(no subject)
Well I think I'm officially, legally, insane. Here's why-
Saturday Gwynned and I went to Regency together as we were both feeling miserable and anti-social after our respective shitty cinco de mayos. We planned on seeing a movie, but we were hungry first so we decided to go to Bennigan's. Since we were at this 5 star dining establishment we decided to have:
Me-
a Pina Colada with an extra shot of coconut rum
a revoltingly greasy monte-cristo (which gave me acid reflux all day afterwards)
and for dessert:
a shot of rail vodka.
Gwynne-
a Scrawberry Daquiri with an extra shot of coconut rum
a bleu cheese boca burger
and for dessert:
a shot of Jim Beam with a coke chaser.
Lunch took forever so we ended up missing the film we wanted to see and just wandering through the mall semi-toasted and trying to pick ourselves up with some retail therapy. I found nothing, but she got a neat skirt. We were both pretty entertained by the fact that the Gap there is no longer a Gap, but a Gap OUTLET. We felt slightly better but not really. Sometimes spending money and drinking just isn't enough. Fabulously rotten conversation with good company, however, does seem to help.
I went to my parents house and dicked around and then went to TSI. It was fun I guess, I got a little tipsy and went home and talked to John Ansley about how he's going to marry Bruce Musser (they have a date tonight). John was irritated by my ridiculous planning of their insanely happy, amazingly wonderful life together. It's going to happen though.
I now have 8719243652398746213 imaginary boyfriends/Dreamy McDreamersons. None of them like me, and they all will never realize that I, yes I, was the one they were actually supposed to marry. Having completely irrational crushes on people I'd never really date seems far preferable to actually attempting to date any of the men I see around. Or maybe I'm just terrified of getting my heart broken again. Either way I'm crazy.
Sunday John and I woke up and went to a baby shower for some chef at Pastiche. We weren't there long, but the munchies and sangria were excellent. After that we picked up Anne-Marie and went to an organ recital at the TU center by one of his old prof's from Stetson. I enjoyed it immensely and want to try and start attending performances more often.
Beth and I are going to live together when she moves here in August. I'm really excited about it because I think we'll have a lot of fun- we get on so well and have similar demeanors and tastes. We are planning to do all sorts of cheesy things like cocktail hours and teas and symphony dates as well as going shopping for accessories to decorate wherever we end up living. I'm so gay.
I am also happy because generally I am a much neater person when I have a roommate.
I also think that we'll still be single and living together in 50 years. We'll have 38947 cats and get dressed up in what we think is really fashionable and go out and get way-too-drunk and hit on 23 year olds. So instead of being the crazy cat lady, we'll be the crazy cat people. How depressing.
Speaking of which, I want the TLC figurine about them that says "Dating is awkward, but so is becoming the crazy cat lady." Well that may be so, but what if that's what's in store for me? It seems like it'll be that way- I haven't gone on a real date in over a year. Am I that undesirable?
I'm clearly boy-crazy. I have no idea why. Well, other than the fact that I'm completely insane.
I graduate next spring. Oh the light at the end of the tunnel. I can't wait to move away from here.
I need glasses. I can't see.
I have another shrink appointment in a few weeks. With someone who's not a complete bigotted idiot. I want a lifetime prescription for xanax. Floating through life sometimes seems far preferable to actually experiencing it.
I have a huge hole in my ceiling in my bathroom and the plumbers left it a complete disgusting mess. Now instead of a leak I have little black flying bugs coming in from the hole (I think- they weren't there before the hole). It's revolting. Shouldn't they clean that all up or discount my rent or something?
I wish my tax return would come. I need money and a trip to NYC.
And finally a quote from my mother:
"Money sure as hell doesn't buy happiness, but it definitely makes misery more palatable."
Saturday Gwynned and I went to Regency together as we were both feeling miserable and anti-social after our respective shitty cinco de mayos. We planned on seeing a movie, but we were hungry first so we decided to go to Bennigan's. Since we were at this 5 star dining establishment we decided to have:
Me-
a Pina Colada with an extra shot of coconut rum
a revoltingly greasy monte-cristo (which gave me acid reflux all day afterwards)
and for dessert:
a shot of rail vodka.
Gwynne-
a Scrawberry Daquiri with an extra shot of coconut rum
a bleu cheese boca burger
and for dessert:
a shot of Jim Beam with a coke chaser.
Lunch took forever so we ended up missing the film we wanted to see and just wandering through the mall semi-toasted and trying to pick ourselves up with some retail therapy. I found nothing, but she got a neat skirt. We were both pretty entertained by the fact that the Gap there is no longer a Gap, but a Gap OUTLET. We felt slightly better but not really. Sometimes spending money and drinking just isn't enough. Fabulously rotten conversation with good company, however, does seem to help.
I went to my parents house and dicked around and then went to TSI. It was fun I guess, I got a little tipsy and went home and talked to John Ansley about how he's going to marry Bruce Musser (they have a date tonight). John was irritated by my ridiculous planning of their insanely happy, amazingly wonderful life together. It's going to happen though.
I now have 8719243652398746213 imaginary boyfriends/Dreamy McDreamersons. None of them like me, and they all will never realize that I, yes I, was the one they were actually supposed to marry. Having completely irrational crushes on people I'd never really date seems far preferable to actually attempting to date any of the men I see around. Or maybe I'm just terrified of getting my heart broken again. Either way I'm crazy.
Sunday John and I woke up and went to a baby shower for some chef at Pastiche. We weren't there long, but the munchies and sangria were excellent. After that we picked up Anne-Marie and went to an organ recital at the TU center by one of his old prof's from Stetson. I enjoyed it immensely and want to try and start attending performances more often.
Beth and I are going to live together when she moves here in August. I'm really excited about it because I think we'll have a lot of fun- we get on so well and have similar demeanors and tastes. We are planning to do all sorts of cheesy things like cocktail hours and teas and symphony dates as well as going shopping for accessories to decorate wherever we end up living. I'm so gay.
I am also happy because generally I am a much neater person when I have a roommate.
I also think that we'll still be single and living together in 50 years. We'll have 38947 cats and get dressed up in what we think is really fashionable and go out and get way-too-drunk and hit on 23 year olds. So instead of being the crazy cat lady, we'll be the crazy cat people. How depressing.
Speaking of which, I want the TLC figurine about them that says "Dating is awkward, but so is becoming the crazy cat lady." Well that may be so, but what if that's what's in store for me? It seems like it'll be that way- I haven't gone on a real date in over a year. Am I that undesirable?
I'm clearly boy-crazy. I have no idea why. Well, other than the fact that I'm completely insane.
I graduate next spring. Oh the light at the end of the tunnel. I can't wait to move away from here.
I need glasses. I can't see.
I have another shrink appointment in a few weeks. With someone who's not a complete bigotted idiot. I want a lifetime prescription for xanax. Floating through life sometimes seems far preferable to actually experiencing it.
I have a huge hole in my ceiling in my bathroom and the plumbers left it a complete disgusting mess. Now instead of a leak I have little black flying bugs coming in from the hole (I think- they weren't there before the hole). It's revolting. Shouldn't they clean that all up or discount my rent or something?
I wish my tax return would come. I need money and a trip to NYC.
And finally a quote from my mother:
"Money sure as hell doesn't buy happiness, but it definitely makes misery more palatable."