Every Friday on the back of my paper there’s a little article with contributions from a rotating assortment of 20-somethings in my city who all talk about what they’re going to do this weekend. Fantastic, fabulous things that usually involve lots of drinking and friends and probably some hooking up without any of the awkward designated driver stuff (Digression: Seriously. Am I the only one who thinks it is more trouble than it’s worth to go out and drink? This is Milwaukee for God’s sakes, you can’t walk anywhere and we have like TWO cabs.)
And because I’m a masochist, I read it every week. And then every week I go back out into the kitchen and think “What the hell, why shouldn’t I eat a brownie for breakfast?”
So today, I’m writing my own.
Friday I’ll be eating vegetarian lasagna…at home. In my kitchen. While watching “Amne$ia” on FOX, because, well, I’m a bottom feeder. Then I’ll probably fall asleep watching Best Week Ever because I suck and am inordinately tired for a perfectly healthy youngish person.
Saturday morning I’ll be washing my hair, drying it with two different towels, and spritzing it (YES IT IS A PROCESS STOP JUDGING ME) ignoring my blues lyrics that I’m supposed to write (and no, not because I’m in some band, but because God HATES ME THAT’S WHY) and probably bake some more brownies. Or coffee cake. Because my mom said she wanted some and dammit, she is ill and I should help her, right??? Then I’ll probably watch some Family Ties on DVD because there is nothing I love more than an ’80s sitcom that deals with pressing, real-life issues like the fact that Mallory maybe wants to sleep with her boyfriend who’s in college and does NO ONE REALIZE THIS IS STATUTORY RAPE!?!?! Then I’ll go to Mass and try really hard to avoid hitting my grandfather with something heavy, like perhaps a hymnal or maybe a candlestick. Hey. I was a server for eight years. I know where they keep the good shit.
Sunday could go two ways- I could work all day, which would suck, or I could pawn my hours off and probably repeat Saturday except without the hair washing because that much cleanliness? Cannot be good. Sunday night I am expecting to get roaringly drunk and watch the Oscars and then cry when Johnny Depp doesn’t win. Oh, and eat some brownies.
I don’t think I’ll get published.
Did go see Definitely, Maybe this afternoon, though. A few thoughts.
-I flippin’ love stories about how parents meet. They’re flippin’ adorable.
-So is Ryan Reynolds. And Abigail Breslin. And Isla Fisher. Indeed, the’re all flippin adorable.
-Kevin Kline is really old. Dude.
-Was not amused that there appeared to be no reason for the divorce. None at all.
-There was a trailer for the new Indiana Jones. I don’t care that he’s old and decrepit. I’m going. It looks awesome.
-There was a trailer for Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day, and holy Christmas on an oceanliner is Pushing Daisies Guy hot.