I may be awesome at papers...

...but I am not awesome at philosophy. I can not concentrate on reading these books. I pretty much want to die. DIE!!!! Why did I choose to write about a topic about which I know nothing?!

I am awesome at papers

Even though I hand them in a month late.

My conclusion of my paper for "Camille" (I have just described that the author, Pam Gems, wanted an ending in which Marguerite doesn't die, but the producers wouldn't let her use it):


"Perhaps we shouldn’t mourn the fact that Gems didn’t get her ending. “La Dame aux Camélias” is, after all, a story of compromise: it is the story Dumas fils, who had to watch his lover sleep with other men; of Armand Duval, who nearly gave up his fortune and his lot in life for a dying woman; of Marguerite Gautier, who denied herself love for the sake of her son; and of Marie Duplessis, a prisoner not only of her health, but of a myth that has shadowed who she really was. And though Marguerite has yet to live through a performance, audiences continue to make sure that her story will never die."

Oooh yeeeahhh...

Highlights from a paper I'm writing:

--"The Comedy of Errors is based on that good old-fashioned tale of mistaken identity—no really, it is based on a play that was probably written around the year 200 BC."

--"William Shakespeare found such inspiration in Plautus’ Menaechmi, or The Twin Brothers. It is a story of twin brothers (surprise!) who were separated at a very young age."

--"Thus commences a classic comedy of crumbling marriages, debtors and creditors, nearly incestuous relationships, narrowly avoided domestic violence, a courtesan, a nun, and two sets of identical twin brothers! And this was Shakespeare’s shortest play!"

I'm semi-seriously considering submitting this to Honor's Day--and I'm not even halfway done with it!

Also I should add that the paper is tentatively titled "Comedy of Errors--Comedy of Wonders!"

Exciting!

A few weeks ago Alicia Rachel Baker told me I was quickly becoming one of her favorite people; last week I was made. "You are definitely one of my favorite people" she said while laughing at one of my many witticisms.

Yessssssss.

Oh good god

So the other day Julie Brown and Norrell told me about a crazy resident of the V who isn't a student. She lives on the 10th floor, but likes to use the men's single shower on the 4th floor. When some boys told her that they were for students only, she wrote Julie a crazy letter. I got to read it. It was incomprehensible and babbling. She attached her business card to it. She is the type of "clown" that gives clowns a bad name.

I am in the computer lab, minding my own business on the one out of five computers her that works. Enter who I immediately take to be said resident. She is short, with a brown bob that has bright red streaks in it. She is muttering to herself (?) about how the computers don't work, then starts talking to me about it. I make noncommittal responses. She then proceeds to fiddle with the wires of one computer, at which point I look over and notice that on the windowsill in a dog-carrying bag is a rabbit. A live rabbit. At first I thought it was a groundhog. I don't want that thing in the room with me.

She got the computer to work which is pretty cool, but she just now turned and asked me if I would mind if she opened the window. When I said no, she replied "Just trying to exercise a little computer courtesy." Except that she pronounced computer as "com-pooter".

I have to go. This ... no words.

Not very much

Yesterday I saw a slug on the ground.

I'm thinking about going to Paris in January. I can't afford it, but I really want to. Or maybe I'll just take a "Stage Makeup" class at school. Not the same, but way more in my price range.

Yesterday I saw "Bourne Ultimatum". It was awesome.

It reminded me of when we went to Vermont. Katie, I know you won't be in school, but can we pretend you are just so we can do something on Spring Break? Great, thanks.

Things I am trying to do in the spring/summer:
--Get an internship---with the circus??
--Perform Shakespeare---with the circus??
---in Montana??
---with the Montana circus??

That's all for now.

No joke.

Looking for an apartment in Manhattan is like willingly paying $700 to have a dog shit on your face.

T-Minus Two Days, Twelve Hours

I'm really excited for Harry Potter Seven to come out. But also, I'm really not. Then I hear about things like Harry Potter Place, NYC and I'm excited again (http://www.scholastic.com/aboutscholastic/news/press_06262007_CP.htm). Then I hear about spoilers on the Internet and I get unexcited again. In fact, I'm completely paranoid. Last night one of Kevyn's friends called him at 12.30 am to warn him not to use Facebook or the Internet at all and not to watch the news because people are putting up lists of spoilers that are way more detailed than "Snape kills Dumbledore".

(Man, wouldn't it have been awesome if UPS had figured out a way to get owls to deliver people's books to them??????)

If someone in Barnes and Noble on Friday/Saturday ruins this book for me, I will kill. Or maybe I'll just do a Julia and shout "YOU WILL BURN" at the offending party. I am hoping that the Barnes and Noble in Union Square will be a place of owls and Jim Dale and a place of love and respect for Harry Potter ; the former are guaranteed, but I'm worried about the latter.

I will share with you all the sentence I read in King Dork immediately following the end of Kevyn's phone call last night that seems eerily befitting to the situation:

"At moments like these, it's hard to tell whether you're being too paranoid or just paranoid enough."

I need to go. I've spent too much time on the Internet today.

Paris, Quatre--Le Dernier

Since my last post, I've...

-Lost my memory, apparently, since I can't remember anything we did last week
-Rehearsed a lot
-Freaked out because I thought that if I wanted to change my flight I would have to buy a ticket for $3300
-Spoken to Pascal at Continental who assured me that that wouldn't happen
-Changed my flight to tomorrow at 1.40 pm
-Rehearsed some more
-Worried that our show would get rained out
-Been checked out by the creepy coke addict sound guy, Bruno
-Been in a totally awesome (if not entirely what we rehearsed so much) show about trains
-Become best friends with 9-year old Enzo by playing car racing games on his PSP
-Gotten really drunk on champagne with some really awesome people
-Gotten a huge scrape on my elbow by falling down steep stairs whilst being really drunk
-Said goodbye to all of my new friends
-Attempted to take Real World-style photos of each of them departing
-Been disappointed by my guidebooks
-Seen the Arc de Triomphe (more like Arc de Let Down)
-Walked the Champs-Elysee
-Seen a pigeon nibbling at dog poop
-Gotten a kiss from one Pascal Laurent (who also told me that I was lovely)
-Packed to come home

(Claire, did I forget anything?)

I'm about to go see the Eiffel Tower all lit up, I figured that was a fitting thing to do my last night here since I can't find any midnight shows of Harry Potter. I am assuming, Katie, that you'll be seeing it again almost the instant I get back (which is around 4.30 tomorrow afternoon).

I can't wait to be home!

Au revoir, Paris!

(Pictures to follow on Facebook)

Paris, Trois

Since my last post I've...

--Almost seen Gregorian chanting with Lizz
--Seen Lizz!! (Her hair was braided and she wore African dresses every day!)
--Smelled 300-year old pee at Versailles
--Gotten rope burns from learning to the trapeze
--Chatted with circus performers
--Walked on meter-high stilts
--Had maybe the best meal of my life at Super Nature
--Had the best macaroons in Paris at Laduree
--Visited the Catacombs, Pere Lachaise Cemetary and the Garden of Childhood Fears all in one day
--Celebrated the birthday of the only male in our group by ordering a Jack and Coke to his Cosmo
--Been one of the "very rare cases" to burn myself on Ace laundry detergent
--Celebrated the Fourth of July by waiting an hour and a half for overpriced, mediocre American food at the Hard Rock Cafe

See you all soonish!

Paris deux

Things I've done since my last post:

-Reprised the audition for Sleeping Beauty by getting to act like wind
-Feted la musique with all of France on June 21st, the Fete de la Musique
-Arrived in Rouen, the site of Joan of Arc's burning
-Seen some really great street theatre
-Gotten attacked
-Seen some really bad street theatre
-Drunk hard cider on the site where Joan was burnt
-Read aloud from a book called "The Secrets of the Model Dorm"

Yeah.

Paris.

Things I have done since I've gotten here:

--Eaten raw steak
--Fallen in love with Jean-Paul Gaultier
--Convinced a Swedish model that I'm a professional face painter
--Seen a man eat a balloon animal balloon
--Drunk wine out of a baby bottle
--Sung "Santaria" in front of a crowd on the steps of Sacre Coeur
--Had a rainy picnic beneath the Eiffel Tower
--Ribbon dancing

Oh yeah.

My dad thinks I am a master of the French language. I am just about to call a French businessman to try to arrange a time for an American businessman to call him. I guess. I don't even really know. All I know is that this phone call will take place in a French that I definitely don't speak--business French. Also, in my nervousness about this conversation, I have completely forgotten English and can't tell if I've spelled business correctly despite Spell Check's insistence that I have. OH GOD SAVE ME FROM MYSELF!

I just did it. If this company dies, it is so not my fault.

Master Baker?

Sometime in the recent past I ate a delicious Seven-Layer Bar at a bake sale and scavenged my mother's cook books for the recipe, to no avail. It was a heavenly mix of graham crackers, chocolate, peanut butter and coconut... but that was only four layers. So yesterday I went into Whole Foods when I was much too hungry to be doing any sort of food shopping and proceeded to buy the ingredients necessary for my own recipe of Seven-Layer Bars. I wanted a graham cracker crust, a layer of peanut butter and a layer of brownie, sprinkled with coconut and walnuts.

I go back to Kevyn's where I have the house to myself...perfect time for kitchen experiments. Preheat the oven. Melt a bar of butter. Crumble up some graham crackers. This is very tedious and trying for the fingers. After I feel like I've got enough crumbs, I stick the mix in the pan. There are some bare patches, but I carry on. I begin to refer to them as the Heart Attack Bar as I've already used an entire stick off butter and this is only Layer One. Next I melt a bag of peanut butter chips and spread them on top of the graham cracker crust. Of course, Kevyn doesn't have a spatula or any sort of real spreading tool, so I use the back of a spoon. Inefficient. The graham cracker crust keeps coming up and mixing with the peanut butter. Next I mix the brownie batter. I have planned to only do half, but then I'm thinking that actual brownies might be too heavy, so I decide to eliminate the egg to make them gooier. So I throw in half the mix, add some water (a little too much, I realize, a little too late) then some vegetable oil, mix that all up, pour it onto the peanut butter layer. I start crumbling walnuts, but this, too, is trying on the fingers and I give up when I have enough for only half the pan. I decide to say that I did that on purpose. A Nut side and a No Nut side. Then comes the coconut. Oil is already seeping up from the bottom.

I stick it in the oven for 15 minutes and start to wash the many dishes I've used. 15 minutes later I pull it out of the oven, knowing that it won't have fully cooked, but I was not expecting it to have melted. It is a gooey, gross looking mess. I stick in in for another 20 minutes. When I come back, the edges look cooked, but the inside is still very gooey. So gooey, in fact, it's like lava. So much like lava, in fact, it's boiling. That was disquieting. I stick in back in the oven for another 20 minutes. After that is over, I pull it out. The inside is still gooey, but I realize that if it's boiling, it will continue to cook itself without the help of the oven. The amount of oil that is bubbling over the surface is disgusting. I try to sop some up with a paper towel. I'm actually pretty successful, and once a lot of the oil is removed, the concoction looks done.

Kevyn comes home after it's cooled a little so I decide to cut us some pieces to see if it's edible. The graham cracker crust has to be scooped onto our plates with a spoon, but it's definitely edible. Sort of delicious even. After we had dinner, Kevyn even went back for another square, a la mode this time.

I begin to realize something. I've always thought that I was better at baking than cooking. When you cook, everything is To Taste. Throw in as much as you want of whatever you want and it'll come out more or less fine. Baking is not like that. Baking requires precision and exact measurements. I realized that I cook like I'm baking--seeking specificity and rules--and that I bake like I'm cooking. I didn't measure how much water and oil I put into the brownie mix. I just threw it in, knowing that there needed to be more oil. I've decided that after Kevyn and I finish this batch of Heart Attack Bars and we both have recovered from our double bypass surgeries, I will try again. This time with a lot more forethought and measuring.

Purchases I Made Today in Desperation

--Bottle of orange juice and Sarah Lee corn muffin
--Luna bar and banana
--Study Abroad: Paris; Frommer's Irreverent Guide to Paris; 25 Ultimate Experiences: France; Man Walks into a Room by Nicole Krauss
--The French Chef Cookbook by Julia Child; a set of three Moleskine journals, unlined
--Mustard colored dress from Forever 21

Do you ever find yourself pulled over on the shoulder of the New Jersey Turnpike with a cracked windshield, tying the hood of a car down with shoelaces?

If not, you've never been me.

THE STORY:

So on Thursday Kevyn came to the V to help me move out. Hours before I had called my dad to see if he could do the job in case it rained, because I did not, under any circumstances, want a repeat of last year's disaster. This year, instead, became its own. However, driving home with my dad would mean missing The Office (which I did anyway) and Kevyn is more fun than Baffles. So Kevyn arrives after having gotten gas and changed his oil in Brooklyn. This is important because it leads to the first instance of hood problems. Kevyn drove from this Brooklyn gas station to the V with his hood not properly latched down. When I greeted him, he asked me if I had any string, and of course I did not. Something had happened to the hood latch so that when he tried to shut it, nothing happened. So we packed up my room and finally were ready to leave an hour after I should have been gone. Oops. During this time, Kevyn has found a shoe in his backseat and threaded the shoelace around the latch and the front of his car to hold the hood.
And we're off. We breeze through the Lincoln Tunnel, bypassing the busy 47th street entrance, opting instead for the secret one at 30th. As we get into New Jersey we're discussing the hood problem, and how we should pull over whenever we can to check that it is tied down well. Kevyn brings up the scene in Tommy Boy when the hood pops up. We both agree that we're not sure whether that's really possible. We pull over at the first rest stop: the string seems to be holding up well and my stuff is all safe in the back. Burger King isn't that appetizing so we decide to pull over at the next rest stop to eat and to find another string to add to the first.
And we're off, again. We pass IKEA and I'm thinking about how much fun that store is when there is a very loud bang and the entire windshield is obstructed by the hood that has just popped up. The windshield begins to crack. My breathing ceases entirely. We start freaking out because this just had to happen right near an on-ramp where people are zooming onto the highway and leaving us no room to pull over. All I can think about is the possibility that the windshield is going to explode on us and we will be stopped in a car in the middle of the Turnpike covered in lacerations and glass shards. Finally we pull over and Kevyn gets the hood back down. There is, of course, a humongous dent in it. Kevyn starts cursing and I suggest that we call someone. The police? AAA? He calls his dad. His dad is basically deaf. His dad is in Maryland. His dad is also drunk. His dad is no help. So Kevyn rips the shoelaces out of the shoes he's wearing and begins to lace up the front of the car again. All I can think about is how this would not have happened had I had my dad pick me up. But back to the problem at hand. Because I have all my worldly possessions in the back of his truck, I begin pulling the laces out of several pairs of my own shoes and hand them to Kevyn. He takes them and tells me to get in the car. The order is well intentioned--it's fucking freezing out--but I don't want to be sitting in the car with the cracked windshield.
Kevyn is satisfied with the job he has done, and we are off. Again. Warning lights on, we drive agonizingly slowly. I am now petrified of this drive. Finally we find the next rest stop. We pull over, park, and get out to get some much needed food. We order more Popeyes chicken and mashed potatoes than we can possibly eat. We realize that, in nearly three years, this may be our first Fast Food Date. We decide that that's enough. I call my mom. She offers to come get us if something happens again, and luckily it doesn't. The rest of the journey goes rather smoothly--I bought some small bungee cords in the gas station to secure our shoelace job. However, it's only once we're in the car and back on the highway that we realize we left all my worldly possessions in the open back of Kevyn's truck for nearly an hour. At this point, I could care less whether anyone took anything. I just want to be home.
I realize that my life may not contain tons of crazy adventures with foreign strangers, but it does seem to contain a lot of car accidents. I'm not sure I like this realization.
But we did spend most of the day yesterday making chess pieces out of clay. Oh life.

Last Weekend

Was a pretty great one.

Friday included these highlights:

--Seeing my Uncle Jim again
--Getting drunk with my family in a bar where Janet Cho works
--Meeting my brother's roommate's Irish boyfriend
--Getting margarita dumped on me by my uncle
--Getting bitten in the arm by my brother
--Hopping fences with my family
--Going to the ER with my family
--Eating good food and drinking more beer with different members of my family
--Meeting a crazy man in the waiting room of the hospital
--Getting a loving drunk dial from some of my friends who were at the boat dance

Saturday:

--Riding the T and reminiscing about the fun parts of my last trip to Boston
--Watching Doug's graduation ceremony through binoculars
--Identifying Doug in the crowd by his silver tie and then realizing that he'd shaved his head the night before
--Text messaging Doug and then watching his responses through the binoculars
--The horrible speech by Ned Negroponte about giving laptops to children in poor countries
--The awesome speech by the student speaker who I'm sure raps in his free time
--Barbeque in Brookline
--Singing the Birthday Dirge to my sister
--Other people in the restaurant requesting that we sing the Birthday Dirge again for their son
--High-speed go-karting with my family
--Being the only member of my family to get a penalty during a go-kart race

Sunday:

--Watching the woman who graciously let us stay in her house try to foist a sparkly old-lady shirt onto my mother
--Hearing her tell me that Sparkles Are My Mother's Color, as though sparkles were a color
--Disappointing FrenchToast but delicious fresh-squeezed orange juice
--Dreaming that I was a millionaire so that I could shop at a store with goreous shoes, high-waisted jeans, and short-alls that actually looked cool
--After not driving a car in several months, having my first experience doing so be in lots of traffic with crazy drivers
--Getting home
--Kevyn driving down from Brooklyn to see me and arriving at 11.30 pm
--Sleeping in my own bed

Do you ever have dreams about dreams that you just had? I do sometimes.

Tonight I'm having a pity party for myself in room 468 of the Vanderbilt YMCA. You both are invited. In fact, I'd love you to come.

It is 10am.

This morning I got up at 7.30 to try to go to Lincoln Center and get free tickets to see the New York City Ballet perform "Romeo and Juliet". The line wound around the block and I didn't get them. But when I went to the bathroom this morning to brush my teeth, I noticed a girl come out of her room and go into the shower rooms. I notice this specific girl a lot because, one, she lives on my floor, and two, we used to work at the Gap together. Since living in the same building with her, I've begun to notice what an odd drive she has. It's as though she's always determined to do whatever she's doing. Just determined.

So this particular morning, I noticed her go into the shower room. As I began to brush my teeth, she came into the bathroom and began to brush hers. I finished brushing mine, and I believe that it was in the middle of my mouthwash gargling that I realized she'd probably turned the water in the shower on to let it get warm, but I happen to know that this girl brushes her teeth forever and that the showers don't need that much time to get warm. In fact, in the time that it took me to brush my teeth, gargle mouthwash, pee, and wash my hands, she brushed her teeth. Somewhere in that time, I decided that if she hadn't left before I did, that I would go into the bathroom and turn her shower off. Sure enough, I washed my hands and she was still brushing away, finally beginning to finish up. So I went into the shower room, where, sure enough, the shower was running--and it was turned on to as hot as you can turn those knobs--and I turned it off. As I opened the door to leave, guess who is walking in. I said "Excuse me" and left.

I went back to my room and wondered what our next interaction would be like. What if we found ourselves both waiting for the elevators at the same time. Would she ask me if I'd turned the water off? What would I say?

I didn't see her until I came back from my unsuccessful ballet trek. I saw her walking down the hallway in my direction, and I averted my eyes when we passed.

I wonder what she did when she came in and the shower that had been running when she left was now off. I wonder what she thought I'd been doing in there, as there was absolutely no reason for me to be in that room. I wonder how long it took her to connect my presence with the mysterious stoppage of her water. Most of all, I wonder if she thinks I'm crazy. I probably am.

I'm having an odd week. The play is over, and though that's sort of nice, it's left me with nothing to do in my evenings. Also, Kevyn left on Monday for a ten day vacation to Las Vegas and LA. So now I have even less to do with my evenings. Somehow, though, this whole week, I've gone to bed at 1 am every night, and woken up at 8.30 am or earlier every day. It's pretty much my own doing--I keep staying up to watch Scrubs at 11.30 and midnight.

I guess that's all I've got to say.

It is several hours later now. I got up at 8.30 today to rehearse with my scene partner, who called me ten minutes before I was about to walk out the door to tell me that he was at the dentist and would be unable to rehearse. Everything he says is a lie. I decided that I could go to school, get a little work done and nap, or finish watching "Spiderman" (which I'd started last night) and then go to school. Obviously I chose Spiderman. Boy, that was a good decision.

Scooters

I've decided to make this post about scooters because I always see that as an example of what one can label one's post, and today I want to correctly label a post about scooters.

-My brother's childhood nickname was Scooter.
-Once when he was a baby my parents went out to dinner at a Chinese restaurant with him. The waiter asked what his name was; misunderstanding their reply of "It's Doug" the waiter called him "Stug" all night long.

-Has either of you ever eaten a Scooter Pie? What are they?
-If I ever go on a crosscountry musical roadtrip I will take up smoking just that I can buy "a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner's pies".

-My brother Scooter once owned a scooter. You both might remember when he drove that scooter through a school hallway.
-I told him yesterday that I wished he had driven the scooter across the platform when he graduated high school. Oh well.

-I like to see grown men in business suits riding Razor scooters around the city. It warms the cockles of my heart.

-I once ran into a purple Mack truck while riding a scooter. (That was on a vacation, so I can also label this post Vacation. Also, I fell down, so can I label this Fall as well?)
-I wasn't badly injured in this accident but I still have a fairly prominent scar from it on my arm. For a good while I had little feeling in the area where that scar was. Don't worry, it's back now.

-Mrs. Dowling called it "Scooting" when her dog would sit down on a rug or the ground and pull itself along by its front legs, effectively wiping its ass on whatever surface it was scooting on.

Anyone got any to share?

We have five rehearsals left. Half of the readers of this blog are coming to see my play. That makes it sound like a lot, but it's not. It's really not.

Also, have either of you seen the movie "The Secret of Roan Inish"? It's great.

I don't really have much to say. Actually, if I talked about my day yesterday, it would sound a lot like Katie's last post, but without the flowers and cupcakes. We went out to brunch with his family then took a two hour nap then I won in Rummy then we both painted for several hours, then we made steak and watched old episodes of NBC's Comedy Night Done Right. That's the painting I'm painting. Kevyn painted me painting. Craaaaazy, right? This morning we will make rice krispie treats and take pictures and then I will go to school and then we will go to a hookah party. And then we will sleep and sleep and sleep like babies.

I need my beauty rest for next week.

Oh god, it's next week.

Tomorrow I have to go reserve tickets for six of Kevyn's family members to come see my play. Thinking about them seeing this is, I think, what has me the most nervous. I'd rather they'd seen me in The Hobbit. One thousand times rather.

I am sitting in the library. There is a man sitting at the same table as I am, diagonally across from me. He is reading a book and lounging back in his chair. He has one arm extended into the air with which he is continually making the motion of shooting a basket. But it is so languid that it's more like a cat pawing a ball of string. This fascinated me and I watched out the corner of my eye for a while, when all of sudden he turned in my direction, and I could see that he was crying. He wiped away the tear, took a moment, and then returned to lounging and pawing. I find myself unable to stop staring at him. I really want to know what book he is reading.

L'ete

Hey World,

I got accepted to that program in France. Katie, Caitlin told me that you didn't know where in France it was. It's in Paris, France.

So, World, do you know anyone who wants to give me five thousand dollars, and an extra grand to anyone who might want to come visit me?

Thanks, World, thanks.

In the vein of a recent post that I made to Fuzeit, I often get jingles stuck in my head. Frequently it's the Outback Steakhouse song. I've had a little trouble coming to terms with this, but I'm just going to admit it: I am a fan of that song. If it were not a jingle, I would listen to it all the time.

So guys, come on.....Let's go Outback tonight, life will still be there tomorrow....

Games

Kevyn beats me at every single board game we play together. It always ends up putting me in a rather foul mood. He often tries to cheer me up by saying such heartwarming things as "You're just not good at games of strategy... do you think so too?" Then he gives up trying to cheer me and falls asleep.

It was a banner evening.

Valentine's Day

After babysitting for five hours in wet shoes and socks, Dr. Fallis at the walk-in clinic told me that I had "a little bronchitis".

So I went home, settled myself in with the bottle of white grape juice that Lizz procured for me. Then Katie came over and we watched the first disc of "Pride and Prejudice".

Half of the people who will read this already know about this because they were there.

Anyway, I hope that both of your days were just as fun as mine... and plagued by fewer illnesses.

I can't sleep. I really want to be asleep, though.

Spoonerism of the Worst Kind

Last week, Kevyn called the common gynecological exam a Pap Shmear. I told him that "shmear" was a common term for cream cheese and that he should never confuse the two again.

Today I sent out my application to study in France over the summer and my sister got accepted to college.

A week in review

Monday--I went to a yoga class that nearly killed all my muscles.
Tuesday--I babysat.
Wednesday--I babysat.
Thursday--Kevyn and I went to dinner at Sardi's before going to see Spamalot.
Friday--I babysat and then went to MOMA's free Fridays.
Saturday--Kevyn, my mom and I went to the Brooklyn Museum to see the Annie Liebowitz exhibit. On our way out, we saw Annie Liebowitz there. Then Kevyn and I watched my mom's recorded copy of Thursday's Scrubs and The Office over dinner and mudslides. We played a game called Cathedral. Kevyn kicked my mudslide all over the floor.
Sunday--Nothing much has happened yet.

Langage

I just changed the language setting of my blog to French. That doesn't mean I'll be writing in French, but it means that I'm a dork. I hope you all already knew that.

I don't really have too much to say. But that's fine because this won't be a high-traffic blog. I should change this. I should make this the best blog ever. Tell all your friends, everybody. Best Blog Ever is coming.

Eventually.

um?