"I miss bumpin' Jeezy wit you in my whip."

I love Bedtime Magic and getting sexed up via the radio by David Allen Boucher. 

It's just weird to me that David Allen Boucher is a faceless radio personality who says things like "Where is your heart tonight? I know where it is...it's here...on Magic...106.7." Really David? GRANT MY THREE IN A ROW REQUEST, DAMMIT.

Cover for me RIIIIICK.

Here's to procrastination and casually watching Schindler's List while I clean. Do I have a problem?

Today is Sunday, and I have every intention to rot in a sweatsuit and my glasses all day, because to be frank, today would be a total waste of eyeliner and contact lenses.

Last night 2/3 of the roomies an I went to Beacon Hill/Loews to see a movie and ultimately come as close as we've ever come to mace-ing a sexual predator. Good times.

Today I have to finally finish re-living Camping 2005 and get this script done, read a couple chapters, learn a monologue for this damn Theater Appreciation class that's turning out to be more trouble than it's worth, find time for the Season 10 Friends Marathon and sift through my movies to find MONTAGES. 

That last one will kill me, mainly because I love montages and have so far spent the better part of my day watching them, which is technically an assignment, but also technically the LEAST important of all my assignments. 

Tonight is Grey's and Pretend Like It's The Weekend Banana-Chocolate Chip Pancakes for Dinner Night.

Sad as it will be to have to work somewhere all the livelong summer, it will be nice to have the option of coming into the city with some of my bitches and PIZ-ARTY-ING.

Buleria, buleria!

Three days ago there was a spidah on my wall right near my bed. Liz killed it and proceeded to shove the smooshed spider Kleenex in my face as proof and to get a rise out of me.

I'll say it. I'm still a little paranoid about this spider near my sleeping area issue. I'm sure he had friends, friends that are probably pissed that he's dead. It's not even that I'm worried about them getting in my bed, which I am, don't get me wrong, I just can't stop thinking about that statistic where you eat like seven spiders a year in your sleep or something. Now that is upsetting. 

I've seen some bitchin trailers lately, all for summer movies, all apparantly kickass. I think making movie trailers is my true calling. I'm going to look into that. Also, can I just say how uplifting it is that Snakes on a Plane got made? I feel much better about my chosen career path knowing that someone can make a living off of a movie that abysmal. 

I'm exhausted. Here's hoping I don't eat any spiders tonight.

Death, you are my bitch lover.

I just really love Wednesdays in general, but today was extra super special because it was a Wednesday with no class.

So I figured I'd just catch up on some work, which obviously did not happen.

Instead, Liz, Natalie and I carjacked Eleanor's car and ventured off to Quincy where we drove in circles for two hours trying to find Wal*Mart, ate in at a classy McDonald's, found Wal*Mart at last, purchased coloring books and fabric-necessities for the fashion major, and drove home in 1/3 of the amount of time it took to get there. 

Liz turned Lisa Frank kittens into Painful Realities, and obviously instead of doing what must be done, I have spent the evening coloring Precious Moments pictures with not-so-subtle Christian undertones. I think I will be sending some of them out as gifts to my family and friends. Autographed and dated, obvi.

I'll believe in you all my life.

This break went by hecka fast, and now I'm getting a little scared about the massive amounts of work I have to do in the extreme few remaining days I have left of school. But it was nearly 70 degrees today which made me want Cherry Hill and Nantucket and Summer Adventures but not Linens N Things so much, even though I guess I get good material from working there. And good material is important.

If watching E.T. doesn't make you want to strap on a headset and park yourself behind a camera, than for Pete's sake I don't know what does. I really don't know why I am not a film major.

It's hard out here for a pimp.

Martin Scorsese- 0
3-6 Mafia- 1

This was definitely one of my favorite Oscar Nights. And I love Oscar Nights. Especially when they feature a gazillion beautiful MONTAGES.

George Clooney's proud to be out of touch.

I would be, too. I really hope I can be someday, even if the furthest I get is living in some godforsaken studio apartment in LA with my fellow tortured artist/best friend, trying to make a living by documenting real life, even though God knows, real life's getting more like fiction each day.

Ahem.