Tried to get a "good night's sleep" last night, by going to bed around 11. After walking a lot, and being downtown all afternoon, I figured it'd happen. And it did, I guess, until about 4:30 this morning.
I actually woke with a start, like that weird expression that makes no sense to me. I sat right up in bed (so fast that I got a head rush, actually), having a small meltdown about what had just happened in my dream. The weirdest part of the whole thing was that as soon as I was awake I knew it had been a dream, but I chose to continue wondering how such a terrible thing had happened to me.
Reality has no place in my house in the morning.

Today, I give you links to amuse:
How to know if you're a hipster,
Literary tattoos,
A new take on book reviews,
And something kinda scary.

Of Note.

This is both disturbing and raises a good point. Can children be removed from their homes based on parents' beliefs? There was actually a Boston Legal episode that was kind of similar (I thought I'd just heard this story before, but then I realised that James Spader probably wasn't really involved and thus it had to be a storyline to something).
I was going to post a list of article-y fun links for the week, but I think it'll wait until I get back from looking at colours with Karley.

Hot as balls yesterday. I woke up this morning at 3:41am, to some lovely (and needed) rain outside. Unfortunately, it stopped around 5. When I checked the weather at 8 this morning, after about an hour of sleep, it was already 32 degrees when the humidity was factored in. 32! I stepped outside a few minutes ago, and noticed that it's raining again - and delightfully cool and breezy outside.
I'm trying to figure out what exactly the deal is with Muxtape. I don't understand the specifics - like, can I just put up whatever songs I want? It's fair game, as long as it's only 12 songs from different artists and albums? If anyone can clarify, let me know.
Update: I'm just going to post some songs because I think I'm allowed. Check 'em here.

Creeped out dot com

I'm watching An American Crime. This movie is beyond creepy, and not just because of who's in it. I can't believe Gertrude Baniszewski was let out of prison.

I think I'm going to compensate with Office Space afterwards, because I won't be able to sleep if this movie is the last thing I see tonight.

Lil' Miss Get Around

I wonder if anyone gets that song reference.

It's been almost a month. Poor, neglected blog. Here's a little resuscitation.

[...I just spelled "resuscitation" right on the first try. Point!]

I went to Toronto. Someone on the street tried to convince me to do porn. [I didn't.] I visited Meredith and Josh. I saw a crazy Norwegian band and not much else, thanks to unnecessary bullshit. It was a nice weekend, filled with good food and lovely people. I drove home with Don, Nathan, and Jonah who were recording their new record with Ian Blurton that week. Even though we left Toronto at 3am, it was a lovely drive. I counted 8 dead things on the side of the road (well, I only really started counting once the sun comes up, so I'm sure there were more), and we had breakfast at Café Orange once we got to Montreal.

Since then, it's been a whole lot of nothing. Actually...that's not entirely true. I've got a new career idea, and it's called Avoiding People Who Want To Hang Out With Me. I assure you, I'm fantastic at it. If I could combine that for my love of the internet and bad sitcoms, I think I'd be a very rich girl. I've got a few key targets I'm avoiding, and any number of interchangeable weirdos besides those, so my plate is very full. Everything I do, from running out for groceries to going for a drink must be carefully considered: who could I run into? what are the possible side effects I'll have to put up with if I stay here for a while?
I've discovered something else: I have an incredibly low tolerance for most people these days. My conversation skills are severely lapsed as well, apparently, because I can't seem to keep my end up without resorting to inane classics like "so, where are you from?" Ugh. I hate it. It's probably because of my reliance on a lack of interpersonal contact as of late, and the fact that most of the people I meet these days are horribly uninteresting. And irritating. There, I've come full circle now, and still don't have an answer as to why I'm getting fed up so quickly. I used to be great at all of that conversation-with-strangers crap.

I know there was something I wanted to do on July 6th, and I'm blanking on it now. Shit. July 13th will see me getting an autographed copy of David Sedaris' When You Are Engulfed in Flames for my birthday (what? you don't give yourself presents?). I'm trying to decide on a plan for that oft-celebrated day, and I can't quite bring myself to just let it pass by. See, as with most people, I love birthdays. Especially my own. But every year in the past five or so has inevitably ended in disappointment. Last year had heaps of it - from making my own cake to working at 5am (and being sent home at 6, having made about 40 dollars) to having my boyfriend completely forget about it - so I can't help but be a little optimistic that this year will finally see me celebrating properly. Then again, I should just not think about it, but since I have hours on end available to muse about nothing I'm sure I will. I think I'll fill it up with Andrew W.K., The Cure, and booze. Sound good? Yeah, I think so too. Feel free to join me. I'm turning 21, so I might convince a friend to drive down to Plattsburgh for a drink with me.

Because we can.

Oh, by the way, that picture is around 5:30am on the drive home. I just thought a little bit of sunrise might be nice.

Oh COME ON

That title is for you, Ellen. A Gob Bluth reference.

I went to a lovely dinner party tonight. Great girls, great food, all around good times. I stopped by Honey's on my way home, and as I walked in my door about 45 minutes later I found myself thinking, "Oh, COME ON!"

Here's the sitch: I went to the bar to have a drink, then head on home. I sat down next to a random dude I've seen in there before, and trust me when I say that I did not look outlandishly gorgeous (especially relative to some of the girls that come in on the average Friday night). Now, after 1 drink and 2 cigarettes, and some light conversation, this dude sits back down and says to me, "so, I'll finish this drink up and then we'll head back to your place?"
As you all know (and by "all," I mean the 1 or 2 of you that read this), I'm not exactly antisocial. I'll keep up my end of a conversation, and I've been known to flirt with someone on occasion. However. I do believe in a certain level of courtship, or at least more than half an hour of conversation before I'd bring someone home with me. My reason for this post is that I want to know why this person would get such an impression. I've gone over and over this conversation in my head (the topics were basically engineering, electricians, Ben Franklin/his syphillis, and nothing more in depth than that), and I'm still trying to figure out where this invitation may have inadvertently crept in. I even made a point of not letting him pay for my second drink. I mean, COME ON. Men cannot be at the point where getting spoken to equals getting laid, right?
For the record, as soon as he said it, I couldn't help but throw in, "Well, I am. You're not." Too mean? Nah, I didn't think so either.