so we kinda watched an episode of "the search for the next pussycat doll" (the show that bumped veronica mars off the air for 9 weeks or something). the roomie was actively campaigning for it (i guess when you deal with the miracle/disaster of birth on a semi-daily basis, you need to unplug), because she thinks that the show will feature some funny challenges, like how to pole dance or something. the first episode was basically everything you would expect. the "creator" of the pussycat dolls is a heavily botoxed and reconfigured woman who after much obvious plastic surgery, now looks like that uniquely l.a. curious amalgam of the 40 year old/20 year old cross. the girls are also wicked trashy. it also featured such breathy endorsements as: "the pussycat dolls like, defined my generation" now, i'm not 18 anymore (although i was mistaken for a 21 year old by a coworker at a library i was doing extra hours at), but haven't the pussycat dolls been around for like, 3 years? is that what it takes to make a generational imprint nowadays? sadly, postmodernism would indicate, yes.
after the show, i was trying to illustrate that i can't do that stripper-dance body roll (that fluid motion where you stick you butt out and roll it in, while standing...trust me, you know the one). so i tried once. the boy's face drained of colour, mouth gaped open, aghast. "don't ever do that again". then the laughter began. at my expense. the best way to describe what i unveiled is to call it the body-vomit. in my defense! i'm not that bad when it comes to dancing to something with a beat! i'm just not made for stripping, dammit!
i ended up eating dinner at 5pm yesterday, in between my classes, and didn't get home until 9:45 (blast you, night class!!!). i was ravenous. the CLEARLY sensible thing to do was to eat 2 hot dogs and a box of kd and some bbq chips. in bed, watching buffy the vampire slayer, season 6. obvs. i created a highly questionable cooking technique that i'm going to call: boiling-the-hot-dogs-in-the-kd-water. you start the hot dogs first, take them out, and then let the kd cook in the hot dog-sweat infused water. trust me, you'll start seeing it on menus soon 'nuff.
it's a measure of how hungry i was, and the cavernous capaciousness of my stomach at the time, that i didn't wake up with heartburn once. although i did have a dream where i was working in france at some parisian juice store, while waiting to learn enough french so that i could work in a french/english library.
night class was a monster drag. i basically spent the time on msn web messenger and ebay, bemoaning the fact that i totally slept on amy winehouse tickets and now they're all sold out. oh well, she'll be back, and quite frankly, i blame pitchfork for it. you know what we DID get tickets for???? THE POLICE!!! all my siblings and attendant significant others are going. it's going to be so much fun! i'm a "best-of" police fan, and i mean, that's what they're going to play, so it's going to be aces (as if they're going to be unveiling rare b-sides). i've never been to a huge rock show at the acc either. AND the fact that the whole crew of siblings is going is awesome! right down to my 18-year old little brother, who, when i asked him if he had heard ghostface's "more fish" gave me a withering, "that's so old". yikes! we didn't get seats together because ticketmaster is nazi. they only let you get FOUR (4!!!) tickets on one credit card. if you try to get another four on the same credit card, they cancel your first order. i mean, i understand setting a limit...but FOUR?!? it should at least be 8 so that you can organize a group of friends to go together. laame.
tonight is take-out night here at the ranch. we're going to be trying a new place: dukem ethiopian around the corner from our place. review and pictures to follow!