I didn't know!

So apparently Linens N Things is like riding a really hellish, exhausting bike. I did about three katrillion returns, met a man named Cletus, and sold forty spatulas to a woman who WAS Madame Medusa from The Rescuers, complete with malfunctioning false eyelashes. It's fine though because LNT did not schedule me for New Year's eve, bless them.

The Family Stone is not as good the second time around. King Kong is, though. I probably should have paced myself better with these December movies, that way I wouldn't be so compelled to see them multiple times.

To quote Billy Mac, Christmas is all around me. Or at least it was. I love it love it love it. Every second of it. I was very very lucky and came into posession of Final Cut Pro, which happens to weigh about fifty pounds, go figure. I haven't actually opened it yet, but I'm guessing the weight comes from the instruction manual. Lordy. One day soon I will become pro.

I need to start applying for sick internships so that I can go to Los Angeles and begin my new chosen career, which is a creative director/writer/producer/editor/ continuity director/coffee maker for a televison show as bitchin as LOST.

Could happen.

Tomorrow I must watch Daisy Do America and play in Boston.

Crickets.

Nothing says Christmas like a visiting foot long iguana/alligator named Dolores and her box full of "food" aka live, chirping crickets.

Who names an iguana Dolores? Who domesticates iguanas?

Repulsive. I guess it could be worse. Adrienne could have volunteered to babysit the HISSING COCKROACHES over break. Um. What the hell?

DOESN'T ANYONE JUST HAVE GUNIEA PIGS ANYMORE?

ARE YOU READY TO BURN?

Christmas Break is weird because everyone reconvenes and for three weeks or so, it's like none of us ever left. The only difference is that barely anyone can drive anywhere anymore, due to removal of insurance or brothers who hog the car to go to high school. So we're all home, just sometimes stranded, which makes us resourceful. Like pioneers in covered wagons.

One thing we have that pioneers did not is Mari and her fat burning regime, Windsor Pilates. Or Roll on America (.99 Wednesdays, ya heard?). Or ghastly season finales of Nip/Tuck.

Oh yeah, just as a little heads up...New Years/Yankee Swap '05 shall be mint, fresh, boss AND bitchin'. What's that sound? Oh, I do believe it's Celine Dion's mystical voice beckoning, even begging to play a role in Swap again. Okay, Celine. Okay.

Perhaps I shouldn't get ahead of myself. 

Christmas is magnifique.

"I just saw both of your lives flash before my eyes." - Eleanor

Today's Metro could not say enough about King Kong, and even went so far as to call it...

..."The next Titanic"?!

Woah, woah woah. Hello, hefty claim.

But I thought about it, and I suppose it's entirely possible, based on visual effects being ahead of their time...and length, of course. And I think I spotted a breathtaking sunset in the trailer.

My list for vacation is longer than my list of things to do BEFORE vacation, although my before vacation list is slightly less entertaining.

But nothing is as entertaining as harassing a Factory full of restaurant patrons with stories about the President of BU's arm stub with fingers at the end, followed by the really unsubtle flirtations of two 30+ out of towners, who, two feet away from the entrance of the Westin were smooth enough to open with "Do you girls know where the Westin is" and proceed to ask us if we wanted to come in for "martinis", followed by a ride home serenaded by Bob Carlisle and his damn Christmas Shoes, followed by Secret Santa Christmas Riverway style...we almost kept it a secret.

Tonight is the first night of the Pinocchio Study, Natalie's and my research project to learn once and for all if our noses actually DO grow at night, or if they just APPEAR to be larger in the morning. Nobody has EVER done this before, and if there is a change, we're calling MIT. 

I bet the martini guys would be shocked if they ever found out. 

I'm really glad I saved up all my excused absences for the end of the semester.

"All I want for Christmas is you"...oh yeah, and a draft snake to press up against the freaking window so that the 14 degree winds will stop wafting over my sleeping body and I can go back to sleeping sans pantalones. Or at least sans 16 layers of clothing.

Liz and I took a shot of TheraFlu, which was an instant, if nauseating pick me up. She feels good enough to run a marathon. I, however, have never known such health.

Ah well, I really really love it.

Silly girl child.

Once upon a time there was a sketchy girl who was very foolish and could barely speak, never mind actually make conversation, despite the fact that in general, she was known to have and be lots of fun, if not completely retarded. She also liked to procrastinate a whole lot, and did things like write words that don't matter. Sometimes she wondered if real life would ever be as fantastic or as horrifying as the life that played out in her head, somewhere behind her eyes, and if so, when that business would start. She wondered if maybe she was the last person her age to not know how to speak, even though she had been telling stories to anyone who would listen since before she could walk. She figured it was okay though, because for a girl with no social skills, she had some pretty fun friends and liked movies a lot and enjoyed cities and wanted to be famous and sometimes pretended her life wasn't really hers, but just some movie that didn't necessarily progress the way she wanted it to, no matter how many times she wrote the script, and what the heck more could she possibly do without speaking about this girl who knew a lot about what she wanted but you would never know unless you understood what a ridiculous smile means or if you could maybe read minds or be a really really good guesser. 

Eight pages. There is never a need for research papers in the real world/Hollywood.

World's Ugliest Dog Croaks.

http://aolsvc.news.aol.com/news/article.adp?id=20051122121809990005&ncid=NWS00010000000001

He looks like Voldemort. Damn. 

I think my favorite part of living on the RIVERway is knowing how appropriately named my street is, for when it rains there are veritable RAPIDS, complete with current, that collect right in the crosswalk. I'm talking biblical, at least six inches deep. And the water is opaque, too, so God only knows what lies at the bottom

I can't wait to trudge through it on my way to class tonight. But it'll really be okay, because after class it's the T, and after the T it's the commuter rail, which will spit me out in LeomVegas, where it's Thanksgiving.

But before Thanksgiving I think RENT, my amigos, is due.

And Natale to boot. It's been awhile.

Steady like a train.

This afternoon at 3:45 it was so dark and I had lost track of time so much so that I convinced myself it was time for dinner.

Unfortunately it is not. Not technically, at least. It's the perfect time for tomato soup and Saltines, which, while not constituting as a complete meal, are definitely delicous any time of the day.

I finally got to see Walk the Line last night, but only barely because supposedly when I went to buy tickets at 5 for a 7:40 show I got the last six. I think the cute AMC boy that I've seen like 12 times this year says that to everyone though, just to make them feel good about themselves and their choices. Whatever, it worked on me.

Knowing virtually nothing about Johnny Cash or June Carter, I thought the movie to be extremely good, despite the fact that it ended in a freeze frame. Freeze frames are probably the cheapest way to end a movie, especially a biopic that lasted almost three hours. Fade to black, for Lord's sake. Unless you're an epsiode of The Babysitter's Club, then, by all means, freeze away. It works.

To the soup!