It's like thunda... THUNDA
Lightnin... LIGHTNIN
The way you love me is frightnen!
Thanks to Gumphood... I know that TODAY is the most depressing day of the year. I read that entry as I was about to leave work on Friday. I left dreading this right here. This very moment. Only half an hour into the never ending vortex 'o boredom.
Thanks for shittin' on my sandwich, Gump.
At least it is somewhat sunny. And the 7 feet of snow on the ground bothers me none.
Yes, this weekend was an exercise in cabin fever. We ventured out for a nice dinner at Cafe Iberico who has, hands down, the best sangria in all of Chicago. As we drove there, the snow started lightly falling, tickling the windshield, really. It was somewhat endearing and romantic. But by the time we were getting ready to leave, we noticed the cute little frosted flakes had given way to fat 'ol palm-sized, angry angry flakes 'o doom. Dio suggested we hightail it back to my crib before the deluge commenced.
Already buzzed off the sangria, I desired more. Dio suggested we head to Jewel and pick up some sangria and fruit. We get to the wine isle and HOT DAMN, a friggin' gi-normous jug of Carlo Rossi, purveyor of discounted spirits, was only a measly eight dollars and twenty-five cents! That's a whole lotta drunk! So I diced up some apples, oranges and lemons and we got that party started. And the party raged on 'til 10. That's when I passed out. Whoopie!
We woke up to a winter wonderland. It was truly glorious to behold. Only left my apartment to get some Chicken Hut. We started back on on the sangria at 2pm. By 3pm, we were playing darts. By 3:30pm, I was dancing around the billards room. By 4pm, I was getting loud. By 5pm, I was not only loud but obnoxious. I managed to drive out all my roommates. But not Dio. He stuck by my side. By 8:30pm, I was passed out. Damn you to hell, Mr. Rossi! Are your spirits so affordable because you supplement the actual alcohol content with Ambien? I swear, if I give birth to a child that won't go to sleep, I am calling on Carlo to babysit.
So, we are up to the morning of January 23rd... a Sunday. I woke up at 3am, ready to rock and roll. Dio told me to shut up and go back to sleep. Woke back up at the ungodly hour of 7:30am and stared at the ceiling for awhile. Saw some pink elephants on parade. Thus began the healthiest day EVER.
Made it over to Mickey D's 2 minutes before 11am, thus procuring a tasty Big Breakfast and other breakfast treats. I love that in my hood, you can pay by debit card in the drive thru. Technology finally working for the working man. Or woman. I was happy as a clam. McDonald's, sunshine and a 11am viewing of Titanic. Of course, I cried. Again. I remember the first time I went to see it. Christmas Day. 1997. I leaned over to my date during the opening credits and whispered "I think I know how this ends." But nothing could have prepared me for the roller coaster of emotions I went through that night. My woolen sweater soaked. My eyes bloodshot. And my lesbian crush on Kate Winslet confirmed.
After I changed my sweatshirt and Visine "got the red out," we watched Boogie Nights. Which I have never seen in it's entirety. Whoah. Marky Mark! If I was Julianne Moore, I would have busted into "It's such a good vibraaaaa-tion-on!" during that first sex scene. I hung on to the very end for a glimpse of the ding-a-ling. And disappointed, I was not.
To continue the healthiest day ever, we got some T-Bell for dinner (thank you Mr. Debit) and continued to sit on the couch. I could HEAR myself getting fatter. Ran the usual gamut of Sunday night viewing. Extreme Home Makeover featuring the least excited family ever, but I cried for the second time that day. Desperate Housewives, so so so scan-da-lous! I wanted to bitch slap Gabrielle for calling John a dumb little toy. It cracks me the hell up he is proposing to this woman, all the while calling her Mrs. Solis. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Kimber-bree is really growing on me. But that creepy/ugly Zach bugs the bejesus out of me. I feel bad for poor, plain jane Julie. If I looked like that and had Teri Hatcher for a mom, I be hella pissed. She drowned in the gene pool. It's like Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley's daughter... now which one would you want to take after?
Sorry for the poor image quality, it is all I could find without looking too hard. She is on the left. Looks exactly like her father. I want to give her a hug.
Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Yes, I said I was going to start working out 4 days a week and eating a lot healthier starting January 3rd. But instead I decided to sit around, eat Taco Bell and practice reading Tarot cards (I am getting quite good). But DAMN IT. Today is the day. I figure all the New Years Eve resolution people will have cleared out a bit by now... so I won't have to wait 45 minutes to get on an elliptical machine. So straight to the gym after work I go. Then more Tarot practice. Some ramen. And Miss Jen Schefft. (sp?) I have quite a fun little night carved out for myself. Ooh! I forgot... I have to also do laundry. Hooray!
In honor of the season finale of The Real World/Road Rules Battle of the Sexes 2, I am going to post these pictures:
These were taken on Beale Street in Memphis 3 years ago. Gander at my tomato redness. Good times! So... Dan and Theo... bring it on home. Eric Nies, you can go choke on your jump rope.