... where you suddenly realize that you just ate an entire sleeve of Fig Newtons and are about to finish off a bottle of cranberry juice and you're thinking to yourself "Why are portions so large these days? I could easily subsist on 8 oz. of juice instead of the 15 or 16 that I have been given. " And then you curse the establishment and the men who created the establishment, and hop right back into your quasi-feminist shoes of wrath.
My refrigerator is being ridiculously loud. It isn't necessarily a problem right now, but at 7:30 in the morning when I'm trying to sleep and already feeling semi-nauseous it happens to be right by my head. And then we have problems.
I've been watching "Angels in America" for the past week or so, and I still can't decide exactly how I feel about it. I'm glad that it was made into mini-series (courtesy of HBO), and the cast is great, but there are still some parts that I feel are just... awkward when you watch them in that televised setting. Just because they come out really scripted in this really realistic place that you're taken to. Plus, I hate the ending dialogues.
All I know is that I want a funeral filled with drag queens and good gospel music. And that's pretty much all I want from life right now.
And Justin Kirk is a beautiful man... but only in profile.
Thirty-three more hours until the Spanish final destroys me! I should start a countdown feature. If only I were so skilled...
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