Cathryn (formerly catslash) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
remindmeofthe) wrote2003-10-21 12:26 pm
remindmeofthe) wrote2003-10-21 12:26 pm
(no subject)
So is it just me, or did last night's episode of Everwood take place in Bizarro World? EvilMadison was nice and thoughtful. Amy behaved maturely. And Harold Abbott knew what Friendster was! Personally I'm going to pretend it never happened, because it was all ridiculous. Especially the part where Ephram kissed EvilMadison. Because Ephram is so totally the type to kiss someone who's been actively and premeditatively making his life miserable, especially when there has been no evidence whatsoever of any attraction for either party. *dies*
And then they played the ubiquitous Etta James song, "At Last." Other places you may have heard that song: During Reindeer Games; at the end of Kissing a Fool; at one of my auditions for chamber choir; in my mom's kitchen, over and over, as I was growing up. That song is everywhere. If I develop any more associations with it, I'm going to get confused and forget all the words.
I had rather an unpleasant, but necessary and long time coming, altercation that I don't care to get into here, on Sunday, so I called Amanda and she helped me cheer up first by assuring me that I am not a bad friend (and after nineteen years, she's pretty much the foremost expert on that subject), and then we turned on the game and made fun of the Yankees. =D By the way, making fun of the team that's winning six to nil? Requires a little extra creativity. Or you can just allow yourself to sink into the lowest common denominator:
"Ew, Derek Jeter. I want to puke on his head! And I hope he gets syphilis. Though not necessarily from me puking on his head."
"Ha. Right. And then he'll spread it to the rest of the team."
"Yeah! Speaking of which, according to a t-shirt I heard of, Jeter does swallow."
"I want that t-shirt."
What? We're not entirely cruel. Syphilis is curable these days, you know.
We also came up with a good way to commit suicide: Travel back in time to Friday and wear a Yankees cap in downtown Boston. You wouldn't make it half a block.
In other news, this whole free rentals thing is fun, as I'm using it partly to see movies that I wouldn't have bothered paying for. Last night I watched What a Girl Wants, which was cute (if a little lacking in your standard Earth logic), featured plenty of Colin Firth, and went unexpectedly light on the wacky cross-cultural hijinx. So, it was an overall positive experience.
Also got in touch with a couple of friends I haven't seen since August, which was really nice. One of them attends Berklee School of Music in Boston and is up for visitors (and was up here for Columbus weekend and I didn't KNOW and so didn't get to see her argh), so I pretty much have a free place to sleep and fun company whenever I feel like checking Boston out. Which I've meant to do for years.
Interviewed at Subway today. Sandwiches, whee. Still, it would be a second job and more hours, and if I'm real lucky they'll even pay on a weekly basis.
I think that's pretty much it. Fairly quiet weekend.
And then they played the ubiquitous Etta James song, "At Last." Other places you may have heard that song: During Reindeer Games; at the end of Kissing a Fool; at one of my auditions for chamber choir; in my mom's kitchen, over and over, as I was growing up. That song is everywhere. If I develop any more associations with it, I'm going to get confused and forget all the words.
I had rather an unpleasant, but necessary and long time coming, altercation that I don't care to get into here, on Sunday, so I called Amanda and she helped me cheer up first by assuring me that I am not a bad friend (and after nineteen years, she's pretty much the foremost expert on that subject), and then we turned on the game and made fun of the Yankees. =D By the way, making fun of the team that's winning six to nil? Requires a little extra creativity. Or you can just allow yourself to sink into the lowest common denominator:
"Ew, Derek Jeter. I want to puke on his head! And I hope he gets syphilis. Though not necessarily from me puking on his head."
"Ha. Right. And then he'll spread it to the rest of the team."
"Yeah! Speaking of which, according to a t-shirt I heard of, Jeter does swallow."
"I want that t-shirt."
What? We're not entirely cruel. Syphilis is curable these days, you know.
We also came up with a good way to commit suicide: Travel back in time to Friday and wear a Yankees cap in downtown Boston. You wouldn't make it half a block.
In other news, this whole free rentals thing is fun, as I'm using it partly to see movies that I wouldn't have bothered paying for. Last night I watched What a Girl Wants, which was cute (if a little lacking in your standard Earth logic), featured plenty of Colin Firth, and went unexpectedly light on the wacky cross-cultural hijinx. So, it was an overall positive experience.
Also got in touch with a couple of friends I haven't seen since August, which was really nice. One of them attends Berklee School of Music in Boston and is up for visitors (and was up here for Columbus weekend and I didn't KNOW and so didn't get to see her argh), so I pretty much have a free place to sleep and fun company whenever I feel like checking Boston out. Which I've meant to do for years.
Interviewed at Subway today. Sandwiches, whee. Still, it would be a second job and more hours, and if I'm real lucky they'll even pay on a weekly basis.
I think that's pretty much it. Fairly quiet weekend.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2003-10-22 01:36 am (UTC)(link)And yes, Derek Jeter does swallow.
~Hoedogg