My Weekend

Well here's my going's on. I don't have any great insights today. I never do, but I like to pretend that when I set out to write these things (blog. Blog? That damn word...) I have an idea of where i'm going to go with them. This creates the illusion, in my mind, of a great plan; arching ideas where the reader intently leans against his/her elbows, eyes illuminated, brain racing trying to keep up. You all weep. You all cry. You all clamor for more. I hope this really does happen. That would make me say the word blog.

So last night I finished Running With Scissors. It was awesome, and made me only think, after I was done, "Why can't I write a book then?" Then I realized that my life wasn't his and I wasn't gay and my childhood stories are like laffy taffy jokes compared to Augusten Borroughs' stories. But it still made me want to write a book.

Then this morning I officially switched showers to the secondary shower. I couldn't help it. The old shower is a demon. It's a scary monster and I'm afraid of it. I feel like my grandma who's scared of the dvd player. I don't know how it works, I don't know how to operate it, and I'm certainly not the one in control. So I stole all of my things from it and went to the other bathroom. It's like bliss. The lighting is even better. It's like showering in a rainforest, tropical paradise. I'm in love. And slightly scared of what the old shower will say.

On the way to work this morning my mom said, "BURN IN HELL JAMES FREY!!!" over the phone. Yelled it. I couldn't agree any more.

Tonight Natalie and I will be seeing Girl Talk in Salt Lake. This is awesome to me.

Tomorrow Natalie, Liz, and I are all going trick or treating in the dorms. Liz is dressing as Margot Tennenbaum. I should have been the Baumber. I remember back in the summer I had actually SAID OUTLOUD that I wanted to be Richie. I think it's when I saw some cool glasses and a tennis racket. I just remembered that right now though. It's ok, my costume is great anyways. Natalie and I are being Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald. We've got classy clothes and a bottle of Welch's 1975. It'll be an affair to remember. Then after that we're all heading up to Salt Lake to see Rocky Horror Picture show, as done by the latter-day transvestites. I wonder how they're voting Prop 8...

So this is my weekend. We'll see how it goes. I'm sure it'll go awesomely. But maybe our Suburban will flip or I'll break my leg again or something. Somebody pray that doesn't happen. Not me though. I'm not praying that. Then it gives God the idea. Then I'm goin' down.

Today has no point. haha. Except for Girl Talk. Doin' time. Wastin' mine.