In a Smoky Music Hall
The past several days have been decidedly strange, and I'd say it's probably a result of eating nothing but matzoh, peanut butter, and bananas for the past eight days. I badly crave a biscuit, and a bowl of cereal, and perhaps some rice. Mm...rice.
Tonight is the end of it all, and Baby and I plan to celebrate like kings with a big delicious pizza. I can't remember the last time I had pizza. Ah, the unmatched burden of being a Jew.
But yes, an extreme sense of uneasiness permeated throughout the entire weekend. Especially on Saturday night, when Jenny and I went to a concert in a very sketchy area of Columbus (AMAZING concert, by the way) and were, um, bothered by a pair of extremely skeezy men. They seemed friendly enough at first, in a drunk and funny sort of "okay, we'll humor them" kind of way, but then there was touching and stroking and arms around shoulders and now whenever I think about it I kind of start to itch. Not to mention, as irked as we were with them, we were also forced to worry about their safety for the rest of the night because they claimed they were driving home. When I tried adamently suggesting that they call a taxi, I was met with slurs and arguments like "It's cool, Baby...god, you're so hot..."
Jenny was way too nice to them, and apparently I was too, even though I could have sworn I was being a bitch. I kept telling them how they were ugly and annoying and they should leave because Jenny and I were clearly out of their league. All I got in response was "Wow, you're so HONEST! I LOVE you!" So apparently, Jenny and I really need to work on our intimidation skills.
Sunday was weird because I slept all day, despite it being Easter, which I didn't really remember or notice at any point throughout the day. (Except when Chelsea brought me an Easter basket in the evening, which was SO CUTE AND I LOVE HER.)
On Monday, when I went to the gym, I started running on the treadmill before I realized that I still had my jeans on. So I went downstairs, back to the locker room, changed, and resumed running. I had exercise cramps, which I haven't gotten in years, but I decided to just run it out. Then I started heaving onto the treadmill. As in, if there was food in my stomach, I would have thrown up in the middle of the gym. So I ran to the bathroom, heaving, and stopped once I got the toilet, because that's the way the world works. What is WRONG with me?
Okay, rant complete. Sorry this was a disjointed and purposeless entry. Hopefully life will return to normal after my first bite of Papa Johns. We shall see.
Tonight is the end of it all, and Baby and I plan to celebrate like kings with a big delicious pizza. I can't remember the last time I had pizza. Ah, the unmatched burden of being a Jew.
But yes, an extreme sense of uneasiness permeated throughout the entire weekend. Especially on Saturday night, when Jenny and I went to a concert in a very sketchy area of Columbus (AMAZING concert, by the way) and were, um, bothered by a pair of extremely skeezy men. They seemed friendly enough at first, in a drunk and funny sort of "okay, we'll humor them" kind of way, but then there was touching and stroking and arms around shoulders and now whenever I think about it I kind of start to itch. Not to mention, as irked as we were with them, we were also forced to worry about their safety for the rest of the night because they claimed they were driving home. When I tried adamently suggesting that they call a taxi, I was met with slurs and arguments like "It's cool, Baby...god, you're so hot..."
Jenny was way too nice to them, and apparently I was too, even though I could have sworn I was being a bitch. I kept telling them how they were ugly and annoying and they should leave because Jenny and I were clearly out of their league. All I got in response was "Wow, you're so HONEST! I LOVE you!" So apparently, Jenny and I really need to work on our intimidation skills.
Sunday was weird because I slept all day, despite it being Easter, which I didn't really remember or notice at any point throughout the day. (Except when Chelsea brought me an Easter basket in the evening, which was SO CUTE AND I LOVE HER.)
On Monday, when I went to the gym, I started running on the treadmill before I realized that I still had my jeans on. So I went downstairs, back to the locker room, changed, and resumed running. I had exercise cramps, which I haven't gotten in years, but I decided to just run it out. Then I started heaving onto the treadmill. As in, if there was food in my stomach, I would have thrown up in the middle of the gym. So I ran to the bathroom, heaving, and stopped once I got the toilet, because that's the way the world works. What is WRONG with me?
Okay, rant complete. Sorry this was a disjointed and purposeless entry. Hopefully life will return to normal after my first bite of Papa Johns. We shall see.