I thought work would blow tonight, but it didn't, mainly because Jen was there and the damaged snacks just FLOWED in. Now I have a bellyache, thanks to a liter of seltz, gummi raspberries, Kids, sour jelly beans, chocolate graham chracker pretzels and pistacios, in addition to the nutritous vending machine dinner of bacon cheddar potato skin chips and Kit Kat bar. Sickening. I should really work on thinking ahead.
Shh, don't tell anyone, because there are no little secrets, but Match Point comes out in Boston on Friday, peeyourpantswithexcitement. (1:00, 4:00, 7:00, and 10:00 at AMC Fenway, student discount $7.50 WHAT?) My favorite thing about the locale of my apartment is probably its proximity to AMC Fenway, in the Select City of Boston. Bliss.
I'm thinking of capping off the night with Cinderella Man. Going to bed depressed plus the unruly combination of crappy food I have consumed this evening should make for some really bitchin' dreams that I may or may not remember, like last night, where I was on Lost, hanging out with Boone. Oh, Boone. What a strange name. Written out it looks like it should either rhyme with "no one" or be pronounced Boonie or be a typo for Bone.
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