(no subject)
Dear Readers:
I got an apartment. It's in a great location and is a pretty nice pad, but I'm not digging the building, which is a two story, well, its kinda like a house I guess. I guess I'm just being spoiled because it's 595 and I looked at some SWEET 695s and knew I had to not spend money...ho hum. Also, because I went for 3 days (WHAT WAS I THINKING!?) I didn't get to view a lot of places, I called at least 30 place and only got to view 4 because the managers weren't home at the rest. Which is totally weak cuz I feel like if I'd given myself more time, I could have found something a little better. Oh well, there's no lease so I can always move, and the place I got IS really cool, I don't want to make it sound like a dump, it's not.
Money sucks, there's never enough, all I can think is, only $100 more and I coulda got that cute studio on the 3rd floor, in an indoor bulding. Ah vell, college is compromise, that's my new mantra.
In other news...
Has anyone ever noticed that really hot people have mecca at the airport? What the fuck? What a horrible place for God to gather the sweetest ass in the universe...I mean, I look like shit, because..... I'm at the fucking airport, who dresses up for the airport!? I'm tired, I can't even attempt to look attractive carrying my overstuffed messenger bag and scarfing a cinnabon, everyone there is going somewhere different so there's no possible long-term, and you're only there for like 45 minutes so you can't even hook up.
Then I get on the plane, and its one of those where there's no assigned seating, which I don't get. It's not a concert, why not just tell me I'm getting a window when I buy my ticket so I don't have to clothesline the 57 year old Lane Bryant Shopper trying to get in on the last one? Where's the logic people? Once securely seated with my sky view, I realize that the airPLANE is a much better mingling ground than the airPORT because you're all going to the same place and you've got a couple hours to kill, and a couple hours is plenty of time to fall madly in love and get engaged...or at least join the mile high club.
But get this, in a twist of irony befitting Alanis on acoustic guitar, it turns out that although God sends all the Colin Farrells to the airport, he only gives the Will Ferrells a goddamn boarding pass. MOTHERFUCKER! I stare longingly in the direction of the boarding aisle hoping for a Calvin Klein runway, alas no......BUT WAIT! In walks my prince charming, or at least my prince 'best option for now' I'm eyeing him, he's eyeing me....there's...eyeing, (it's all very sexy), but suddenly I become aware of less pleasant eyeing in my midst, the middle aged single tourist in front of him eyeing the 'Moliere' playbook placed on the traytable in front of me which I have irresponsibly not pushed back into its full upright position!
"Oh, I LOVE Tartuffe!"...and with those four words and the four that follow, "Can...I...sit...here?", she becomes my feuding relatives, my Titanic, my Angelina Jolie... the one thing that keeps me from my true love. *sigh*
The damn Moliere book didn't even have Tartuffe in it....
And as the plane crashed down she thought...well isn't this nice. And isn't it ironic...don't you think?
-Heather
I got an apartment. It's in a great location and is a pretty nice pad, but I'm not digging the building, which is a two story, well, its kinda like a house I guess. I guess I'm just being spoiled because it's 595 and I looked at some SWEET 695s and knew I had to not spend money...ho hum. Also, because I went for 3 days (WHAT WAS I THINKING!?) I didn't get to view a lot of places, I called at least 30 place and only got to view 4 because the managers weren't home at the rest. Which is totally weak cuz I feel like if I'd given myself more time, I could have found something a little better. Oh well, there's no lease so I can always move, and the place I got IS really cool, I don't want to make it sound like a dump, it's not.
Money sucks, there's never enough, all I can think is, only $100 more and I coulda got that cute studio on the 3rd floor, in an indoor bulding. Ah vell, college is compromise, that's my new mantra.
In other news...
Has anyone ever noticed that really hot people have mecca at the airport? What the fuck? What a horrible place for God to gather the sweetest ass in the universe...I mean, I look like shit, because..... I'm at the fucking airport, who dresses up for the airport!? I'm tired, I can't even attempt to look attractive carrying my overstuffed messenger bag and scarfing a cinnabon, everyone there is going somewhere different so there's no possible long-term, and you're only there for like 45 minutes so you can't even hook up.
Then I get on the plane, and its one of those where there's no assigned seating, which I don't get. It's not a concert, why not just tell me I'm getting a window when I buy my ticket so I don't have to clothesline the 57 year old Lane Bryant Shopper trying to get in on the last one? Where's the logic people? Once securely seated with my sky view, I realize that the airPLANE is a much better mingling ground than the airPORT because you're all going to the same place and you've got a couple hours to kill, and a couple hours is plenty of time to fall madly in love and get engaged...or at least join the mile high club.
But get this, in a twist of irony befitting Alanis on acoustic guitar, it turns out that although God sends all the Colin Farrells to the airport, he only gives the Will Ferrells a goddamn boarding pass. MOTHERFUCKER! I stare longingly in the direction of the boarding aisle hoping for a Calvin Klein runway, alas no......BUT WAIT! In walks my prince charming, or at least my prince 'best option for now' I'm eyeing him, he's eyeing me....there's...eyeing, (it's all very sexy), but suddenly I become aware of less pleasant eyeing in my midst, the middle aged single tourist in front of him eyeing the 'Moliere' playbook placed on the traytable in front of me which I have irresponsibly not pushed back into its full upright position!
"Oh, I LOVE Tartuffe!"...and with those four words and the four that follow, "Can...I...sit...here?", she becomes my feuding relatives, my Titanic, my Angelina Jolie... the one thing that keeps me from my true love. *sigh*
The damn Moliere book didn't even have Tartuffe in it....
And as the plane crashed down she thought...well isn't this nice. And isn't it ironic...don't you think?
-Heather