped up in my electric blanket reading the last novella in The New York Trilogy. Breathe easy, T. I'm almost done. I love this book.
A good couple of lines:
The beautiful Sophie delicately put the baby down on the floor, gave me a great hug of thanks, and then kissed me on the cheek. For a moment I thought she was goin to cry, but the moment passed and there were no tears. Then I hauled the two suitcases slowly down the stairs and onto the street. Together, they were as heavy as a man.
Now, what makes this passage particularly lovely and extraordinary is the very last sentence. Auster is referring to suitcases filled with the work of a writer--unpublished--who has disappeared. His wife entrusts her husband's work to his formerly close friend to whom he hasn't spoken in years but who he thought of as his only true friend. The idea that the weight of his life could be kept in two suitcases is at once poetic and tragic--but it's oddly appealing that perhaps he'll live on in some way through his work. But Auster is rarely that kind to his characters, so we'll see how it goes. 100 pages left.
Watching: Ed Norton on Leno....rawwwr!
P.S. I had the loveliest dream last night. I was dating Dave Grohl and he was terribly down to earth and was kind enough to let me shack up in his very large house.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
1. I hate being naked. I never sleep naked, I don't run around the house naked. It just feels weird and wrong.
2. I laugh (out loud) at the things I think sometimes. People look at me funny. If they only knew.
3. I obsessively clean/prune my fingernails.
4. I fake-sing in church. Even though I have a good voice, I just don't wanna sing along with everyone else.
5. I hate clothes shopping. I'm going to have to buckle down and by some new bras because the underwire finally came all the way out of one of them and I'm forced to purchase new ones.
6. I order Diet Coke with everything. Including the biggest, greasiest burger imaginable. I figure the Diet Coke is still better than sugar-syrup along with my greasy burger. Greasy should be pronounced greeeezy.
1. I'm an incorrigible flirt if I find someone flirt-worthy. Otherwise, I'm decidedly against eyelash batting and other such coy, girly crap.
2. I've been labeled "the perv" amongst my friends because I really enjoy shocking people and/or invoking an uncomfortable silence (mouths usually hanging open and whatnot).
3. I'm finally going through my adolescence right here at age 26. Party!
4. I'm a book hoarder (shout out to Elise). I bet I've bought 30 books in the last couple of months. I shudder to think how many I've bought this year. Luckily, I'm not alone; all the English nerds are doin' it.
5. I love slutty eye makeup. The more liner and fake lashes I can get away with, the better.
6. I've had 17 sex dreams in my life. Each and every one was special. *snort*
Watching: Something to Talk About
Friday, December 08, 2006
While this one was extremely dark and heartwrenching (made me cry) it's also oddly hopeful.
Big thanks to T. for letting me borrow his copy.
Listening: "Waiting on the World to Change"...John Mayer
P.S. No idea what to read next. Maybe I'll finish The New York Trilogy. It's excellent, I'm just dragging out the goodness.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
The Historian, by that Kostova woman ($1 clearance)
White Teeth, by Zadie "Bitch Supereme" Smith (also $1 clearance)
The Invention of Solitude, by Paul "Is That a Banana in Your Pocket" Auster
On the Road, by Jack Kerou-whackin'
Uncensored: Views and (Re)Views, by Joyce Carol "Writes So Much No One in Academia Respects Her" Oates
After fondling the books we hopped across the interstate to Razzoo's, otherwise known as Cajun Heaven for the Masses. I had "Crawdaddies Two Ways" (which, oddly enough, made me think of socially unacceptable sexual practices). It was a serving of fried crawfish tails, crawfish etouffe with dirty rice, and fries.
We quickly took to the car and made our way to the American Airlines Center, and upon our arrival we purchased $7 beers and took our floor seats just in time to see the opening act: PETE YORN! I've never been so trhilled to see a not-sucky opening act (usually it's Johnny Bumfuck and the Deliverance Club Band or somesuch). The Chicks took the stage promptly at 9 and played until 11. Excellent selection of songs from all 4 albums, and as an added bonus: "Mississippi" by Bob Dylan, and a new song they wrote with Pete called "The Neighbor." I'm thrilled that this concert was Elise's first country show, because it was quite a spectacle. The Chicks continue to rock my socks, and I'm certain I will make every effort to attend a 4th concert the next time they tour through town. I will also be leaping tall buildings or blowing the people at Netflix in order to see the documentary "Shut Up and Sing" as soon as possible.
In other news, I've been absent these last few days because my days have been hijacked by two very long, very luscious young adult novels. Twilight and New Moon by Stephenie Meyer. I'll remind you all of my fondness for L.J. Smith's The Vampire Diaries series from my adolescent days. While there are marked similarities between the two series, Twilight and New Moon had plenty of their own flavor--enough to tempt me away from work and sleep for two days. In fact, yesterday I finished the final 200 pages of Twilight and promptly bought New Moon. I read New Moon on and off from 3pm to 1am (450 pages), and finished that puppy up this morning. It could be a new reading marathon record for me--650 pages in a day. Whoa, mama! Go buy these books. There's nothing like a good human/vampire romance to get the juices flowin'. Thanks to Heather F. for steering me toward these fantabulous books.
Listening: "Mexico"...Jump, Little Children
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
I say: "What do you think of me?"
He says: "You're too smart for your own good. You underestimate your intelligence. You may know how smart you are, but you don't let it show to everyone."
And to prove that he's probably right, I just edited this comment so as not to sound stuck up. Ugg, this blog is going to shit because I don't philosophize here anymore. Nor do I share any worthwhile/strong opinions for the most part. Perhaps because I drink and study 24/7. And flirt with the boy in the above comment.
Listening: "That Lonesome Road" (live)...Dixie Chicks (concert tonight!!!!)
Monday, December 04, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
"Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" (John Mayer)
It's not a silly little moment
It's not the storm before the calm
This is the deep and dying breath of
This love we've been working on
Can't seem to hold you like
I want to so
I can feel you in my arms
Nobody's gonna come and save you
We pulled too many false alarms
We're goin down and you can see it too
We're goin down and you know that we're doomed
We're slow dancing in a burnin room
Slightly pissy, disillusioned Andi on the prowl tonight. Party update tomorrow.
Edit: We talk at night before bed. Now I'm his wakeup call. *sigh*
Saturday, December 02, 2006
I'm housesitting for a professor this weekend, so I promptly ran through McDonald's for a bit of take-out (nothing like a good artery clogging to celebrate) and retired to the very cool house I'm sitting in for HBO watching and phone talking. I was waiting to hear from Goose on a round of celebratory libations at the pub, but I accidently sacked out instead, my body warmed by two very sweet dogs (one long-haired weenie dog, one really old chihuahua-lookin' thing). Sorry Goose!
Tonight I'm hosting a soiree (we have the prof's blessing) full of booze, food, and whirly dancing. We're gonna flail like it's 1999. Until the 7:00 hour rolls around, you'll find me finishing my very large cinammon roll from Cow Hill Coffee House...a fine establishment...accompanied by my chai latte. Next I'll be heading over to the supermarket for foodstuffs, and then I'll return to the borrowed abode for some quality reading/lounging until I find myself inching toward that fateful moment when my peeps decend upon the house. I'll have to primp and cook. Oh what a joyous event it shall be.
Then I have to read for my thesis proposal defense. Fuckers. It never ends.
Listening: Josh Turner