Last night there was a party
(in my pants!).
And by party I mean myself and two friends sat around watching the Red Sox get their asses handed to them and successfully drank about 15 dollars worth of cheap alcohol in abject sadness and torment. This morning I woke up unable to place myself into the spectrum of the last two hours before I allegedly passed out in all of my clothes leading me to believe that I was temporarily abducted by Asian tourists and forced to walk behind their various family members again and again so they could take pictures with authentic passerby-ers standing between their big blinking smiles and the monument du jour.
I had this thought yesterday and voiced it to friend School Marm to which she expressed marginal interest (and by marginal I mean she wrinkled her nose and gave me a funny look...as I recall)
Thought being: I wonder how many pictures in this world have me "passing by" in them. How many people out there on this planet have pictures of a blurred arm belonging to me, or pictures containing the back of my head?
Isn't that weird?!
Aren't I so weird and original!?!!?
I am supposed to be reading Faulkner and studying for the GREs.
I am actually eating goldfish and polishing off a warm gatorade purchased earlier this morning at 711.
I am such a rock star.