I stubbed my toe on the corner of the desk in here and that felt awesome. Also, I'm watching Transformers and Shia LaBeouf said it. So it was like a freaky coincidence of the cosmic variety.
I've been saying "Oh Good Grief" a lot. It's like Charlie Brown with an attitude.
I also learned that apparently it really IS that insane that I'm taking 3 languages at once. Like, totally nutso insane. So there's that.
I have to call Ireland tomorrow
EDIT-Apparently it isn't clear exactly what Shia LaBeouf said. He falls off his bike in Transformers, right? In front of the hot chick? And she's all "That was...awesome (NOT)" and he's all "Yeah...it FELT awesome...g2g hot girl, Satan's Camero is stalking me". ---I may or may not have paraphrased this scene.
Inspired by my DVD-marathons with my new roommate...this is the story of me and Alexa:
So no one told you life was going to be this way Your job's a joke, you're broke, you're love life's DOA It's like you're always stuck in second gear Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year
But I'll be there for you when the rain starts to pour I'll be there for you like I've been there before I'll be there for you, 'cause you're there for me too
I overheard in some commercial that the other person they were speaking to would be great at a column of "observational humor". Now, let us all ponder what that really means. I feel like one can be humourous, and one can be observational. And on the rare occasion that the two shall meet, you get a David Sedaris or a Jean Shephard. Otherwise, I can't help but think that it's an odd statement. Not that there isn't a form of potential "observational humor" to be had. I just think it's a strange way to categorize it.
I am now enrolled in ballroom dancing lessons. And it is awesome.
I stayed for 4 hours, the entire class period in my Russian class yesterday. I also sit next to a dedicated nail picker. *pick pick pick pick* It's like a louder second hand on a clock that irritates me more than clocks do. I actually like things that tick. And I mean that in a totally non-creepy bomber way.
To end this lovely entry, I have some cut/scratch thing on my right pointer finger and it hurts when I stretch to type things, like the letter "y" or "I" (only sometimes). Which means I'm done.
Tonight I went to an open house thing at the local Arthur Murray. I learned to dance. It is way too much fun and I plan on learning more. From some cute boys.
A few thoughts I promise to elaborate on- --Having your brakes fail suck --I am tired of cool, indie, hipster flicks with underground, scene soundtracks and "witty" dialogue --I love Tim Gunn and hate Kenley
That's about it for now. I have a lesson at Arthur Murray this Wednesday which will be awesome because I will learn to dance.
Thou shalt not steal if there is direct victim. Thou shalt not worship pop idols or follow lost prophets. Thou shalt not take the names of Johnny Cash, Joe Strummer, Johnny Hartman, Desmond Decker, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, or Syd Barret in vain. Thou shalt not think that any male over the age of 30 that plays with a child that is not their own is a pedophile...some people are just nice. Thou shalt not read NME. Thall shalt not stop liking a band just because they’ve become popular. Thou shalt not question Stephen Fry. Thou shalt not judge a book by its cover. Thou shalt not judge Lethal Weapon by Danny Glover. Thall shalt not buy Coca-Cola products. Thou shalt not buy Nestle products. Thou shalt not go into the woods with your boyfriend’s best friend, take drugs, and cheat on him. Thou shalt not fall in love so easily. Thou shalt not use poetry, art, or music to get into girls’ pants. Use it to get into their heads. Thou shalt not watch Hollyokes. Thou shalt not attend an open mic and leave before it’s done just because you’ve finished your shitty little poem or song, you self-righteous prick. Thou shalt not return to the same club or bar week in, week out just ’cause you once saw a girl there that you fancied but you’re never gonna fucking talk to.
Thou shalt not put musicians and recording artists on ridiculous pedestals no matter how great they are or were. The Beatles - Were just a band. Led Zepplin - Just a band. The Beach Boys - Just a band. The Sex Pistols - Just a band. The Clash - Just a band. Crass - Just a band. Minor Threat - Just a band. The Cure - Just a band. The Smiths - Just a band. Nirvana - Just a band. The Pixies - Just a band. Oasis - Just a band. Radiohead - Just a band. Bloc Party - Just a band. The Arctic Monkeys - Just a band. The next big thing - Just a band.
Thou shalt give equal worth to tragedies that occur in non-English speaking countries as to those that occur in English speaking countries. Thou shalt remember that guns, bitches, and bling were never part of the four elements and never will be. Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music. Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music. Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music. Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music. Thou shalt not pimp my ride. Thou shalt not scream if you wanna go faster. Thou shalt not move to the sound of the wickedness. Thou shalt not make some noise for Detroit. When I say "Hey" thou shalt not say "Ho." When I say "Hip" thou shalt not say "Hop." When I say, he say, she say, we say, make some noise - kill me. Thou shalt not quote me happy. Thou shalt not shake it like a polaroid picture. Thou shalt not wish you girlfriend was a freak like me. Thou shalt spell the word "Pheonix" P-H-E-O-N-I-X not P-H-O-E-N-I-X, regardless of what the Oxford English Dictionary tells you. Thou shalt not express your shock at the fact that Sharon got off with Bradley at the club last night by saying "Is it." Thou shalt think for yourselves.
Today I did a photoshoot for Whitehorse (now Wildfox). Ever see the movie Dazed and Confused? Doesn't matter. We reenacted the hazing scene for our shoot. The main models were fabulously 70's, and four of us were their "freshmen" to harass...with ketchup, mustard, and flour.
Don't let that photo fool you. We were serious business.
We then moved into a car wash...and gathered an audience as we got wet and soapy. Mr. Creepo Spectator ever brought out his camera phone to take a picture.
At the end of the adventure, I walked away with three shirts (including one that got mustardy), with 3 more on order from their new collection.