Monday, April 13, 2009

BFFs. No we're not.

Heyo.

It was a daunting weekend. Want to know why? Even if you don't I'm telling you anyway.

After spending much of Friday afternoon doing work in the Library, I realized my keys were locked inside my house and that I am the most intelligent person in the world. Bess tried to break in with a Blockbuster card and then Justin and Eva traipsed by my door. "Hey! Ha...locked outta mah house! I'm such a...silly person. Heh heh...heh.....Well, see ya later!" Justin tried to break in through my roommate's window but to no avail. "Oh well. Call me if you need a couch." With that they stumbled forth into the night.

And thus began a night of slumber at Bess' house. This slumber included a wonderfully vivid dream about Erica being an art teacher at the summer camp I dreamedly (I made up a word) worked at. The most exciting part I can remember is when a camper introduced herself as Melanie and I said "Oh! Well, you look like a Melanie." Erica took me aside and said I was racist for saying that. And un-PC. I said no I'm not racist. Nor un-PC.

Take that, Erica.

Saturday morning as if by some heavenly miracle brought forth by St. Francis himself (so sue me. I like animals), the Blockbuster card tore through that door with a vengeance. So I put on my Easter outfit and my Easter shoes and got in my car and drowned out the poopiness of the day with some new Bloc Party, until I came upon the ridiculously unnecessary detour about 8 feet before the 78 entrance ramp. (Have you seen this? What could they possibly be doing to an 8 foot stretch of road?) And this detour was a detour to rival all detours. I thought the highway department was playing a joke on drivers. I can just see them in their fluorescent traffic vests and hard hats, smiling villainously and rubbing their dirty, grubby, sausagy hands together saying "heheheee turn left. No right. NO LEFT again. NO RIIIGHT!!!! MUUUhahahah!"

But I made it home. And watched my dad try and control the SEVEN LAMBS he RENTED for our Easter Extravaganza ("What? I like animals"). After watching little kids beat a donkey pinata adorned with makeshift bunny ears, I decided to hide from my family. But not before all 35 of them asked me what I was doing with my life! Oh no. You don't get off that easy! You see it's all about comparisons and making sure no one else is doing better than little Henry who's going to grad school for stem cell research or Barbara who wants to feed yogurt to starving children in Uganda. Over the years, I have developed a way to combat these inquiries. I just tell them I plan on getting my SCUBA certification and marrying rich, or something equally housewifey.

Acting? What about acting.

No, actually I am really excited to work on Moliere, but not as excited for the rhyming. It sounds beautiful but g-damn it's hard to not get into a Dr. Seuss-y rhyming funk. Also, I think I am having trouble trying not to be Phoebe when I play Celimene. I am looking forward to my lovely classmates' help.

This is long-winded.

Love,
Katie

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