Bof!

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Meet Your Waitress: #81

Waitress: Can I get any drinks started for you guys?


8 year-old: I want water!


Waitress: Alright. (turns to the other guests seated at the table)


8 year-old: (interrupting) That's a glass, filled with just water.


Waitress: (inner monologue) Don't you dare explain a glass of water to me, you little shit bag.  YOU THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT THE WORLD NOW, DON'T YOU? DON'T YOU?!  That your brain is so developed!  Life has been figured out!  No more secrets!  JUST WAIT, YOU LITTLE FUCKER. JUST. YOU. WAIT.  (to the child, sweetly) Mmmkay!

"bless the man who broke her heart." -roommate

"Meisner pauses to light a cigarette. 'Now, wait. I said we're going to take this slowly.'"

So, 2011 hasn't been my best blogging year.  Sorry.  But it's really a good thing, because most of my energy has been harnessed towards acting and reading and writing.  You know... persthonal things.

I started a new acting class in January, and it's kind of taken over my world.
Acting, when done well, requires a lot from a person...  all of these things that exist inside you, but you have to flex and trust until they're forgotten completely.  It's only after the parts are assembled and greased that you can turn the key, rev the engine, and forget about everything besides the person in front of you.  It requires a lot of self and creative exploration... so I've been spelunking myself.  For lack of a better term.

Otherwise, what I've failed to present:

An Illini Christmas

City Shenanigans

Ketchup Wars

Birthday Hikes

Mountain Tops

Favorite Places

Soundtrack

It's 10:12 in the morning, and I'm already running late.

I kick my clothes around the floor, looking for pants.  Jeans, specifically.  The dirtier the comfier, but really it's all I have.  Now the shirt.  Blue?  Blue.  I can see Andrew, my roommate, through the hall mirror.  He's crouching at his desk, watching this on the computer:

Clothes, check.  Wallet, check.  Keys, check.  Hmmmmmm food?  I slide down the hall and into the kitchen, which smells like coffee grounds, wine, pizza cheese, what have you.  All the good stuff. Open the freezer door and wonder, why exactly did I start freezing bread?  Is this normal?  Maybe the world is secretly full of little bread-freezers, just like me...  Butt piece goes straight in the toaster and I'm onto the fridge, which is a quick and easy decision -delicious peanut butter.

I place the bread on top of the coffee machine, grab a heavy table knife and let it sink into the jar.  There's something awesome about taking a heavy pull of peanut butter, wrestling through all the thick stickiness, and leveling it over the bread.  Swoosh to the left, swoosh to the right, hitting the corners and sides, humming along to this sad song.  Which I really love.  

It's 10:20 in the morning, and I'm a space cadet eating toast.

Meet Casimir Pulaski,

our newest roommate.

Casimir was a birthday present,

 with a bum fin

 and furrowed brow.

Quite the dignified rebel,

  who spends most of his time staring out the window, listening to old people tinker down the street with their walkers and oversized shoes. 

Winter?