She's whiskey in a teacup, she gives blondes a lousy name......
Well, after a strange and emotionally taxing weekend, things seem to be returning to a somewhat normal state. I don't feel as though I am going to throw up every five minutes anymore due to a complete lack of control over my life-which is always nice.
John and I spent a wonderful evening the other night watching "Fishing With John," which is possibly my favorite television series of all time. For those who have not seen it, imagine an artsy New York junkie who knows nothing about fishing taking the likes of Tom Waits, Dennis Hopper, Willem Defoe, Jim Jarmusch, and Matt Dillon to exotic places around the world to go "fishing." Basically, they all get really fucked up and funny commentary is added by the narrator, for example: "Lon has wooden legs, but his feet are real." It was fun times.
Last night I hung out with Sterl and Bob, made some trout, drank some champagne, and then brought my leftovers home for John. Trout and champagne-quality combination.
My 21st birthday is finally coming in a mere three weeks. However, Rosemary-who has been in charge of my birthday forever-is bailing on me to move to fucking stupid New Mexico like a total biotch. Although this completely ruins my birthday and breaks my little icy heart, she is still going to take me for drinks at the Wildrose on the afternoon of my birthday. We are going to dress up like Kraftwerk-you know, red shirts, black ties, red lipstick, slicked hair, it should be hot. I would really like to go to the War Room, and I hear a rumor from Sterl that Kammee might have invited some people there. It's Tuesday, August 16th, so if anyone wants to show up, I'm hoping that it will be a fun time for all.
Finally, I purchased Sigur Ros tickets for John, Nick, and I. I am overwhelmingly excited for the show, and the only part about Rosemary moving that brings me any joy is that I get to rub in her face the fact that I get to see one of the world's most amazing bands and she doesn't. (Take that, jerk.) *Nate-if you are out there still, let's have that reunion soon. You should come to the War Room for our birthday! I would love to see you before Sigur Ros.
John and I spent a wonderful evening the other night watching "Fishing With John," which is possibly my favorite television series of all time. For those who have not seen it, imagine an artsy New York junkie who knows nothing about fishing taking the likes of Tom Waits, Dennis Hopper, Willem Defoe, Jim Jarmusch, and Matt Dillon to exotic places around the world to go "fishing." Basically, they all get really fucked up and funny commentary is added by the narrator, for example: "Lon has wooden legs, but his feet are real." It was fun times.
Last night I hung out with Sterl and Bob, made some trout, drank some champagne, and then brought my leftovers home for John. Trout and champagne-quality combination.
My 21st birthday is finally coming in a mere three weeks. However, Rosemary-who has been in charge of my birthday forever-is bailing on me to move to fucking stupid New Mexico like a total biotch. Although this completely ruins my birthday and breaks my little icy heart, she is still going to take me for drinks at the Wildrose on the afternoon of my birthday. We are going to dress up like Kraftwerk-you know, red shirts, black ties, red lipstick, slicked hair, it should be hot. I would really like to go to the War Room, and I hear a rumor from Sterl that Kammee might have invited some people there. It's Tuesday, August 16th, so if anyone wants to show up, I'm hoping that it will be a fun time for all.
Finally, I purchased Sigur Ros tickets for John, Nick, and I. I am overwhelmingly excited for the show, and the only part about Rosemary moving that brings me any joy is that I get to rub in her face the fact that I get to see one of the world's most amazing bands and she doesn't. (Take that, jerk.) *Nate-if you are out there still, let's have that reunion soon. You should come to the War Room for our birthday! I would love to see you before Sigur Ros.