I don't deserve to be awake right now. I'm tired, I drank a lot, my tummy wants food, and I can't sleep.
But all I have is cheesecake right now.
It's like I keep accidentally spoiling myself rotten, and I'm not particularly pleased with it, but if it were any other way I'd feel like I was missing out.
Is this what being in your 20s is all about?
A little snippet of Kenneth 'cause this is my mood right now:
from "To My Twenties"
Kenneth do you have a minute?
And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
I have plenty of time! In you I marry,
In you I first go to France; I make my best friends
In you, and a few enemies. I
Write a lot and am living all the time
And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you
After my teens and before my thirties.
You three together in a bar
I always preferred you because you were midmost
Most lustrous apparently strongest
Although now that I look back on you
What part have you played?
My roommate just said "Congratuacheesecake." I suppose I deserve that.
After my roommate said that, and I typed that, I started watching light reflecting off of my hair in the glare of my laptop.
I don't like looking at exclamation points when I'm tired and hungover.
Such as like, this pains me:
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is what I say when I see that:
"OMG STOP JUMPING ON THAT DAMN TRAMPOLINE AND SCREAMING ABOUT SEX YOU DAMN KIDS."
but really? There's no trampoline - there's just lines and dots, okay? Lines and dots. Chew that one up and digest it. MFin' lines and dots.
Maybe I need to start knowing more intrepid young adventurers.
To fill you in on what just happened: I wrote the above sentence, looked at it disgruntled, and then wandered into the kitchen and ate a leftover half-piece of cheesecake. Matt and I know what we're doing with that cheesecake. Congratuacheesecake, everyone.
So I ate that, then I watched this girl wandering around outside of our neighboring apartment builiding. The building is about 20 feet away from our kitchen window so too many private experiences are shared. But she was wandering around with her white comforter over her head and obviously unsure of what she should be doing with it. Get your shit together, I said to her through the window. What are you doing with it? You're wandering back and forth. You're a mess, and EVERYONE is watching you. Everybody knows that you're just wandering around with a fluffy comforter over your head, probably hung-0ver. I wasn't sure if she was going to go picnic and lie down on it,or if she was throwing it in the dumpster. Eventually she flung it over what's left of an old laundry line, clumsily and sadly. Then she kept peeking under it, maybe to check for tiny monsters.
Gretchen: "Oh! she must be German."
Theresa: "Because she needs to figure her shit out?"
Gretchen: "No, Germans air out their comforters a lot."
See, I guess that makes sense.
I'm just crotchety and over-stimulated. If I can't handle someone airing out their comforter, I don't think I could handle intrepid young adventurers. At least not yet.
Queueueueueueueueueueueueueue - interesting point, eh?
Janet, who I'm talking with over the World Wide Web, just said this:
mmmm No, but I don't live with any Brits so our food is generally "international"
I believe she might be right.
It's amazing how many things I can do within one blog post:
-Berate neighbors
-Eat cheesecake
-Bitch about exclamation points
-Bitch about British cuisine
-Talk to a friend in another country
-Talk to two roommates
-Take headache medicine
-Half-heartedly wash a few dishes
-Read Kenneth Koch
-Feel hungry
Well I'd say this about wraps up this episode of "The Ornery Ponderings of HangOverVille: Theresa Blogs Instead of Sleeps." I've had a wonderful time, and I hope you have too. See you next week!
No comments:
Post a Comment