The good life

Noon: Wake up for the second time. Realize that car is still in French Quarter. Find VIP card from strip club in purse.

It was a good night.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

I don't know what the next line of that old song is, but for me it's definitely "Back to writing a 40-70 page comment for the journal." How's that for coming back from vacation? Regardless, Spring Break was a good time. I look a bit like a lobster, but I guess that's to be expected from someone whose normal skin tone is in the pale and freckly range. On the plus side, several of my freckles seem to have connected, making it appear as though I have extra melanin somewhere under the surface. Anyway, without further ado, some Spring Break highlights:
- It would seem that BBH and I have some awesome McDonald's karma. Two meals for the price of half of one? 3000+ calories for $4? That's what I call happiness.
- On the same subject, it would seem that most girls who go to Florida for Spring Break don't eat all that much. At least, this is the only way that I can explain the reactions of our waiters to our mammoth orders. Even better though, was the range of facial expressions garnered by the fact that not only do we order eight baskets of breadsticks, but eat every single one of them. I thought our waiter that night was gonna laugh when he offered us dessert. Strangely enough, it would seem that laying on the beach and consuming my body weight in seafood is good for the figure, since I lost a couple of pounds.
- Apparently, proximity to the ocean makes me even clumsier than normal. BBH has rechristened me Zero Gravity in light of the many face-plants that I did into the sand. Strangely, I was mostly sober for most of them.
- A relative lack of drama. You know, because most times that you put eight girls into two hotel rooms, you're in store for some hair pullin'.
- The sexiest way to save water...that's for you PP.

Anyway, as you can see, Spring Break was relatively uneventful, which is just the way that I like it. Now back to my commenting, by which, of course, I mean facebooking.

Boobs!

Ha! While I may have walked around with my bathing suit top on upside down for three hours yesterday, it would seem that I do still have one area of genius. I took this quiz that tests you to see whether you can tell the difference between real and fake boobs, and I got 19/20. I'm really way too proud of myself for this.

Indulging my laziness on the beach

So, yes, it's been a while since I last posted. This is because nothing particularly noteworthy, funny, etc. has happened to me in the last few weeks. Law school has just been law school, with no random events to turn into a post. Today is no different, but I wanted to let all ten of my readers know that I probably won't be posting for the next week either, because I'll be on the beach. That wonderful time of year known as Spring Break is upon us, and I plan on indulging my desire to do absolutely nothing. Except for my journal comment, which, cruelly enough, is due the Friday after I return. So wish me nice weather and I'll be back next Saturday, hopefully with some good adventures to report.

Update: Benjamin Button

So, the coffee company across the street has kindly agreed to let me and Max use their parking lot while the movie people are here. Thus, having erased all traces of annoyance at not being able to park in front of my house, I can fully concentrate on my Brad-stalking endeavors. The craft services area is in full swing, and is beginning to resemble a circus, but still no Brad sightings. What I really need is a dog so that I can snap its leash on and wander around the neighborhood without looking like I'm wandering around the neighborhood solely in the hopes of seeing Brad Pitt. Hmmm, I wonder if Mosquito would consent to being on a leash.

Benjamin Button

The other day a friend of mine posted about the general annoyance that accompanies the filming of a movie in one's neighborhood. I read the post and thought to myself "But Asenath, it's Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt." Well, I got home today, and there was a little notice in my door saying that they would be filming in my neighborhood and that I would be unable to park on my street for three days, starting tomorrow. Anyone who's read my previous post about parking knows that I hate it when I can't park at my house. Plus, people get shot near my neighborhood. Not a lot, but it's been known to happen, especially lately. So, all I gotta say is that I better not get mugged, or heads are gonna roll. As preemptive measure, I propose that Brad himself should walk me home to protect me. That, I am sure, would erase all annoyance caused by lack of parking. You know, it's just a suggestion.

Isn't it ironic*

It would seem that everytime I think that something is never going to happen, I'm going to be wrong. Last semester, when I thought that I aced my Income Tax exam, I ended up getting a completely average grade on it. I thought that I failed my EU final, and it ended up being my highest grade. Yesterday, I made the executive decision to give up on the job search, accept the fact that no one was going to hire me, and go to Siena for the summer to learn about International Art Law. When I got home to check my email, I found that I'd been selected for one of the spring interviews. This is both annoying, because I was really into the idea of going to Italy, and comforting, because maybe I'll get the job and I can stop worrying that I'm going to unemployed and in debt forever. So, I'm going to test my theory and stop wishing that I were filthy rich. Hopefully, if I'm right, I'll win the lottery.

*I never use this word, because despite having looked up the definition any number of times, I can never tell if I'm using it in the right way or not. So, anyway, if I'm wrong, please don't tell me.