seventy-two hours

Things about the last three days that have been deeply awesome:

- Al Gore, Al Gore, Al Gore. I have adored him ever since I volunteered for his campaign my freshman year of college and if by some miracle he were to run again, I would quit my job and sell my condo and hand out leaflets on a street corner for him. And I hate people who hand out leaflets on corners. Watching him be the King of the Oscars last night was tremendously enjoyable and validating. I love everything about him. This deserves its own post. That post will be coming soon.

- Accidentally throwing back too many beers at happy hour on Friday with S and her friends, getting to exactly the stage of tipsiness that makes people feel not at all guilty about blowing sixty dollars on oysters and boulliabasse.

- Emma's potluck on Saturday (I made Thai veggie stir-fry) and hosting my own dinner party on Sunday (with gruyere chicken gratin, asparagus and dark chocolate fondue).

- Waking up at noon on Sunday to six inches of perfect fluffy snow and taking a break from shoveling to have a snowball fight with the kids cleaning the sidewalk across the street. Because throwing things at innocent children is totally what God intended with the whole "day of rest" thing.

- Ragging on the Oscar red carpet. Remember the episode of 90210 where Donna Martin dressed up as a mermaid for Halloween at the college party (also where Kelly Taylor taught us that if you wear black lace and a tight-lipped smile to a frat party then you are totally asking to get assaulted; wow, that show really advanced the feminist movement)? And remember how Donna hobbled around the entire time and couldn't really move because she was swathed into an insanely bejeweled and unflattering glittery number and her big ol' wig was just plopped on her head and kept flopping in the way? Well, Beyonce was the Armani version of that outfit at the Oscars last night.



I look at her and think HIPS. HIIIIIIIIPS. I'm fairly sure that's not what she was going for. But I'm so glad she did it, because nothing is more fun than wearing my glasses and ratty old jeans from high school, getting tipsy with a bunch of girlfriends and yelling rude things about highly groomed celebrities at the television. Oh, and snorting chardonnay through my nose when Ryan Seacrest said "there's a lot of Wang on the red carpet tonight!" It's class all the way at EJ's place.


Things about the last three days that are not so awesome:

- Putting on work pants this morning and being absolutely horrified at what seventy-two hours of eating like it was my last meal before execution has done to my own midsection.

- The continued presence of web sidebar ads for Open Water 2. If the DVD came out four days ago, why exactly is it still being splashed all over every trashy entertainment website I read? While I generally love anything having to do with Center Stage, including but not limited to pronouncing it "the BAH-lay," the Jamiroquai-heavy soundtrack and Peter Gallagher's eyebrows, there is something really creepy wound around Susan May Pratt's neck in that ad and I really don't want to constantly see her open-mouthed expression of utter terror on top of the squid's tentacle or whatever that thing is.

- So my new building has a no-pet policy. I have a pet. I have a little baby girl kitty who I adopted from an animal rescue group. Giving up Sadie is not an option, but neither can I give up my apartment for her. This is actually something fairly serious to me, certainly more so than unpleasant popup ads, and though there's no way Sadie is not making the move with me I'm nervous about the execution of sneaking her into my new home. Yes, I've been known to do things like quit my "dream" job and go be a homeless bum in Prague, but I'm a pretty rule-abiding person. Even though it appears to be a toothless policy-- it's not a co-op, so they can't kick me out-- starting my residency there by breaking said policy is hardly ideal.

- I'm really pretty sure that Helen Mirren is having better sex than me.