I'm Leaving (left and came back) on a Jet Plane

But I came back in a car.

Not one, but two whole weekends ago I went to Chicago for the weekend. And of course it was so cold I could die. Most of the trip was non eventful, hung out with friends, did some shopping, ate food. You know-the usual.

But the highlight of the trip was A)Getting the hell out of Detroit. I loved every second being in a place easily described as "NOT HERE".
And B)I saw Twilight. For free (thank you lara's roommate, jeanette). AND IT WAS HILARIOUS. However, I must admit something. I think if I saw it under different circumstances...nah. Nevermind. I thought I could say I would like it otherwise, but it's just not true. Well, when I say "like" I mean get all like, invested and whatever in the characters. It wasn't the worst movie but the moments I laughed at I most certainly was not supposed to. But I will say this-main vampire boy who is all "I AM INTENSE, SPARKLY, PALE AND HARDCORE" is vaguely attractive. And tall.

I like tall.

The dad in the movie is a lot like mine. Drinking a beer and cleaning his shotgun when said boy shows up to take out his daughter.

CHARLIE (dad): YOU WANNA HELP ME CLEAN MY SHOTGUN?
EDWARD (vampire boy): NO, I'M OKAY, THANKS.

So there's that. Also, please read the whole parody where I laughed till I cried here.
It's worth every moment.

And with that, I think I'm done. For now. Merry early Christmas?

Observational Humor

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.

Moving on.

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.