Having received confirmation that Professor Morris has, in fact, found this blog--whether before or after yesterday's shout-out, it's impossible to say--I feel compelled to talk about something that matters. Something about politics or current events, or at least a kind of witty observation about human nature. You know.
So...look for that soon. Today I've got some petty whining about the sale of residential realty.
But before I get to that, on a point cryptically related to the above (the professor, not the whining), I've linked to my friend CS' blog, The Reliant, along the right side of this page. CS (sometimes she uses just her first name, sometimes just her last; we'll use neither to be safe) is a 1L here at UVA. She's brilliant, and also hilarious, though that second part doesn't come through all that well on her blog, which is all about things that really matter. Someday, I hope to understand enough about international politics to make it all the way through an entry like the one from March 12. Very much worth a link nonetheless; maybe you'll get what she's talking about. And there's always the chance that she'll say something characteristically funny. At the very least, you'll think I know smart people, making me appear smarter by extension.
So we're selling our house. I'm a bit sad to be doing so in the first place; I like this house, and it's about twice as large as the sort of place we're likely to end up getting in Chicago (and cost us about 60% as much money as we're likely to spend there). But here's something you don't hear much about (actually, it's something that everybody talks about when they're going through it, but then if you're not going through it--as you aren't--you just sit there and get annoyed and roll your eyes when other people talk about it--as I am--and don't really think about it until you're going through it): selling one's home really sucks. I mean, really.
It's not just all the cleaning and putting things in storage, although that's taken hours and hours and was really quite a colossal pain in the rear. It's having to constantly keep things clean. And not just clean, but the kind of clean that gives the illusion that nobody actually lives here. I have to keep my toothbrush under the sink, for example. And make the bed.
On top of that, I have to be ready to leave at essentially every moment. Some stranger calls and says she's on her way, and I have to take my dog and get the hell out. Of my own home. I mean, I haven't had to do that yet (just went on the market today, in fact), but I will. And I won't be happy.
I mean, I can't complain too much about it, for no reason other than that our real estate agent is also my aunt. But man.
Until next time. I'll keep thinking.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
Not Dead Yet
This blog isn't, that is. I'm hoping this will be more than a once-a-week thing, perhaps starting as early as this week.
So the Show was last week, and was everything I'd hoped and then some. I got to make fun of Packer fans and dress up as a gender-bending glam rocker. See?
Oah, jeeze, come on in dere!
The girl in the upper picture is the makeup artist who did this horrible thing to me. Anyway, it was amazingly fun. Tickets sold well, and the show went over well. I was up until 3:30-5 am every night, and still kind of waiting to recover. You'd never believe how many talented and, especially, incredibly funny people you can find at a law school (or at least at UVA Law School). I'm going to miss it terribly, but looking forward to sitting and watching the whole thing next year (assuming I can escape the office for a day or two).
This weekend is the annual UVA Law Softball Tournament. Some 100 teams from other law schools come out to UVA for a weekend every year to, essentially, live like a Virginia law student and get soundly beaten by a Virginia law softball team. This is the first year that I'm "playing" in the tournament; I'm on the least competitive of our six teams and probably won't play in the field much, but it's exciting to be a part of it. I'll hope to check in over the weekend with photos and amusing anecdotes (there are many from the Libel Show, but I'm not sure which I can/should share).
To that end, true story: just a few short minutes ago (hey, I type fast), I was in class and was lectured on the dangers of maintaining a blog and facebook profile, because employers and such can see them. Which is, of course, a perfectly valid point (and a hearty hello to Prof. Morris, if she's reading this). It's a little scary. But, horrifying stage makeup aside, I don't think there's anything particularly controversial (or even, frankly, anything all that interesting to anyone but me) about all of this. I trust you to let me know immediately if that ever changes.
Finally, one more very funny/interesting thing I've found that is probably common knowledge among the general web-obsessed public but is brand new to me: OverheardInNewYork.com (as well as its companion sites, overheard at the beach and office). It's fascinating, and updated with astounding frequency. Enjoy!
So the Show was last week, and was everything I'd hoped and then some. I got to make fun of Packer fans and dress up as a gender-bending glam rocker. See?
Oah, jeeze, come on in dere!
The girl in the upper picture is the makeup artist who did this horrible thing to me. Anyway, it was amazingly fun. Tickets sold well, and the show went over well. I was up until 3:30-5 am every night, and still kind of waiting to recover. You'd never believe how many talented and, especially, incredibly funny people you can find at a law school (or at least at UVA Law School). I'm going to miss it terribly, but looking forward to sitting and watching the whole thing next year (assuming I can escape the office for a day or two).
This weekend is the annual UVA Law Softball Tournament. Some 100 teams from other law schools come out to UVA for a weekend every year to, essentially, live like a Virginia law student and get soundly beaten by a Virginia law softball team. This is the first year that I'm "playing" in the tournament; I'm on the least competitive of our six teams and probably won't play in the field much, but it's exciting to be a part of it. I'll hope to check in over the weekend with photos and amusing anecdotes (there are many from the Libel Show, but I'm not sure which I can/should share).
To that end, true story: just a few short minutes ago (hey, I type fast), I was in class and was lectured on the dangers of maintaining a blog and facebook profile, because employers and such can see them. Which is, of course, a perfectly valid point (and a hearty hello to Prof. Morris, if she's reading this). It's a little scary. But, horrifying stage makeup aside, I don't think there's anything particularly controversial (or even, frankly, anything all that interesting to anyone but me) about all of this. I trust you to let me know immediately if that ever changes.
Finally, one more very funny/interesting thing I've found that is probably common knowledge among the general web-obsessed public but is brand new to me: OverheardInNewYork.com (as well as its companion sites, overheard at the beach and office). It's fascinating, and updated with astounding frequency. Enjoy!
Monday, March 19, 2007
These shoes are three hundred f^&%ing dollars.
Saw 300 on Saturday night. That movie sucked hard. Powerful hard. It was a lot like Braveheart, if Braveheart had been written, produced and directed by developmentally challenged seven year-olds who had played a lot of really unrealistically violent video games rather than by a drunken anti-Semite who happens to be really, really good at making movies.
On Friday we had about a dozen friends over for a four-days-late birthday party. The classic combination of wine, gourmet pizza, cookies and leftover birthday cake. It was a great time. Not much more to say about it, except some of my friends showed me the video below. There's a whole lot of amateur crap masquerading as comedy on YouTube, but this almost makes it all worthwhile. Some dirty language and stuff, and it gets better as it goes:
We had our first Libel Show run through last night. We have another tonight and one tomorrow before the show opens on Wednesday. At the end of this week (Saturday through Friday), I'll have spent approximately 42 hours in Caplin Auditorium, around the same amount of time sleeping, perhaps eight hours in class, and precisely 0 hours studying. In other words, it'll be the best week ever, and then I'll sleep for a day or so.
On Friday we had about a dozen friends over for a four-days-late birthday party. The classic combination of wine, gourmet pizza, cookies and leftover birthday cake. It was a great time. Not much more to say about it, except some of my friends showed me the video below. There's a whole lot of amateur crap masquerading as comedy on YouTube, but this almost makes it all worthwhile. Some dirty language and stuff, and it gets better as it goes:
We had our first Libel Show run through last night. We have another tonight and one tomorrow before the show opens on Wednesday. At the end of this week (Saturday through Friday), I'll have spent approximately 42 hours in Caplin Auditorium, around the same amount of time sleeping, perhaps eight hours in class, and precisely 0 hours studying. In other words, it'll be the best week ever, and then I'll sleep for a day or so.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Past my peak
Among baseball geeks, there's a school of thought (formed, basically, by exaggerating the importance of and grossly misapplying a real statistical trend) that essentially holds that age 27 is the ideal, peak-performance year for a ballplayer. It's been inflated by some to the point where a player's "age-27 season" has kind of a mystical, magical quality to it.
On the other hand, another, more realistic group says that a player's "peak years" run right up through age 32. So I've got five good years left in me.
I'm not thrilled to be spending my birthday in Libel Show rehearsals until 10:00 p.m., but there are worse things. I mean, I'm sure there are going to be people at the school at that time that will be, like, studying and stuff. No one I know (or care to), but people.
When I said away back in February that I'd be bringing you stuff from other places that I find funny, I never would have guessed that the very second one I brought to you would be a stand-up comedienne, or, even less likely, a ventriloquist, but I find this woman kind of awkwardly hilarious (it's a bit raunchy, but just a bit):
Her name (as it may say in that clip) is Nina Conti. We watched For Your Consideration two nights ago, and while it had its moments, I found it really disappointingly lazy for a Christopher Guest film (basically Waiting for Guffman goes Hollywood and loses most of its wit and charm on the way). But Conti (with her monkey) plays a weather woman on the local a.m. news program, and there's a lengthy clip of her doing her material in the bonus features, and I think the DVD is worth a look just for her. Cute and funny. And really a very talented ventriloquist, for whatever that's worth.
Off to continue "enjoying" my "birthday."
On the other hand, another, more realistic group says that a player's "peak years" run right up through age 32. So I've got five good years left in me.
I'm not thrilled to be spending my birthday in Libel Show rehearsals until 10:00 p.m., but there are worse things. I mean, I'm sure there are going to be people at the school at that time that will be, like, studying and stuff. No one I know (or care to), but people.
When I said away back in February that I'd be bringing you stuff from other places that I find funny, I never would have guessed that the very second one I brought to you would be a stand-up comedienne, or, even less likely, a ventriloquist, but I find this woman kind of awkwardly hilarious (it's a bit raunchy, but just a bit):
Her name (as it may say in that clip) is Nina Conti. We watched For Your Consideration two nights ago, and while it had its moments, I found it really disappointingly lazy for a Christopher Guest film (basically Waiting for Guffman goes Hollywood and loses most of its wit and charm on the way). But Conti (with her monkey) plays a weather woman on the local a.m. news program, and there's a lengthy clip of her doing her material in the bonus features, and I think the DVD is worth a look just for her. Cute and funny. And really a very talented ventriloquist, for whatever that's worth.
Off to continue "enjoying" my "birthday."
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Kids, imagination, and tragedy, take two
I think the best book I ever read as a kid was Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson, which I read in either third or fourth grade. It seems most people I know around my age read it at some point and have at least a vague memory of it. I wasn't exactly averse to reading as a kid, but I remember attacking that book like no other. It's the story of a boy and girl, both just a year or two older than I was then, who develop a powerful friendship and help each other through difficulties at school and at home by imagining a rich fantasy world that they create in the nearby woods. The girl in particular, Leslie, is an unusually endearing character; a bit awkward and bizarre but astoundingly self-confident and imaginative, she becomes in an odd way sort of the wise old sage to the boy's (Jess') naive apprentice--though they're the same age--teaching him how to use his imagination and talents to enliven and enrich his otherwise awkward and frustrating preadolescent life. Then real life intervenes, in a surprising and heartbreaking way.
It's hard to describe how deeply this book affected me way back when, though I suppose the fact that I remember it so well almost twenty years later gives you a hint. The characters were so well drawn (for a children's book, especially) that I was completely engrossed. I felt like Jess, and I really, really wanted a friend like Leslie (as I suspect almost every boy that age does). And it was the first book I remember reading--in fact, probably the first story I ever came across in any medium--in which real-life tragedy strikes a "good guy" (let alone one I could really identify with). I cried, a lot, and had to have a long talk with my mom about it. I don't think I was the same for a few days after that, which, when you consider how quickly kids recover, was really something for a little book.
So when I saw the trailer for the Disney film based on the book, I was (to overstate it slightly) offended. The book was about fantasy as an aspect of a lively imagination, not about fantasy as a film genre. The trailer, which you can see here, and other advertisements promise a non-stop adventure with trolls and other creatures (possibly even robots?), a la Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. That's a complete bastardization of the book's heart and message--in other words, pretty much how you expect Disney to roll.
But, praise be, it was the marketing firm that ruined it, not the filmmakers (and actually, the filmmakers have disavowed any connection with those terrible ads). Aside from the fact that the film took place in 2007 rather than 1977 and has just a bit of awful Hillary Duff-like pop music, I felt very much like I was back in third or fourth grade reading the book. The few fantasy elements that are actually depicted are merely (and clearly) representations of the children's imagination, and take up a very small portion of the film. And when the movie takes its tragic turn (which I fear parents will be unprepared for, thanks to those ads), it's handled very, very well. I cried again--not quite as much as when I read the book, perhaps, but that's because I already knew the ending, not because I'm too mature for it or any such crap. This is a good film for anyone of any age that has at least some memory of once being a kid. So that means you.
One thing about this film, and all kids' movies where the main characters are outcasts: they're too pretty. I know 5th-8th grade is tough for everybody, but no one who looks like this:
and has any sort of personality at all is going to be made fun of much. The above is AnnaSophia Robb, who was also Violet Beauregarde in the excellent remake of Charlie in the Chocolate Factory and is going to be a star for at least the next couple years and possibly many more (but at age 13 you can never tell), as Leslie. The thing is, though, she's so engaging and likable that it's impossible not to suspend one's disbelief over the fact that she's supposed to be a nerd who gets ostracized just because her family doesn't own a television. It's hard to imagine any child other than Dakota Fanning getting as much out of this (already excellent) role as she does. And who wants to see yet another Dakota Fanning flick?
The boy, Josh Hutcherson from Zathura (which I will never see), does almost equally well in a less shiny but equally important featured role. Evil Terminator Robert Patrick, who once kicked the lifeless corpse of X-Files square in the head for an entire, painful season, plays the first 3/4 of the movie rather listlessly, but really shines in the final scenes. And Zooey Deschanel, who was adorable opposite Will Ferrell in Elf, is almost equally adorable here in a small but important role as the kids' hippie music teacher.
All in all, this is a great film, for kids (who are old enough to handle it) and for everybody else, whether you loved the book as a kid as I did or never heard of it. I'll be buying the DVD when it comes out, and it'll get more than a few viewings well before our children-to-be are old enough to see it.
In other news, my beautiful wife just learned that she was accepted into the University of Chicago's Master of Arts in the Humanities Program for next year. Huzzah for her! I'm very proud, and alternatives to sitting in a condo watching TV all day are good.
It's hard to describe how deeply this book affected me way back when, though I suppose the fact that I remember it so well almost twenty years later gives you a hint. The characters were so well drawn (for a children's book, especially) that I was completely engrossed. I felt like Jess, and I really, really wanted a friend like Leslie (as I suspect almost every boy that age does). And it was the first book I remember reading--in fact, probably the first story I ever came across in any medium--in which real-life tragedy strikes a "good guy" (let alone one I could really identify with). I cried, a lot, and had to have a long talk with my mom about it. I don't think I was the same for a few days after that, which, when you consider how quickly kids recover, was really something for a little book.
So when I saw the trailer for the Disney film based on the book, I was (to overstate it slightly) offended. The book was about fantasy as an aspect of a lively imagination, not about fantasy as a film genre. The trailer, which you can see here, and other advertisements promise a non-stop adventure with trolls and other creatures (possibly even robots?), a la Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. That's a complete bastardization of the book's heart and message--in other words, pretty much how you expect Disney to roll.
But, praise be, it was the marketing firm that ruined it, not the filmmakers (and actually, the filmmakers have disavowed any connection with those terrible ads). Aside from the fact that the film took place in 2007 rather than 1977 and has just a bit of awful Hillary Duff-like pop music, I felt very much like I was back in third or fourth grade reading the book. The few fantasy elements that are actually depicted are merely (and clearly) representations of the children's imagination, and take up a very small portion of the film. And when the movie takes its tragic turn (which I fear parents will be unprepared for, thanks to those ads), it's handled very, very well. I cried again--not quite as much as when I read the book, perhaps, but that's because I already knew the ending, not because I'm too mature for it or any such crap. This is a good film for anyone of any age that has at least some memory of once being a kid. So that means you.
One thing about this film, and all kids' movies where the main characters are outcasts: they're too pretty. I know 5th-8th grade is tough for everybody, but no one who looks like this:
and has any sort of personality at all is going to be made fun of much. The above is AnnaSophia Robb, who was also Violet Beauregarde in the excellent remake of Charlie in the Chocolate Factory and is going to be a star for at least the next couple years and possibly many more (but at age 13 you can never tell), as Leslie. The thing is, though, she's so engaging and likable that it's impossible not to suspend one's disbelief over the fact that she's supposed to be a nerd who gets ostracized just because her family doesn't own a television. It's hard to imagine any child other than Dakota Fanning getting as much out of this (already excellent) role as she does. And who wants to see yet another Dakota Fanning flick?
The boy, Josh Hutcherson from Zathura (which I will never see), does almost equally well in a less shiny but equally important featured role. Evil Terminator Robert Patrick, who once kicked the lifeless corpse of X-Files square in the head for an entire, painful season, plays the first 3/4 of the movie rather listlessly, but really shines in the final scenes. And Zooey Deschanel, who was adorable opposite Will Ferrell in Elf, is almost equally adorable here in a small but important role as the kids' hippie music teacher.
All in all, this is a great film, for kids (who are old enough to handle it) and for everybody else, whether you loved the book as a kid as I did or never heard of it. I'll be buying the DVD when it comes out, and it'll get more than a few viewings well before our children-to-be are old enough to see it.
In other news, my beautiful wife just learned that she was accepted into the University of Chicago's Master of Arts in the Humanities Program for next year. Huzzah for her! I'm very proud, and alternatives to sitting in a condo watching TV all day are good.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Most exciting post in blogging history?
It's been almost a week since I posted anything, but then, it's Spring Break, and I didn't go anywhere (while my friends did), so I've had nothing to post. I've been doing a lot of sleeping, and using the treadmill, and trying to get the house ready to sell. There are many worse things, really, but none of these activities provide good blogging fodder.
Apparently, "none...provide," rather than "none...provides," is correct. That blows my grammar-nerd mind. I mean, I have no reason to think that this is particularly trustworthy, but it sounds convincing.
When I grow up, I want to be one of those doctors whose job is to go on TV and scare the mother-loving piss out of people by talking about the latent dangers in things that everyone does all the time and lives to tell about it. The guy on Regis and Kelly right now (and I'm not nearly as okay with watching Regis and Kelly as I am with crying at movies; it just happened to be on after I finished watching the Tivo'ed Daily Show) is some kind of expert on germs and contagions and the like, and just said that a single drop of vomit or diarrhea can infect a million people. Therefore, America's largest terrorist threat is, in fact, our own children ages 0-9. It's so simple! Bring our boys home. And then send them into our homes. This threat must be neutralized.
In a similar vein, there was a guy on the Today Show the other day (may actually have been the same guy--they all have wild gray hair and bushy mustaches, which I suppose they think makes them look like Einstein or something) talking about how long it was safe to keep different foods in your fridge/freezer/pantry. I don't want to exaggerate or misrepresent what he said or anything, but I'm pretty sure the gist was that if you've had that TV dinner in your freezer for more than twelve hours, you're going to die. Don't even look at it.
And that's really all there is to talk about. Back to the cleaning.
Apparently, "none...provide," rather than "none...provides," is correct. That blows my grammar-nerd mind. I mean, I have no reason to think that this is particularly trustworthy, but it sounds convincing.
When I grow up, I want to be one of those doctors whose job is to go on TV and scare the mother-loving piss out of people by talking about the latent dangers in things that everyone does all the time and lives to tell about it. The guy on Regis and Kelly right now (and I'm not nearly as okay with watching Regis and Kelly as I am with crying at movies; it just happened to be on after I finished watching the Tivo'ed Daily Show) is some kind of expert on germs and contagions and the like, and just said that a single drop of vomit or diarrhea can infect a million people. Therefore, America's largest terrorist threat is, in fact, our own children ages 0-9. It's so simple! Bring our boys home. And then send them into our homes. This threat must be neutralized.
In a similar vein, there was a guy on the Today Show the other day (may actually have been the same guy--they all have wild gray hair and bushy mustaches, which I suppose they think makes them look like Einstein or something) talking about how long it was safe to keep different foods in your fridge/freezer/pantry. I don't want to exaggerate or misrepresent what he said or anything, but I'm pretty sure the gist was that if you've had that TV dinner in your freezer for more than twelve hours, you're going to die. Don't even look at it.
And that's really all there is to talk about. Back to the cleaning.
Friday, March 2, 2007
A Collection of Clearly Connected, Non-Random Items
This is my all-time favorite SportsCenter commercial (and there have been so many great ones):
I went to see Pan's Labyrinth tonight with my beautiful wife. It was gory, and weird, and subtitled, and fabulous. I cried. (I cry at movies sometimes...I'm okay with that.) I probably wouldn't be able to sit through it again, but I'd recommend it to anyone who could handle, say, the first eleven minutes of Saving Private Ryan.
When we were waiting in line for popcorn--which is really the only reason we go to the movies rather than waiting for the DVD--we discovered that waiting behind us was one of Charlottesville's three biggest stars. No, not Dave Matthews, and not John Grisham. It was none other than Howie Long, star of many enjoyable commercials and such action-packed cinematical smash hits as Firestorm.
He's much taller than he looks on TV, but I suppose one should expect that of an action superstar (I heard he used to be a decent football player, too, and they're sometimes kinda tall). He was also very scruffy, and oblivious--the poor girl behind the counter must've said "I can help the next person" half a dozen times before she finally said "Mr. Long?" in a kind of politely irritated voice.
I mean, I shouldn't make fun of the guy, except for that Firestorm thing. Seems like a good guy, from what one can tell (which is to say, from nothing at all), and of the two most visible personalities on the Fox Sports NFL pregame show, he's the one who doesn't typically have me reevaluating the merits of eugenics. So, it was good to see ol' Howie. I guess. Honestly, I'll have forgotten it by next week. My mother, sister, and wife saw (-slash-stalked) Dave Matthews on the downtown mall some three months ago, and will never forget it. I'm pretty sure my little sister's life has been forever changed.
That's pretty much all I got. Here's an old picture of my dog:
I went to see Pan's Labyrinth tonight with my beautiful wife. It was gory, and weird, and subtitled, and fabulous. I cried. (I cry at movies sometimes...I'm okay with that.) I probably wouldn't be able to sit through it again, but I'd recommend it to anyone who could handle, say, the first eleven minutes of Saving Private Ryan.
When we were waiting in line for popcorn--which is really the only reason we go to the movies rather than waiting for the DVD--we discovered that waiting behind us was one of Charlottesville's three biggest stars. No, not Dave Matthews, and not John Grisham. It was none other than Howie Long, star of many enjoyable commercials and such action-packed cinematical smash hits as Firestorm.
He's much taller than he looks on TV, but I suppose one should expect that of an action superstar (I heard he used to be a decent football player, too, and they're sometimes kinda tall). He was also very scruffy, and oblivious--the poor girl behind the counter must've said "I can help the next person" half a dozen times before she finally said "Mr. Long?" in a kind of politely irritated voice.
I mean, I shouldn't make fun of the guy, except for that Firestorm thing. Seems like a good guy, from what one can tell (which is to say, from nothing at all), and of the two most visible personalities on the Fox Sports NFL pregame show, he's the one who doesn't typically have me reevaluating the merits of eugenics. So, it was good to see ol' Howie. I guess. Honestly, I'll have forgotten it by next week. My mother, sister, and wife saw (-slash-stalked) Dave Matthews on the downtown mall some three months ago, and will never forget it. I'm pretty sure my little sister's life has been forever changed.
That's pretty much all I got. Here's an old picture of my dog:
Thursday, March 1, 2007
On Growing Old
Over the past three nights, I've gotten 5, 6, and 2 1/2 hours of sleep. In college, I'd have called that little phenomenon "Every Monday through Wednesday." Now, though, I'm pretty sure that if this keeps up I'll be dead by April.
I turn twenty-eight a week from Monday. I don't think I really believed that there was a difference between twenty-eight and twenty-two back when I was twenty-two. But Oh. My. God. I feel like there are gumbands around my wrists and ankles and every move is a little harder, stretches them a bit more, and at any given moment I might be snapped back the 13 miles into my bed. I know there's a class going on in front of me right now, and other people are participating in it, and I even know what it's called (Professional Responsibility). But that's all I know.
The main culprit is The Libel Show, which will have a much prettier website up in a week or two. I'm the music director, and it's fun and fabulous, and ensures that I don't start my reading (or more likely, watch TV or whatever other stupid stuff I feel like I have to do) until midnight or so. And then there's last night, where I was at a party until 2am, and then, despite being completely (well, undoubtedly legally) sober, decided that IMing until almost 4:30 was a good idea. The moral of this story: I'm some kind of superhuman genius freak who clearly deserves to be paid obscene amounts of money starting in six months or so. Clearly.
In other news, the Twins are playing baseball again and McCain is in the race. Both mundane and virtually meaningless formalities that portend much, much better things to come.
I turn twenty-eight a week from Monday. I don't think I really believed that there was a difference between twenty-eight and twenty-two back when I was twenty-two. But Oh. My. God. I feel like there are gumbands around my wrists and ankles and every move is a little harder, stretches them a bit more, and at any given moment I might be snapped back the 13 miles into my bed. I know there's a class going on in front of me right now, and other people are participating in it, and I even know what it's called (Professional Responsibility). But that's all I know.
The main culprit is The Libel Show, which will have a much prettier website up in a week or two. I'm the music director, and it's fun and fabulous, and ensures that I don't start my reading (or more likely, watch TV or whatever other stupid stuff I feel like I have to do) until midnight or so. And then there's last night, where I was at a party until 2am, and then, despite being completely (well, undoubtedly legally) sober, decided that IMing until almost 4:30 was a good idea. The moral of this story: I'm some kind of superhuman genius freak who clearly deserves to be paid obscene amounts of money starting in six months or so. Clearly.
In other news, the Twins are playing baseball again and McCain is in the race. Both mundane and virtually meaningless formalities that portend much, much better things to come.
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