Thirsty Thursday

Juuuust hanging out in the room I share with my Dad, watching the Sox on mute. Thankfully, he’s not snoring.

Nothing else more to report other than I’m full from too much ice cream. And I’m really excited that the Socialist beaches herself on US shores so soon.

Speaking of long-distance relationships, my boyfriend and I have reached a new low point, or rather, I have. Tonight, I drew a star on my hand, and convinced him over grainy Skype video that I’d gotten a tatoo. He believed me and got a little upset. So yeah…long-distance relationships are so exciting…

Of course, I didn’t draw that star on my hand with this in mind. I did it this morning, in improv class, while contemplating how much I will never be Amy P or Tina Fey. But when Will asked me what was on my hand, I couldn’t resist. He spent twenty minutes totally not believing me, calling me a liar, laughing in my face, but finally I broke him down. I explained that it was super tiny, that I got it with a friend on Tuesday night, that it was an impulse and not a big deal, since it was so small. It was cute! It was fun! It was so not like me, and thus cool! He showed a hint of a grimace. He looked sort of annoyed. He couldn’t believe I didn’t tell him for two days. I had won. Score!!!!! 

Now I’m worried that he’s going to get me back my telling me he has the swine flu or scurvy or lost a limb or something. In my defense he’s been very sick and went to a concert two nights ago with a 102 degree fever, so I deserve to make him feel bad for a change.

ANYHOW

plans for this weekend involve a guilty pleasure screening of “Whip It” (totally crushing on Drew lately)

and also, “An Education.” I have three auditions, an improv show, and some Hedda Gabbler rehearsing. Fun times.

Lastly, my Dad’s words of wisdom on the whole Letterman affair, at dinner tonight:

“I mean….these women are in their thirties! How old do you think that cupcake was supposed to be in those Braveheart movies? Seventeen? Give me a break.”

Clearly, the man is on D. Letterman’s side. I semi-agree, though he’s still creepy. (My Dad, and Letterman.) And I probably wouldn’t invoke a Mel Gibson film for my defense.