I suppose I might as well just do a boring little log of my day so far, and hope that the magic Pulitzer ink starts flowing on its own.
6:35am Wake up the sound of construction guys sawing two-by-fours right below my bedroom window. Thanks, construction guys. And please, don't stop yelling obscene sex stories to your coworkers. I really wanted to know what happened next.
It was either endure this, or close my window and boil like a lobster in my own sweat.
Great start to the day, nonetheless.
8:15am Head off to take my biochem midterm. Embarrassingly, this required the use of public transportation. I say that it is embarrassing because 96% of the time that I take the train, I either take the one going in the wrong direction and/or get off at the wrong stop. Luckily it was only full of respectable business people who pretended not to be laughing internally at my incompetence.
9:00am Write the midterm. It was aiight.
11:40am Hand in my midterm to the midterm-handler guy, who tries to make some joke that I didn't get and just ended up staring at me awkwardly while I stared at him awkwardly, trying to make sense of said joke. After standing there for about four minutes, I asked him if I could go. He said that I could.
12:15pm Arrive at the mall, because what else is there to do on a Friday after writing a test? Certainly not more studying. Eat a cup of frozen yogurt three times the size of the suggested serving. I gotta celebrate somehow, and I'll be damned if it's by working out or eating a salad or whatever healthy people do. Frozen yogurt's healthy anyway. I think.
12:30pm Go cray at the grocery store because all I had for lunch was that frozen yogurt and it is definitely not filling me up. I may or may not have bought Lunchables. I'm an independent adult who can make her own decisions. That also involves Top Dogs, because my body isn't allowed to eat real food.
GET IN MY DIGESTIVE TRACT, YOU DELICIOUS FAKE HAMBURGERS.
I hate the word "tract." It just sounds so icky. Like tract infection. Bleh. I think I'll start calling it Digestive Avenue. That's much less disturbing.
1:15pm Curse as my grocery bags simultaneously break and stuff goes flying everywhere. I would have brought reusable bags, but I'm a cheap ass and need those plastic bags for garbage bags. Like I'm actually gonna buy garbage bags. Last time I checked, I wasn't Martha Stewart. That'll also be the day that I stop using laundry detergent as face wash. It's all the same shit. Plus, a bottle of Tide lasts forever if you get the 3x concentrated kind.
In retrospect, I realize that plastic bags with gigantic Disney-princess-pasta-can-shaped holes in them are not really that great for future use. But that still doesn't mean I'm going to buy garbage bags.
1:40pm Pass the HMV in the mall, briefly ponder how HMV is still in business, and then remember that THEY HAVE THE GREAT GATSBY SOUNDTRACK IN THERE. Proceed into the store trying not to look too ecstatic, casually pick up the CD, have the sales girl come up to you and ask you if you need any help, watch as she gets just as animated as you once she sees that you're holding the Great Gatsby soundtrack, and have a fifteen-minute long conversation with her about the casting of the movie. Stop talking to her once she tells you that she doesn't really like Leonardo Dicaprio. Buy CD.
(I should probably acknowledge the fact that I'm buying a physical CD, which is just as unusual to me as it likely sounds to you. I believe the last CD I bought was in early 2008, at which time I got an iPod and never looked back. There used to be this notion that if you really valued the artist and their work, you'd buy the physical CD, because it's more substantial and you get the little booklet with pictures and stuff. I know that 70% of the reason I would buy albums was for those little booklets. I exclusively bought Taylor Swift's albums to decipher the little messages she wrote with capital letters in the song lyrics. Obviously it was not because I liked her music. Obviously I couldn't just look up those passive-aggressive messages on the internet.
But now iTunes gives you an online booklet or those weird EP things and whatnot, so it's irrelevant, and there's the whole illegal download thing. I guess having the physical copy means something to me because the movie means something to me, and I feel that it's nicely consistent with the vintage theme.
So there's that, plus I ran out of money on my iTunes account.)
2:00pm Get on the train to go home, and (expectedly) get off at the wrong station. Hop back onto the train before anyone notices.
Lots of people noticed.
2:00pm Arrive at home and freak out in private about aforementioned CD.
IT'S THE MOST GLORIOUS THING I'VE EVER OWNED.
(Besides my signed Miles Teller photograph. But that's a story for another day.)
I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT YOU'RE WEARING WAY TOO MUCH MAKEUP AND IT LOOKS FABULOUS.
Oh hey Leo, didn't see you there. How's it going?
And don't worry, I won't stop liking you because you've "been in too many movies." I bet that sales girl hates Meryl Streep, too. Lunatic.
IT'S ALL SO BEAUTIFUL. Of all of the interpretations of the Doctor T.J. Eckleburg sign, I love this one the most. And the cover art. It's just a grand concept.
Oh, and the music's quite good, too. Complex and beautiful, kind of like the orchestra that is a living creature. If you want to get philosophical about it, that is.
And well, I suppose that leads me to right now. Here's the plan for the rest of the day:
- work out (the word "plan" evidently does not refer to realistic goals)
- study hard (see above parentheses)
- make pasta (this one's attainable, if Kraft Dinner counts)
- party hard (it's Friday, y'all. Maybe I'll even finish watching this season of How I Met Your Mother. It's getting rowdy up in here)
- find a boyfriend (anything can happen on a night in with your amino acid cue cards and processed foodstuffs)
We'll see how all of that goes.
As a closing thought, there have been ads around the city for this mall called Southgate for months now. Only today did I notice that the ads were cleverly 1920s-themed. Whoever passed on not temporarily renaming the mall "Southgatesby," I should have your job.
Well, at least they got the "great."
No comments:
Post a Comment