Tabula Rasa

Happy New Year. Here's to a new beginning.

deck da haws wif bowrs of horry, fa ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra

Its almost Christmas, hooray!!

So I think that when Kelly gets here on Friday, I'll meet her at my house after work around 6 and then we will get dressed up and go eat at Sermets, and then we will go see 'WTF Is Up With The Morgans' or whatever that Hugh Grant/SJP movie is called that is coming out that night.
Then on Saturday we will go downtown and get some coffee and walk around and see the sights and try to spot some JLC members, since this always seems to happen when we are both in Charleston at the same time. Then we will meet up with Sissy and go eat and go to Social to gab and have a couple of drinks and spy on my crush Brad B. (i never do first and last names on here anymore after finding out the hard way that the person you reference can very easily find themselves) Then I was thinking we might go to Kaminsky's. I haven't run this by anyone except myself, so I'm not sure.
Then on Sunday we will get up and do--something, I don't know. And then we will head home to TR (maybe stop at Cracker Barrel on the way?)

And that is my stream of consciousness for the next few days. The end.

get ready for several paragraphs of pure bitchery

It is hurricaning in Charleston, and holy lord am I unprepared. I don't own things like umbrellas and rainboots because they are so rarely needed here. Unfortunately though, when they ARE needed it is in a major, major way. I had to drive around for a good 20 minutes this morning just to find a space that wasn't submerged in 18 inches of water, and when I did finally find one it was actually surrounded on all sides by 18 inches of water, making the walk to work a cold, wet, thoroughly unpleasant ordeal. Once I got here I microwaved my socks so they are toasty and warm, but my dark-wash jeans are soaked, pretty much guaranteeing that my legs will be in interesting shade of indigo by the end of the day.

ANYway, I just read this quote off of Leo Epstein's blog, and it seems hilariously timely in the context of my life right now:

Got dumped this week by a boy I’m not even seeing. I hate when that happens. It’s like you skipped ahead, then put a wrinkle in time. Should have seen it coming (I did, I suppose), and made the move first. Moments like that make me think of being 16, 17, a smarty-pants with braces, to whom older guys would say, “Just wait until college and your twenties—guys will be all over you.” Just like that movie with Drew Barrymore. Does every thirtysomething guy say this to the awkward teenage girls he meets? Not that they lied—they were right for the most part. But maybe gave you false hope that the guys who would be all over you would be the guys of your dreams.

I'm not gonna lie, its vaguely comforting to know that your "problems" are so generic that they actually end up on one of the three blogs you follow.

There is a home video being sold by a private owner of Marilyn Monroe smoking the ganje at a get-together in the late fifties. I didn't even know they had home videos in the fifties. Or weed, for that matter. But the point is I think its kind of cool. I've never been a big Marilyn fan, she just seems like the go-to icon for every stupid, vapid hollywood starlet who wants her run-of-the-mill drug and alcohol addiction to seem glamorous and tortured. "I SO identify with Marilyn Monroe, because I'm tragically beautiful and constantly battling my inner demons, don't you agree?" Shut up Megan Fox and Lindsay Lohan. There is no glamour these days, just tits and ass.
Anyway, the point is I'm glad to know that she would just kick back and get high sometimes. Makes me like her better.