TGI ... oh wait, i have a shit ton of work to do
I'm going to do this little Friday meme-game in hopes of arriving at a point of LJ-induced zen.
I'll be over here waiting for the hysterical laughter-induced tears to stop leaking from your eyes.
reading
I am back on Crescent. I like it though it feels repetitive, like I've already read these scenes, just with slightly different details. The Best People in the World and The Book Thief are calling for my attention, though; I've put off a book review until next week and I STILL don't know what I want to read.
Plus, must pick up House of Leaves soon. Excited about that one.
wearing
For some fucked-up reason I opted for a skirt. A pale brown, fake-suede (it's not even faux) skirt that I later determined needs a wash. Also, the top I seem to wear anytime I do anything with anyone: 3/4 sleeve, ballet neck black sweater over thin white tank thingy (that, shh, has a little hole in it. Actually, so does the sweater). The usual knee-high lace-up Frye boots. In the place where I stupidly got a burrito for lunch, a little girl was muttering to her mother, who said, "She coveting your shoes." The little girl was wearing red glittery Dorothy footwear, so I said, "She's got some pretty nice shoes herself!" The little girl's brother stared at my feet and said something faintly unintelligible about the difficulty of lacing such footwear. I laughed.
planning
To finish listening to this tape of last week's drinking/drink discussing, then await J's arrival, then go eat cheese and drink wine. And then go home and do more work. And then get up in the morning and do yet more work. And then go to Portland, eat tasty dad-cooked food, watch Walk the Line while drinking tasty Terminator stout, watch the Oregon v. Oregon State game we will have Tivoed during dinner, and pass out full and tipsy. On Sunday, more work will be done, though I will likely want to do nothing but play with my new pod (what shall I name it?) And then I will watch the Oscars and, for once, probably not throw things at the TV, as a) it will not be my TV, and b) I am a nincompoop who hasn't seen very many nominated movies.
And then the "work week" will start all over again. I laugh dementedly in the face of such descriptions...
writing
... and then I begin to whimper.
I'll be over here waiting for the hysterical laughter-induced tears to stop leaking from your eyes.
reading
I am back on Crescent. I like it though it feels repetitive, like I've already read these scenes, just with slightly different details. The Best People in the World and The Book Thief are calling for my attention, though; I've put off a book review until next week and I STILL don't know what I want to read.
Plus, must pick up House of Leaves soon. Excited about that one.
wearing
For some fucked-up reason I opted for a skirt. A pale brown, fake-suede (it's not even faux) skirt that I later determined needs a wash. Also, the top I seem to wear anytime I do anything with anyone: 3/4 sleeve, ballet neck black sweater over thin white tank thingy (that, shh, has a little hole in it. Actually, so does the sweater). The usual knee-high lace-up Frye boots. In the place where I stupidly got a burrito for lunch, a little girl was muttering to her mother, who said, "She coveting your shoes." The little girl was wearing red glittery Dorothy footwear, so I said, "She's got some pretty nice shoes herself!" The little girl's brother stared at my feet and said something faintly unintelligible about the difficulty of lacing such footwear. I laughed.
planning
To finish listening to this tape of last week's drinking/drink discussing, then await J's arrival, then go eat cheese and drink wine. And then go home and do more work. And then get up in the morning and do yet more work. And then go to Portland, eat tasty dad-cooked food, watch Walk the Line while drinking tasty Terminator stout, watch the Oregon v. Oregon State game we will have Tivoed during dinner, and pass out full and tipsy. On Sunday, more work will be done, though I will likely want to do nothing but play with my new pod (what shall I name it?) And then I will watch the Oscars and, for once, probably not throw things at the TV, as a) it will not be my TV, and b) I am a nincompoop who hasn't seen very many nominated movies.
And then the "work week" will start all over again. I laugh dementedly in the face of such descriptions...
writing
... and then I begin to whimper.