Saturday, January 29, 2005
Whew. That feels better.
Honestly, I never knew how awesome this show was back when it was on. Probably because it started when I was ten so I wasn't allowed to watch it. I can't imagine why. Last night, Kimberly blew up the apartment complex and now poor, stupid Alison is blind. Blind! And bitchy!
I missed ONE DAY this week and a lot happened in that one episode. Matt was arrested for murdering someone. I think it was for murdering the wife of his gay lover, but I could be wrong. Kimberly, I guess, went a little bit crazier than she already was and blew up the apartments WITH EVERYONE WATCHING like, look Kim, if anyone lives they're going to KNOW IT WAS YOU. Now she doesn't remember doing it and she's locked up in the Crazy Ward of the hospital.
The best part about watching it, though, is when my dad happens to come in the room. He always tries to figure out what's going on, so most of our conversations go something like this:
Dad: Whoa, what happened?
Me: Kimberly blew up the apartment complex.
Dad: Which one is Kimberly?
Me: The crazy one.
Dad: The blonde?
Me: No, that's Heather Locklear and she's not crazy, just bitchy.
Dad: So, which one is Kimberly?
Me: Bree from Desperate Housewives. The redhead.
Dad: Oh. What's Lynette's husband doing in jail?
Me: That's Matt. I'm not sure cause I missed it yesterday, but I think they think he killed someone.
Dad: His wife?
Me: No, his gay lover was the one who was married.
Me: I think his gay lover killed his wife.
Dad: Matt's wife?
Me: No! The gay lover's wife.
Dad: Oh. What's wrong with her?
Me: That's Alison. She lost her eyesight in the explosion.
Dad: I thought she was in Hong Kong.
Me: She was, but I think she came back to stop Billy's wedding.
Dad: Which one is Billy?
Me: The douchebag who married Charlotte from Sex and the City.
Dad: Wait, they got married?
Dad: So when did Alison get back from Hong Kong?
Me: I don't know, I guess yesterday.
Dad: What were all these people doing in the same apartment complex at the same time?
Me: Dad, it's MELROSE PLACE. These things just happen.
Friday, January 28, 2005
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
At first I couldn't remember what position I'd applied for, but luckily I'd started writing down all the information one I sent out my like 8 millionth resume.
I'm not sure what I think about the job I'm interviewing for; maybe I'll have a better idea tomorrow after the (short, I hope) interview. If nothing else, at least I'll get to dress up in my professional clothes and look like a grown up for a couple hours.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Maybe I should have majored in something else. Some people major in English because they're going on to law school or grad school, or because they want to teach it. I majored in English because I like to read and I like to write and I couldn't figure out what else I wanted to major in. Smart move, jackass. So far in my job search, no one is looking for anyone to write them a sonnet or to talk about why Captain Ahab was a freaking psychopath. Which I could TOTALLY do. You want me to talk about Shakespeare? Done! You want me to contrast Poe with the transcendentalists? No problem! You want me to write a paper about how the Civil War affected Whitman's poetry? Point me to a computer! You want me to like, talk on the phone and be nice to people and use my non-existent social skills? Um, let me get back to you.
I had a lot of fun as an English major, because mostly it just involved a lot of bullshitting which I am GREAT at, but it's not really helping me find a job. I think it's because there's no clear path with an English major. They told me, "Oh, you can do ANYTHING with an English major! It's so versatile!" but apparently doing anything mostly means sitting around and watching a lot of TV.
My resume isn't very impressive, I guess. I've never had a full-time job before, and most companies are looking for someone with at least a year of experience. Well, guess what, assholes, I read Beowulf AND the Canterbury Tales in OLD ENGLISH which is basically GIBBERISH so I think I can handle your oh-so-intricate filing system.
The Man in Front of the CurtainBy STEVE MARTIN
This letter comes a little late.
I remember seeing the tape of my first appearance on your show, on a home recording, a reel-to-reel Sony prototype video recorder, probably around 1972. What my friends and I ended up watching was not me, but you. It's almost impossible to look away from oneself onscreen, but you made it possible, because there were lessons in what you did. You and Jack Benny taught me about generosity toward other comedians, about the appreciation of the plight of the pro, as valuable as any lessons I ever learned.
Your gift - though I'm sure you wouldn't have called it a gift - was, as I see it, a blend of modesty and confidence. You wanted to do the job and do it well. You allowed the spirit of your idols, Stan Laurel and Jonathan Winters among them, to creep into you, and you found a way to twist their inspiration and make it new. In you I saw simplicity, joy, politeness, sympathy. Your death reminds me of the loss of America's innocence, the distance we have come from your sly, boyish leers to our flagrant, overstated embarrassments for parents and children.
If I could wake you up for a minute, I would ask you to tell me how good you thought you were. "Between you and me," I think you would whisper, "I know I was great in a subtle, secret way." I think you would also say: "I enjoyed and understood the delights of split-second timing, of watching a comedian squirm and then rescue himself, of the surprises that arise from the fractional seconds of desperation when the comedian senses that the end of his sentence might fall to silence."
Your Nebraskan pragmatism - and knowledge of the magician's tricks - tilted you toward the sciences, especially astronomy. (Maybe this is why the occultists, future predictors, spoon-benders or mind readers on your show never left without having been challenged.) You knew how to treat everyone, from the pompous actor to the nervous actress, and which to give the appropriate kindness. You enjoyed the unflappable grannies who knitted log-cabin quilts, as well as the Vegas pros who machine-gunned the audience into hysterical fits. You were host to writers, children, intellectuals and nitwits and served them all well, and served the audience by your curiosity and tolerance. You gave each guest the benefit of the doubt, and in this way you exemplified an American ideal: you're nuts but you're welcome here.
We loved watching baby tigers paw you and koalas relieve themselves on you and seeing you in your swami hat or Tarzan loincloth, and we loved hearing Ed's ripostes and watching you glare at him as though you were going to fire him, but we knew you weren't.
We, the millions whom you affected, will weep inside when we see the reruns, the clips of you walking out from behind the curtain, the moment in the monologue when a joke bombed; we'll recall your deep appreciation of both genuine and struggling talent.
Because you retreated into retirement so completely, let me thank you, in death, for the things I couldn't quite say to you in life. Thank you for the opportunity you gave me and others, and thank you - despite divisive wars and undulating political strife - for the one hour a night across 30 years of American life when we were entertained purely, delightfully and wisely.
Monday, January 24, 2005
I would just like to point out that I was weird and awkward and random and a big liar LONG before Natalie Portman made it cool.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
I have a problem. I can't get my hair to look the same two days in a row. If I really like the way my hair looks one day, I'll try to copy it again the next day but it NEVER works. I get out the shower only to realize I've forgotten to condition my hair or, while still in the shower, I accidentally shampoo my hair twice because I forgot if I did it already. Once I actually CONDITIONED my hair with face wash, because the bottles looked the same. I didn't notice until the face wash was already rubbed in.
And then when I'm drying my hair, I can't seem to figure out the mechanics of working a brush and my blow dryer at the same time. Most of the time, I just turn my head upside down to dry my hair because that means I don't have to worry about the brush until AFTER my hair is dry.
Seriously, pass me the razor.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
I also had a pile of clean laundry that was just hanging out on the bookcase so I put that away. When I went to hang some things in the closet, I noticed that some sort of bomb had gone off inside. There were shoes everywhere, clothes hanging halfway off of hangers, an old desklamp, and a bottle of vodka tucked away in a bookbag. No, I am not a closet alcoholic (haha), I had just forgotten to fully unpack from a couple of weeks ago when I went to the Sex and the City Marathon party.
Sometimes I just cannot concentrate unless I stop what I'm doing IMMEDIATELY and clean my room. This wouldn't be a problem if I wasn't so messy the rest of the time. It's not that I'm a total slob. It's not like I leave half-eaten sandwiches or piles of dirty tissues all over the floor. It's just that sometimes my ADD outweighs my OCD. I start putting away laundry and then notice a couple overdue library books which makes me think that I'd better sign online and renew them and then when I'm online I figure I might as well check my e-mail, so I leave the library books on the floor next to my desk, check my e-mail, update my blog, and completely forget about the laundry until a week later when I'm again sitting at my computer and my OCD takes over and I JUST HAVE TO CLEAN.
So you see, it all comes full circle and everything eventually gets done, but in the most half-assed, incoherent way possible.
* "aesthetically pleasing" JUST MIGHT BE my favorite phrase in the English language
This is my friend Nancy. I debated on whether or not to use real names, but then I thought no one (except people I know) will know if I'm using real names or not. It's like magic. Or something.
Anyway. This fabulous picture of Nancy (or is it Lucy? Anne? Shaniqua?) was taken one special Sunday night at the bar. Yes, I said Sunday. For some reason, our friends at McMurray's opened the bar for our sorority one Sunday night for an impromptu pizza party. This turned into a "give everyone free drinks and get out the karaoke machine" party. I do believe at some point that night, Nancy was doing somersaults and broke her sandal.
I met Nancy freshman year when we both rushed the same sorority, but I didn't really get to know her until the next year. I have a lot of fun memories with Nancy, but here are some of my favorites.
On her 21st birthday, she bought one of those tiny cakes from Kroger or something. The only reason she bought it was because she wanted to dunk her face in it. I have the before, during, and after pictures of that event somewhere, but I couldn't find them. To clean off her face, she used the hosebrush thingie in the sorority house kitchen. I should point out that she was sober for this one.
One night after a party, we went back to the sorority house to make some food. This was before we lived there. All of the ramen was gone from the cabinet, but we knew they kept more locked in the snack closet and the only other ramen on campus that we knew of was aaaaaall the way down the street in my dorm room. So we did the only logical thing, and that was to vault Nancy through the open space above the snack closet door. Once she was inside, she unlocked the door and we helped ourselves to a couple packets of salty, noodley goodness. Somehow, The People In Charge found out what we'd done and they nailed a board over the open space. If they wouldn't have locked away the food that WE PAID FOR we wouldn't have had to resort to acrobatics so really it's their own fault.
Once Nancy went out for dinner and drinks with some other students and their Education professor. She met us later after she'd had many Red Bull and Vodkas (blech) and ended up running to the bar.
When we went to Charleston for Fall Break junior year, Nancy and I wrote a big "69" in the sand because we are JUST THAT MATURE. Then we got mad because some kids from the Christian group in the condo next to us erased it.
That summer some of us went to visit a friend in West Virginia. One night, this friend's brother got out a beer bong and Nancy insisted she'd never seen one before. She kept calling it a Contraption, so that year for her birthday we made one for her. We decorated it and everything and wrote "Contraption" down the tube.
There are MANY more, but that's the stuff that could probably get us in trouble. It's probably best not to publish some things we did on the internet(s).
Love you, Nancy! If that IS your real name.
Friday, January 21, 2005
And, yes, I know it's Ohio and it ALWAYS snows and the weather is usually some form of shitty but that doesn't mean I have to like it and it CERTAINLY doesn't mean I can't complain about it.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
When I chose it, I didn't really think it'd be too big of a project. The scarf is supposed to end up being 62 inches long. That's not bad, right? I didn't think so and then I thought about that length in terms of feet instead of inches and realized that I'm making a scarf that will be as long as I am tall. Whoa.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
I'll be sure to let you all know the results, as long as I'm not blind or hunched over the toilet.
I'm not really sure why I'm posting this. I think mainly so I don't forget about this project five minutes from now which, let's face it, is pretty likely.
In other news, I've also started knitting. I figure if I'm going to be sitting around for hours on end, all unemployed and boring, I might as well have something to show for it.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Someone DID find my blog by searching for "built a fort out of blankets," and to that person I say, WELCOME fellow fort-builder. If you're looking for stories or something, you're kind of out of luck, because I think there's only one. If you're looking for instructions, well, I don't know if I should give them to you because building a fort out of blankets requires imagination and ingenuity as well as, you know, blankets and possibly closepins.
My sister and I always built them in our basement. We'd drag every toy chest and chair we could find into one room and steal blankets from all over the house. The closepins were so the blankets would stay in place because how much does it suck to build a fort and have it fall on your head? So frustrating.
The thing is, usually after we'd built the fort, we'd play in it for like five minutes, get bored, and tear it down. Why are so many childhood activities so pointless and yet so fun?
Monday, January 17, 2005
Last night I dreamed that I checked my blog and each post had like 100 comments! Which, as you all know, is EVERY blogger's dream or maybe not and I'm just a huge nerd but I think we all know that by now. Anyway, so I go to check the comments and they're all things like "your blog has been really lame lately," and "your recent posts suck," and "I hate you and everything you stand for," and then I cried BECAUSE THAT IS MEAN Dream!readers, why would you say that?!
I think I woke up after that, all WTF, why am I dreaming about MY BLOG, I need a life. When I went back to sleep, I had another dream, but this time I was going to A PARTY and not a cyberParty a REAL party. I could tell it was a dream, though, because Leonardo DiCaprio and Joaquin Phoenix (I know, what?) were there and these girls I went to school with were charging everyone 20 bucks to get in even though Leo and Joaquin were WITH ME so really I should have been the one charging the plebes to see the pretty, famous people. And then I arm-wrestled Leo, but I woke up before anyone won. Sorry. Maybe tonight.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
So, yes, the concert was at A CHURCH in Fairborn. Of the five of us that went, only one of us is a regular churchgoer. The last time I was at church was Christmas Eve, and then I hadn't been since the LAST Christmas Eve. And seeing as how I read in the paper today that the Lutheran church is going to continue its stance of not making a stand, I probably won't be going back to Sunday worship for a while.
Anyway. When I told my mom where I was going, she kind of laughed like she thought I was kidding. Then she gave me a pointed look and made the lock-the-lips-throw-away-the-key gesture, because I have a history of behaving inappropriately at church. It's not my fault! It's just that church is so serious and I'm not a very serious person. And all of my inappropriate thoughts seem to come to mind during the quietest moments, meaning I have to work extra hard NOT to start giggling because there are no sounds to drown me out.
Luckily, the band had drums, a keyboard, TWO singers, and multiple guitars, so none of us had to be quiet. In fact, we were encouraged to sing along and do hand motions to some of the songs, and my inner cynic died a little inside because I DID THEM so the people in the band would feel good and because I love my friends SO MUCH that I will willingly embarrass myself in public by (dear God, no) actually acting happy and excited about something.
The only time I had to quell my hysterics was during one of the (many) prayers that started with "Dear Jesus," because it reminded me of this one time Lampl and I were walking to McMurray's. She was 21 but I still had a couple of weeks to go, so on the way to the bar we kept repeating variations of, "Dear Jesus, please let me/Jennie get a wristband at the bar" because a wristband at McMurray's meant you were 21, even if you were a FETUS. Surprisingly, God did not strike us down WHERE WE STOOD and I did, in fact, get a wristband at the bar. Go figure.
OK, I did accidentally curse ONE TIME when we were in the sanctuary, but I only said hell and the preacher says hell in there ALL THE TIME so I don't think I did anything THAT horrible. It's not like I said shit or damn, even though I probably thought those words at least once. But probably way more than that.
All joking aside, I really did have a good time. Amanda's band was REALLY good, especially considering she basically just started playing the bass and she said their drummer just learned the drums a few months ago. Plus, it was really good to see Amanda, since she's been traveling all over the country and LIVING IN A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER since May.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Mom: I don't think so.
Me: Oh, ok.
(ten seconds later)
Mom: Is Mindy up yet?
Me: I don't know, I just asked YOU that.
Mom: Where'd you go?
Mom: Oooh, what'd you buy?
Me: Garden State.
Mom: Oh, that's nice.
(five minutes later)
Mom: What did you get at Target?
Me: You don't listen to me, do you?
I didn't, though, and I'd like to think that it wasn't JUST because there were a lot of people around and it wasn't dark.
Friday, January 14, 2005
meet S and N for dinner √
curse at the assholes who can't drive √
rent movies √
change into pajamas √
take off bra √
I only have one more thing to do, and that is to curl up with a blanket, some cough drops, and Napoleon Dynamite.
I am AWESOME.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Seriously. Tears, streaming down my face.
In a good way.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Most of the time I have absolutely no idea what's going on. Which I'm OK with because I'm watching TV, not taking the SAT. Tonight's episode of Lost was awesome until the part about Boone hallucinating everything. I was so freaking happy that Shannon had gotten eaten. Well, maybe happy is the wrong word. But I WAS disappointed to see her walking around, all alive and bitchy, again. There is something way freaking and Flowers in the Attic about Boone and Shannon. Also, I think sometimes that there are way too many characters on that show. Sometimes I forget about them. Tonight when The Hobbit finally appeared, I was like, "Oh yeah, he's still there, even though he kind of almost died." Maybe they could make the show two hours longer. I can't really think of any character I'd want to get rid of, other than Shannon. But I think what they're doing with Shannon and Sayid could be interesting. So I guess she can stay. For at least another week, until she's eaten again in someone's hallucination.
Also, I have no idea what the hell is going on on that island. My aunt posed the theory that they all really died in the plane crash, and they're all in some kind of purgatory type hell. I don't really know how purgatory works, because I'm Lutheran and we don't have to go to purgatory (haha! In your face, Catholics! Sorry. Just kidding. Got a little excited, there.), but the theory made sense to me. If she turns out to be right, I am going to be super impressed because I've pretty much given up on trying to make sense of anything. All I know is Locke is kind of creepy, Boone is more than kind of hot, and Jack is WAY more than kind of a douchebag.
I never know what's going on with Alias, either. I stopped paying much attention to the storylines last season, because it's too much trouble trying to figure out why they're trying to steal whatever stupid ass Rambaldi artifact they're trying to steal and what they're going to do once they get it. Mostly, I just sit there with my mouth hanging open and watch the pretty flashing lights. Occasionally, I'll laugh when Marshall appears or "ooh" and "ahh" when Sydney kicks some serious ass or Vaughn is onscreen.
Still, even when Lost or Alias kind of blow, they're still better than most of the crap on TV, a lot of which has overstayed its welcome.
ER, 7th Heaven, I'm looking in your direction.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Ok, for the most part, it's been snowing/raining here in Ohio since the week before Christmas. The sun was kind of out on Sunday (how fitting) but other than that, we have not seen the sun IN WEEKS. It's also 40 degrees right now, which is relatively warm for January.
I just looked in the paper to see if maybe JUST MAYBE the sun would be gracing us with its presence any time soon. For Wednesday, there's a little picture of the sun peeking out from behind a cloud, so I'm taking that to mean that the sun is going to be shy tomorrow. Maybe it gained some holiday weight. BUT. It's supposed to be 64 degrees tomorrow. 64 DEGREES. IN OHIO. IN JANUARY.
Here's what's fucked up. Thursday's forecast is for a high of 60 and a low of 13, with possible rain OR SNOW showers. WTF?! How can it be 60 degrees and snow ON THE SAME DAY? Are we living in a Dr. Seuss book?
Then, on Friday and Saturday, it's supposed to be under 15 degrees and "frigid." Awesome.
Who needs to take vacations when you live in Ohio? If you wait long enough, the weather you want will eventually come around. I hope you only want to enjoy it for about 10 minutes.
Monday, January 10, 2005
I'm looking at the picture right now. It's hardly pornography. It's just naked people, and not even attractive naked people at that. I think it's hilarious that this book is being banned for something so stupid and I CAN'T WAIT to watch The Daily Show tonight to see if they say something about it.
For a little over two GLORIOUS years, I worked at a public library. I'm willing to bet that America has graced its shelves. I have to wonder if these Mississippi libraries carry some of the books that my library did when I worked there. Two in particular leap to mind, and both of these books were shelved in the juvenile section.
The first was called It's Perfectly Normal. It dealt with sex, puberty, and sexual health in a VERY frank manner, basically telling kids exactly what to expect. If I remember correctly, and I think I do because it's hard to forget, there's a page with a bunch of cartoon drawings of naked people in ALL shapes and sizes.
The second book was Mommy Laid an Egg, my favorite for the title alone. Again, it dealt with sex and explained it to children without too much or too little information. The thing I remember best about it was the page of the mommy and daddy in their "special embrace" on top of a skateboard, holding balloons, and wearing party hats. The best part was that it was drawn like a little kid would draw it, with crayons and everything. HILARIOUS.
If these Mississippi libraries won't even carry America, I really doubt that they carry either It's Perfectly Normal or Mommy Laid an Egg. Maybe they're afraid of a run-in with the Mystery Pooper.
Let me explain. Before I worked for the Dayton Metro Library system, one of the branches had a bit of a problem. Someone would come into this branch, take a book from the shelf that he thought was immoral or inappropriate, poop in it, and put it back on the shelf. I think they eventually caught the guy, I guess by putting cameras in the bathroom or, I don't know, collecting stool samples from all of their patrons, but not before he ruined quite a few books.
This story eventually made it onto The Daily Show, back when Craig Kilborne hosted it. You know, back before the show was AWESOME.
So maybe, just maybe, the Mystery Pooper will be back. He'll shit all over some library's copy of America and the poo cycle will be complete.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Friday, January 07, 2005
Thursday, January 06, 2005
I have problems. I know this.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
So. Here goes.
- Write for AT LEAST one hour every day, and blogging doesn't count.
- Exercise in some way every day, even if it's not for very long and it's done while watching reruns of Friends.
- Watch less TV. For instance, do not sit in front of TV, channel surf, and then settle for watching Blind Date because nothing else is on. Turn the TV off and then open a book, or go work on numbers 1 and 2 (heh, that sounds bad).
- Get dressed immediately after showering (and, of course, drying off) instead of sitting around in various stages of undress checking e-mail or writing in blog. This starts tomorrow, obviously, as I am currently writing this in my bathrobe.
- Job search for at least one hour a day OR send out two resumes a day.
- Take fewer pictures of the dog with digital camera.
- Stop drinking so many caffeinated beverages. Just because I have a Starbucks gift card DOES NOT mean I have to consume as many caramel macchiatos as I can within 24 hours.
- Be nicer to my sister, unless she throws water on me again.
- Feed fish every day. And also change his water more than once every two months.
- Drink more water.
- Go to bed and get up earlier so I don't go into shock once I finally get a job.
- To go along with number 11, stop staying up late trying to finish the last 100 pages of a book. When the chapter ends, put the book down and go to sleep because staying up until 4 AM because "the book was just TOO GOOD TO PUT DOWN" is probably not an acceptable excuse for missing work.
- Travel to a state I've never been to before. It's probably easier to list the states I HAVE been to, so any states other than the following will count: California, Texas, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio (obviously), Kentucky, Tennessee, Michigan, West Virginia, Regular Virginia, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. Any other state is up for grabs, so if you live in one of the states NOT on that list, all I can say is WATCH OUT.
- Don't be as superstitious. That one's stupid, but I just didn't want to end on number 13.
(address and phone number omitted for obvious reasons)
Objective: To find a job. Any job. As long as it doesn't involve flipping burgers or scrubbing toilets and is not (very) illegal.
Education: I can spell antidisestablishmentarianism AND I know what it means.
Languages: Four years of Spanish, but please don't ask me to speak or translate it.
Work Experience: Enough to know most people are douchebags.
Activities: Watching TV, posting stupid things to my blog, watching more TV.
References: I've never killed anyone (that I know of), I don't black out from drinking (anymore*), and I don't plan on needing maternity leave (barring the return of blackouts from drinking**)
*just kidding, Mom and Dad
**again, Mom and Dad, kidding
Dog gets a drink of water.
Mom: Yeah, I know, Mom's a freak.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
On a sidenote, I just totally blanked on how to spell the word "restaurant." I don't know what that means, but it can't be good.
I don't really know what else to say about it that others haven't already said better than I ever could, so I'll just be sending all my good thoughts to the people in that area.
Monday, January 03, 2005
This was my first time in Chicago and I drove the whole way there. Luckily, I had someone else navigating because I need someone to tell me precise directions when I'm driving a route I've never driven before. I mean, I need them to tell me things like, "you should probably get into the right lane and you should probably get over right now because DEAR GOD YOU'RE ABOUT TO MISS THE EXIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING ARE YOU EVEN LOOKING AT THE ROAD YOU BIG, BIG, DIRECTIONALLY RETARDED MORON!"
So. I didn't miss any exits, thank you very much, and we were never in any way lost, except for when we thought we were already on 94, but it turned out we were still on 90. It didn't even matter because we ended up on 94 before we even realized we were almost lost.
ANYWAY. We got to Chicago and gained an hour, which was awesome. It wasn't so awesome going home, because we lost an hour, but whatever. On Friday, when we all eventually got ready, we went to Navy Pier (see pictures below). I thought it was funny that so many people seemed to be on shore leave or something, but then I realized that they'd all just bought their Navy hats while they were there because little kids are probably not allowed to join the Navy and I can't believe I just admitted that.
After dinner and some sitting around, we made it to the party. We had snacks, made drinks, and played Kings, I Never, and Cranium until we had all had too much alcohol and concentration was no longer possible. That was OK, though, because it was almost 11. And since most of us were from Ohio, we celebrated like it was midnight.
NOT that we completely ignored midnight when it finally rolled by Chicago. We celebrated then, too. And again, for our friends in Mountain Time. And, yes, again for our friends on the West Coast. I mean, we really HAD to celebrate four times, because there were like eight bottles of champagne.
Needless to say, Saturday was spent lying around in our pajamas watching Friends. We did eventually make it to Mary's car so she could give us a tour of Lake Forest, including the street where George Clooney and Brad Pitt filmed a scene of Ocean's Twelve. And don't ask me what scene it was because I haven't seen the movie yet. All I know is it involved some bar and some kind of other shop and Brad Pitt running down the street.
So, that was my New Year's. It might not sound that exciting, but I don't think it's very nice of you to look down on my celebration like that. I mean, what did YOU do that was so exciting? Did you go to a BAR? Ooooh, that's original. I'm so impressed.
Sorry, that was some leftover 2004 hostility. I think it's gone now.