So, last night, after having an icky day of disappointments: doctor's visit, and three friends letting me down, I decided I needed some ME time and after taking a 1/2 day off from work (most of which was spent in the doctor's WAITING room, I went and stood for two hours in the Standby Line for tickets to the above show. Besides the interesting time I had in line (I'll write about that later), I thought just for now, I'd talk about the play itself. The play was fantastic, but I really want to focus on a few of the performances....
I won't go into the story or the whole concept of Shakespeare in the Park since most people know about both already. My main goal is to talk about the actors, especially one who surprised me! I was initially most interested in seeing Sam Waterston since as I have said before, I am a huge fan of Law & Order and find him to be a great actor. Though I won't deny he did a fine job in his part of Leonato, I was also kind of disappointed. Maybe the correct word is "amused." During a scene where Leonato is proclaiming his anger and disgust due to finding out (falsely) that his daughter is raging slut, Waterston was so animated and loud, that he began bouncing up and down and spitting like a fierce little cat (this was emphasized by the fact that he was a bit shorter than I thought he'd be, particularly in his legs). His balled fists, his rapid seizure-like movements induced more than a few twitters from the crowd. I know Shakespeare is supposed to be passionate while using that lofty, snob-like voice, but it was a bit over the top for proletariat me.
Waterston's daugther Elisabeth was also in the play as the lovely and "modest" Hero. Hopefully, she is just starting out in acting, 'cause she sucks. I'm sure she's a very nice young woman, but she was crap on the stage. Maybe it's because she doesn't possess that holier-than-thou voice. Dunno.
Kristen Johnson (best known as the big scary chick on "Third Rock from the Sun") was surprisingly great as the cheeky older maid Beatrice. She was funny, witty, and likeable even in her bitchiness. I didn't expect to like her in this play, but I really thought she was well-cast in this part. It fit her in every respect.
The one I REALLY want to praise to the skies though, with great surprise to myself, is JIMMY SMITS as BENEDICK! When I first heard he was in the play, I kind of grimaced. Sure, I swooned over him in L.A. Law and enjoyed him occasionally on NYPD Blue, but I was never really impressed with him one way or the other. He completely stole the show. He was not just funny, he was hysterical, one of the only characters to consistently get long, loud, and well-deserved laughter from the audience, and the first real ovation during the performance. His antics though silly, were all fitting and never seemed to be overacting. The scene where he "discovers" that Beatrice loves him by eavesdropping on friends in an orchard (and later falling into a well), was probably the best in the play, far better than the wedding scene (with feral Waterston) which I think was supposed to be the most impressive. I soon found that when Smits was not in a scene I was truly disappointed and distracted wondering if he would be in the next (no, I have not actually read/seen this play before). I eagerly looked forward to his appearance from the wings and just loved his every scene.
And my last bit of praise goes out to Brian Murray and Dane Knell who play Detective Dogberry and Verges. Hooray to these two other scene stealers! These older gentlemen were a delight and repeatedly had the audience smiling and laughing with a simple phrase or turn of the head or hand. They remind me of Ian McKellen who you know is amazing because he can say one line, so softly, and yet with so much power and depth that you want to be him. These two characters spoke volumes in their subtle and goofy comedy which I think shows the mark of a great actor. Yes, i did use the word, "goofy."
And as a sidenote, I've never said this in my LIFE about a movie or play, but the LIGHTING in Much Ado about Nothing was fantastic! Just the fact that I really noticed this may not go along with it, but I really was impressed. Great job! The guy doing the microphones really was crap though since it seemed the first three-four words that everyone spoke was 'off-mic' and then suddenly the sound would kick into gear and you could hear the actor. That happened too many times and was way distracting.
Okay, that was like a TON longer than I had meant it to be. The experience was fantastic and I really enjoyed myself very much. I think I will even go again in a few weeks if time permits. I recommend that everyone enjoy the experience of Shakespeare in the Park. The weather is perfect right now and the play is just so much fun to see. You won't regret it.
Friday, June 25, 2004
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Feel that? That's a trickle!
Reagan: Sacred in Death
I wasn't going to put down anything about Reagan -- I just wasn't interested. But then I was thinking that maybe I should, simply for the fact that when I have looked back on my journals from my days of yore, I have regretted not noting down important times, either in my life or in "history."
Unfortunately, I don't really have any good things to say about Reagan. Yes, I remember him and his charisma (he was an actor, for Christ's sake), but I also remember him for all the damage he did to me and my family. Picture this: A young girl living in poverty, being raised by her grandparents (earning Social Security and a paltry pension), with AFDC checks coming in and college looming in the future. Now think about Reagan and his mighty slashing sword of budget cuts. If I was a big shiny missile or a big fat millionaire, I would probably kneel down and worship the man. But for someone like me, who was terrified about not being able to go to college and for her grandparents whose combined salary was about 40% of what I'm earning now (and I don't make shit!), Reagan was evil.
I think there's something in our society of canonizing people after they die. No matter how awful they were, there's something so taboo about talking about anything negative. I guess I understand it, and yet....I don't. It seems so hypocritical. And let's face it, the dead person doesn't give a fuck. Funerals are for the living.
My own grandfather was an intriguing and charming man, but also in many ways, a horrible man. I won't get into all the details, you don't need to pity me any more, but there was a part of me that was relieved when he passed away. Do i think he loved me? Yes, I think so. But I don't think he liked me, and there really is a difference.
The interesting thing was his daughter, whom had really suffered from his actions during her life, has completely turned him into a saint since his death. She sometimes think he communicates with her, she's the only one who goes out to his grave (deep in the far desert, in a military grave), and once when someone showed me that site Find A Grave, I found she had already left her nauseatingly loving message for him.
Rude? Yes. I loved my grandfather, but I am adult now and I see things with different eyes.
I think when I die, I would rather have people talk about my good AND bad habits. I wasn't a saint in life, I don't need to be one in death.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Happy 4th of July!
"You gotta talk to the one who..."
So, I got this email from a friend -- there were free tickets to see Sheryl Crow live -- kind of. Down in Brooklyn, by the Fulton Ferry, with the skyline of Manhattan behind her, Ms. Crow was going to film her piece for Macy's 4th of July Special. I didn't think we could still get tickets, but we did! So me, and my two roommates, trudged off to Brooklyn. We were supposed to wear "festive wear" but what does that really mean? A red, white and blue tutu? I looked okay.
Once there we stood around FOREVER, and then were let in where a small stage was set up in front of the water. Nice. There were probably only about a 100 of us, and we had to crowd in close to the stage, standing the whole time. I wasn't as close as I'd have liked to be, but when she finally came out, another hour later, she was still fairly close (closer than almost every concert/play I've ever been to), and the group was small enough where you didn't feel like one in a jillion.
It was kind of surreal, to be at a "concert" while cameras were running past you, whizzing inches over your head, and hanging from cranes in a corner or two. A guy would basically instruct us to start clapping, and then she'd start in on her song "Light in Your Eyes." When the song was over, she'd shout out, "Happy Birthday, America!" or something of that sort. Admittedly, I'd never heard the song before, but I did really enjoy it. So, she'd begin, and then seconds after beginning....she'd stop. She had to fix her hair (blowing in her face), they wanted to fix her lipgloss, they had to change the guitar strap, etc. It was both interesting and frustrating at the same time to watch this all unfold, and then to hear the same song...over...and over.
She did have a nice break by singing a nice and slow version of "If it makes you happy." I don't think it'll make it to the show though. Then she started up with the "Light in Your Eyes" again. By this time, I had heard it enough times that I was mouthing the words along with her. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot one of those on-foot camera men, and he is RIGHT there, just off to my right, but pointing the camera my way. I knew that I shouldn't look directly into the camera, so I just continued to sing along and smile. Maybe I'll be on TV! Or, more realistically, maybe the really pretty girl in front of me will be on TV. That could very well be where he was aiming his camera. Oh well, I guess my hair will make it to the tiny screen.
Yes, it was fake, frustrating, and took a long time, but it was also interesting, fun, and kind of weird. Sheryl Crow sounded great too, something you always worry about when seeing an artist live. But her voice was clear and controlled (god, I sound like Simon Cowell). I enjoyed the experience, if anything. It's opportunities like this that just come up in NYC and is one of my favorite things about living here.
As my roommate says, "Stuff like this doesn't fall into your lap when you're in Peoria!" So true.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Shabbat Shalom
Last Friday night I went to a Shabbat dinner. For those of you who aren’t constantly immersed in “Jewishness” as I am, here’s a couple versions.
For those more seriously into The Sabbath (or Shabbat, as it is called in Hebrew) is one of the best known and least understood of all Jewish observances. People who do not observe Shabbat think of it as a day filled with stifling restrictions, or as a day of prayer like the Christian Sabbath. But to those who observe Shabbat, it is a precious gift from G-d, a day of great joy eagerly awaited throughout the week, a time when we can set aside all of our weekday concerns and devote ourselves to higher pursuits. In Jewish literature, poetry and music, Shabbat is described as a bride or queen, as in the popular Shabbat hymn Lecha Dodi Likrat Kallah (come, my beloved, to meet the [Sabbath] bride). It is said "more than Israel has kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept Israel." (from Judaism 101)
But basically, it’s a dinner, a typical religious ritual with candle lighting, chanting/singing, prayer, a little folklore, and of course, bread and wine! How I came to this dinner at a co-worker’s home, is a bit screwed up. As follows…
About a month before the dinner, a man here at work, quite a bit older, and rather…gruff by reputation…came over to my desk, leaned over, and asked if I would like to come to a Shabbat dinner at his home with him and his wife. He was also inviting some international “scholars” from a local organization who are here for a short time. Since the invitees included a Thai woman (and they all know here I was in Thailand for three years), he thought the connection might be fun for the both of us. Also, I was delighted to hear a man from the Philippines would also be there, as I have spent time (and a lot of study) on the country. The older man (let’s call him Joseph), was happy to hear that I also had a Philippines connection, said he’d send me an email with more information on time and place, and trudged off. I got the email and mentally noted the day and time (the day Harry Potter 3 came out).
As the weeks rolled by, Joseph never mentioned the dinner again, but I didn’t think too much of it. A day before the dinner, I started to think maybe he should have followed up at least once, said something. He wasn’t a warm and fuzzy guy, but… So, finally, on that Friday, as I passed him in the hallway, I stopped and said, “So, about your Shabbat dinner tonight…” hoping to prompt him into recognition/conversation. His eyebrows furrowed and he stared intently into my face (he’s a pretty intimidating guy). I backed up a step and tried to continue, “With the Thai woman…and the Filipino man….that’s tonight?” His eyebrows furrowed more still, and he said, “Yes…with the visiting scholars….” My mouth just hung open. He didn’t exactly say, “And not you!” but there was a feeling like he didn’t know what the hell I was getting at.
Back at my desk, I felt perplexed. I finally informed my co-workers of the situation. Reading my mind, they suggested I wander over to his office and ask if I could bring something. I felt intimidated, but knew it was the best plan. After a wait, I stood in his doorway, he in his chair, and asked. He turned slowly and looked at me. There was a pause. A loooooooooong pause. A very uncomfortable pause as he looked at me with such intensity, I began to feel extremely uncomfortable. Finally, not being able to take it any longer, I blurted out, “WHAT?” He leaned forward, holding onto the doorknob and leaning forward ‘til his forehead rested against the door, as if in deep sorrow. “WHAT?” I said again. In….a…..very……slow…..manner, he began to tell me that he totally forgot about me, doesn’t think he ever told his wife (who is preparing the meal) that I’m coming, doesn’t think there’s enough spaces at the table, etc.).
Needless, to say, I was horrified and a little humiliated. I think the whole drama of the situation made it a lot worse. If it was like “Oh my gosh, oops, let me call my wife, I might have overbooked the dinner…” it still would have been awkward, but less so. Anyway, he calls his wife, and from my desk, I can HEAR him saying into the phone, “Oh, and she asked me what to bring, and I totally forgot…” just furthering my humiliation. Apparently though, after hanging up with his wife, who told him he was an idiot and that she did know all along I was coming, he came over and told me I could bring flowers.
Hrmph.
I have to admit, I was really looking forward to going to this dinner. I like to try out new things, especially if they are of a country/culture I’m not entirely familiar with. I have gained some knowledge of Jewish culture in the past (due to a long-term relationship with a Jewish man), but I had never been to a Shabbat meal.
Yet, after this incident, I found my exuberance dramatically deflated. And since I also had tickets for Harry Potter that night (opening night), and was going to be cutting it close anyway, I kind of wished the whole dinner could just go away. Naturally, it didn’t, I went home and showered, and then showed up.
The dinner itself was lovely. The house, though smaller, reminded me of all the professors’ homes I saw in my past life, with their walls of books and “exotic” artifacts on walls and shelves. I got to meet some very interesting people who were doing good, grassroots work on HIV/AIDS in Brooklyn/Bronx, Thailand, and the Philippines as well as this fantastic woman who headed an Adolescent health program in New York.
Joseph’s wife was a very nice lady who explained each step of the dinner as it went along, including covering her head, covering her eyes (with her hands), covering the bread (so it won’t be jealous of the wine we drunk), the explanation of the wine and bread prayers, the translation (from Hebrew) of the song they sang, etc. as well as an interesting tale of angels outside the window peeking in….
As the story goes…(paraphrasing) a “good angel” and a “bad angel” will come to the window at sunset, during the Shabbat dinner. If the family is together and harmonious and having their special dinner, the good angel will turn to the bad angel and say, “May Shabbat always be like this” and the bad angel is then forced to say, “Amen” (and so in a sense, letting it be so). On the other hand, if the family is NOT having their dinner, fighting, not around, etc., then the bad angel will say, “May Shabbat always be like this,” and the good angel will grudgingly have to reply, “Amen.”
I like that story.
After an enjoyable meal and a very long, but very interesting discussion on the work they were all doing, I found myself stealing furtive glances at my watch. Opening night in the giant Astor Theater meant standing in line about an hour early. Lucky for me, I had a friend to stand in line for me, but I also didn’t want to be late for the movie itself! The dinner continued, and continued to be interesting, though I felt myself growing fidgety. And, there was one problem – I had come in a floor-length floral dress and heels. I really didn’t want to sit for three hours in a theater with that thing on. I had brought jeans and a shirt in my bag, but didn’t know how inappropriate it may be to change in their bathroom so I could “go out” that night. Finally, after about 2 ½ hours at the dinner, and still no one looking like they were going to leave, I got up and whispered in the hostess’ ear that I was sorry but I had plans for later in the evening and would have to go, could I use her bathroom, etc. “You’re leaving already?” she exclaimed. *gulp* She was gracious enough though and I scampered to the bathroom, which, I am NOT joking, was the size of an airplane bathroom, and performed acrobatics as I got undressed/dressed. I think everyone was a bit surprised when I came out like that. I apologized again and left.
After that it got pretty simple, I was hurrying down the street while talking to my friend on the phone, and then I got to the subway, so the phone cut out. He said they would be letting him in soon (along with my ticket), so I was a bit nervous. After an endless train ride, I made it to Times Square where I was literally sprinting down the street while trying to talk on the phone. I got there and it all worked out (though it took me quite awhile to cool down and I wasn’t so cute when I got there).
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – Quickie Review, sort of (spoiler alert)
The movie was great, a nice twist in the way it was made, darker and more real. And of course, Lupin being my favorite Harry Potter character, I was anxious and excited to see him. David Thewlis was fantastic as the tragic character, great casting (as is the entire movie, save maybe for the guy who plays Peter Peddigrew). Now that the books are longer and we already are invested in other great characters (like Snape), it’s hard to not get everything you want in it. My only complaint of the third film is that it didn’t explain enough. The whole deal with Harry’s father and three friends (Peddigrew, Lupin, Black) is probably the most important part of the third book and yet was mysteriously omitted from the film. You learn that Lupin is a werewolf, but you don’t hear the whole background between the “Animagus” of the other three characters nor of why Harry is conjuring up a stag to protect himself, or, a little less importantly, the origin of the sneaky map. But I really like the style of the new director (Cuaron) and am excited for the next movie. Maybe I’ll see this one again.
Tortured Lupin
For those more seriously into The Sabbath (or Shabbat, as it is called in Hebrew) is one of the best known and least understood of all Jewish observances. People who do not observe Shabbat think of it as a day filled with stifling restrictions, or as a day of prayer like the Christian Sabbath. But to those who observe Shabbat, it is a precious gift from G-d, a day of great joy eagerly awaited throughout the week, a time when we can set aside all of our weekday concerns and devote ourselves to higher pursuits. In Jewish literature, poetry and music, Shabbat is described as a bride or queen, as in the popular Shabbat hymn Lecha Dodi Likrat Kallah (come, my beloved, to meet the [Sabbath] bride). It is said "more than Israel has kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept Israel." (from Judaism 101)
But basically, it’s a dinner, a typical religious ritual with candle lighting, chanting/singing, prayer, a little folklore, and of course, bread and wine! How I came to this dinner at a co-worker’s home, is a bit screwed up. As follows…
About a month before the dinner, a man here at work, quite a bit older, and rather…gruff by reputation…came over to my desk, leaned over, and asked if I would like to come to a Shabbat dinner at his home with him and his wife. He was also inviting some international “scholars” from a local organization who are here for a short time. Since the invitees included a Thai woman (and they all know here I was in Thailand for three years), he thought the connection might be fun for the both of us. Also, I was delighted to hear a man from the Philippines would also be there, as I have spent time (and a lot of study) on the country. The older man (let’s call him Joseph), was happy to hear that I also had a Philippines connection, said he’d send me an email with more information on time and place, and trudged off. I got the email and mentally noted the day and time (the day Harry Potter 3 came out).
As the weeks rolled by, Joseph never mentioned the dinner again, but I didn’t think too much of it. A day before the dinner, I started to think maybe he should have followed up at least once, said something. He wasn’t a warm and fuzzy guy, but… So, finally, on that Friday, as I passed him in the hallway, I stopped and said, “So, about your Shabbat dinner tonight…” hoping to prompt him into recognition/conversation. His eyebrows furrowed and he stared intently into my face (he’s a pretty intimidating guy). I backed up a step and tried to continue, “With the Thai woman…and the Filipino man….that’s tonight?” His eyebrows furrowed more still, and he said, “Yes…with the visiting scholars….” My mouth just hung open. He didn’t exactly say, “And not you!” but there was a feeling like he didn’t know what the hell I was getting at.
Back at my desk, I felt perplexed. I finally informed my co-workers of the situation. Reading my mind, they suggested I wander over to his office and ask if I could bring something. I felt intimidated, but knew it was the best plan. After a wait, I stood in his doorway, he in his chair, and asked. He turned slowly and looked at me. There was a pause. A loooooooooong pause. A very uncomfortable pause as he looked at me with such intensity, I began to feel extremely uncomfortable. Finally, not being able to take it any longer, I blurted out, “WHAT?” He leaned forward, holding onto the doorknob and leaning forward ‘til his forehead rested against the door, as if in deep sorrow. “WHAT?” I said again. In….a…..very……slow…..manner, he began to tell me that he totally forgot about me, doesn’t think he ever told his wife (who is preparing the meal) that I’m coming, doesn’t think there’s enough spaces at the table, etc.).
Needless, to say, I was horrified and a little humiliated. I think the whole drama of the situation made it a lot worse. If it was like “Oh my gosh, oops, let me call my wife, I might have overbooked the dinner…” it still would have been awkward, but less so. Anyway, he calls his wife, and from my desk, I can HEAR him saying into the phone, “Oh, and she asked me what to bring, and I totally forgot…” just furthering my humiliation. Apparently though, after hanging up with his wife, who told him he was an idiot and that she did know all along I was coming, he came over and told me I could bring flowers.
Hrmph.
I have to admit, I was really looking forward to going to this dinner. I like to try out new things, especially if they are of a country/culture I’m not entirely familiar with. I have gained some knowledge of Jewish culture in the past (due to a long-term relationship with a Jewish man), but I had never been to a Shabbat meal.
Yet, after this incident, I found my exuberance dramatically deflated. And since I also had tickets for Harry Potter that night (opening night), and was going to be cutting it close anyway, I kind of wished the whole dinner could just go away. Naturally, it didn’t, I went home and showered, and then showed up.
The dinner itself was lovely. The house, though smaller, reminded me of all the professors’ homes I saw in my past life, with their walls of books and “exotic” artifacts on walls and shelves. I got to meet some very interesting people who were doing good, grassroots work on HIV/AIDS in Brooklyn/Bronx, Thailand, and the Philippines as well as this fantastic woman who headed an Adolescent health program in New York.
Joseph’s wife was a very nice lady who explained each step of the dinner as it went along, including covering her head, covering her eyes (with her hands), covering the bread (so it won’t be jealous of the wine we drunk), the explanation of the wine and bread prayers, the translation (from Hebrew) of the song they sang, etc. as well as an interesting tale of angels outside the window peeking in….
As the story goes…(paraphrasing) a “good angel” and a “bad angel” will come to the window at sunset, during the Shabbat dinner. If the family is together and harmonious and having their special dinner, the good angel will turn to the bad angel and say, “May Shabbat always be like this” and the bad angel is then forced to say, “Amen” (and so in a sense, letting it be so). On the other hand, if the family is NOT having their dinner, fighting, not around, etc., then the bad angel will say, “May Shabbat always be like this,” and the good angel will grudgingly have to reply, “Amen.”
I like that story.
After an enjoyable meal and a very long, but very interesting discussion on the work they were all doing, I found myself stealing furtive glances at my watch. Opening night in the giant Astor Theater meant standing in line about an hour early. Lucky for me, I had a friend to stand in line for me, but I also didn’t want to be late for the movie itself! The dinner continued, and continued to be interesting, though I felt myself growing fidgety. And, there was one problem – I had come in a floor-length floral dress and heels. I really didn’t want to sit for three hours in a theater with that thing on. I had brought jeans and a shirt in my bag, but didn’t know how inappropriate it may be to change in their bathroom so I could “go out” that night. Finally, after about 2 ½ hours at the dinner, and still no one looking like they were going to leave, I got up and whispered in the hostess’ ear that I was sorry but I had plans for later in the evening and would have to go, could I use her bathroom, etc. “You’re leaving already?” she exclaimed. *gulp* She was gracious enough though and I scampered to the bathroom, which, I am NOT joking, was the size of an airplane bathroom, and performed acrobatics as I got undressed/dressed. I think everyone was a bit surprised when I came out like that. I apologized again and left.
After that it got pretty simple, I was hurrying down the street while talking to my friend on the phone, and then I got to the subway, so the phone cut out. He said they would be letting him in soon (along with my ticket), so I was a bit nervous. After an endless train ride, I made it to Times Square where I was literally sprinting down the street while trying to talk on the phone. I got there and it all worked out (though it took me quite awhile to cool down and I wasn’t so cute when I got there).
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – Quickie Review, sort of (spoiler alert)
The movie was great, a nice twist in the way it was made, darker and more real. And of course, Lupin being my favorite Harry Potter character, I was anxious and excited to see him. David Thewlis was fantastic as the tragic character, great casting (as is the entire movie, save maybe for the guy who plays Peter Peddigrew). Now that the books are longer and we already are invested in other great characters (like Snape), it’s hard to not get everything you want in it. My only complaint of the third film is that it didn’t explain enough. The whole deal with Harry’s father and three friends (Peddigrew, Lupin, Black) is probably the most important part of the third book and yet was mysteriously omitted from the film. You learn that Lupin is a werewolf, but you don’t hear the whole background between the “Animagus” of the other three characters nor of why Harry is conjuring up a stag to protect himself, or, a little less importantly, the origin of the sneaky map. But I really like the style of the new director (Cuaron) and am excited for the next movie. Maybe I’ll see this one again.
Tortured Lupin
Oh Mangosteen, Oh Mangosteen
My ode to the Mangosteen.
This is my Ode to the Mangosteen (perhaps I'll write a short accompanying poem later). I like to oil paint, though I suck at it. I've decided to do a themed series -- Foods of Fantasy. I am a great GREAT lover of food in all forms (from fresh fruits/vegetables to the most processed, sugary, salty crap you can put in your body). I have already painted an artichoke, which I am kind of proud of. I'm not as proud of this mangosteen, but I'm posting it anyway, because just the fact that I can FINISH a painting is kind of a big deal. I think I have more unfinished than finished. The reasons behind that stem from laziness, to a need for a perfection that will never come, to boredom, to not having the cash for the ridiculously RIDICULOUSLY expensive art supplies.
I haven't written here for awhile. As I've said before, I tend to write in bursts. I also have another submission due in a week to my writing class and I haven't even started it. Hopefully today, since work is pretty slow and dead, I can sneak on a blog. In the meantime, I better go work.
Man, I have this overwhelming need to get bombed. It's only 10:30 in the morning.
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