I don't usually go out on big holidays. It's not my thing. I sort of hate...everyone. But especially crowds. And the downside of being from the teeny tiny hamlet of San Francisco, where everyone knows everyone, is that someone will inevitably see me act like the kind of jackass you act on these nights and it gets back to my parents and that's no good. Plus transport is a pain in the ass and...well...you can see my general attitude towards it is why I don't go out on what are amateur nights. I prefer to keep my assyness to every other weekend on the calendar, leaving these festive type weekends to the young'uns.
I went to see Hair tonight. It was fun. It felt a little like a high school production though. Just really exuberant young people dancing around for 3 hours with very little plot. Not that that's a complaint (lots of shirtless pretty 20 something doods is alright by me). And I may be listening to the soundtrack now and dancing around the beach house. Maybe.
Which is a nice change from yesterdays attitude. See: I got "He's not that into you"'d by a 22 year old. Frankly, that's the height of absurdity. I spent a few hours pissed about it, then a day feeling all rejected and losery, eating all my favorite junk foods. Then I got real talk from my friends/stepsis and now I'm gonna dance around the beach house and drink leftovers from the party and he can kindly gfh because I'm awesome. I mean, I'm playing tug-o-war with the 90 pound pitbull while drinking beer with the windows open. That's AWESOME. And he could be here. But he's not. So screw him (figuratively, of course).
About that pitbull: I suddenly had the genius idea that I need to make him 2 other false heads and he can go as cerberus for Halloween. Why did I not think of that earlier? I always said if I got a dog as big and intimidating as him he'd be named Cerby. I geek out on mythology.
Anyway, all of that is a long way of saying, I'm gonna live blog the drinking. But frankly, it might be short because I'm kinda ready to just go to sleep. Alone. Stupid boys. (Drink 1: pumpkin ale stuff. Why does everyone love this? It's like drinking pie. I prefer to eat my pie.)
12:42: the 90 lb dog is laying across my lap. I told him he's not exactly what I had in mind to cuddle with tonight. Yes, I speak out loud to my dogs. Whatever, you do it too. It never ceases to amuse the hell out of me how something that's supposed to be so fearsome can be such a baby.
In other news: my workouts, while (somewhat) consistent, haven't exactly been pushing the limit lately. I'm gonna do the 7 mile walk/hike up through Land's End tomorrow as
1:13: I am still on beer 2. The hell? I am also listening to the entire Lost Boys soundtrack. And still resisting purchasing the movie for $4.99 on iTunes. Because I'm not sure I'd actually watch it that much but nostalgia dictates I should have it. There's really only one song to listen to on the soundtrack and that's the epic Santa Cruz bonfire/Jason Patrick sees Jamie Gertz/saxaphone heavy song I Still Believe. Okay, Cry Little Sister is pretty legit too.
1:21 Moved to beer 3, found an Abita in the fridge. Still listening to Lost Boys soundtrack.
2:04 and still on the Abita. Guess I'm not really into this drinking thing tonight. Keep pushing the pit off of my section of the couch. Started watching Real Genius but got bored with that so now just me and the dogs on the couch. Alright, I'm also half screwing around on stupid online dating site, that I had previously quit and thought I was all badass. I didn't even quit it for a month. Geezus. It's just, ya know, ME on the couch though and that's kind of a bummer. Think it's prolly time to call it a night. (Fortunately sober so not doing anything idiotic with my phone. But so tempted.)
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