My posts are few and far between, but at least this time around my excuse isn’t that I have been drinking too much but that I have been spending all of my time preparing for what we in the grad school biz call a prelim (aka the p word, hell, a public form of hazing and harassment). It really should be illegal.
Ok moving on, last night after working all day and forcing my bff and essential domestic partner here in Durham to make dinner for me we watched a movie (good little grad students). We have been wanting to see burlesque since it came out and I’m not too sad we had to wait. It was a depressing mesh of bad writing, bad acting and actually an impressive cast list. Stanley Tucci for instance really made the show bearable to watch, he is hilarious. The movie included plenty of eye candy including McSteamy (Eric Dane) and Cam Gigandet who really would have been better on mute (and for the guys, xtina was sin bra 90% of the time). Cher, oh Cher, I will refrain from making comments about her because she is fabulous even if she lacks moving parts on her face anymore.
Sooo surprise, surprise the small town girl made it in LA and saved the burlesque club (as if it were an inner city after school program for homeless amputee kids). Three things made the movie night a success A) perfect idea for the next theme party we throw aka our joint bday party. B) we had a lot of really good wine and some amazing dark chocolate. 3) the costumes, singing, and dancing were amazing! (well the dancing was amazing until they toned it down for xtina whose best dance move is apparently the “self molestation”.) oh and 4) sunday morning wasn’t a mix of oversleeping and agonizing over what my life had become (aka friday morning after st. patty’s day)
Seriously I’m gonna sign up for that pole dancing class next week and go shopping for new outfits, where can i find this all pearl ensemble?!
Its no surprise that E and I were drooling at the combination of red stripes shirts, white glitter leotards and fake eyelashes to the sky. Sigh, too bad that when we go out we already get asked what the special occasion is. Seriously, its Friday night at a bar and I’m wearing a black skirt with tights and people are confused? What would happen if I threw in a sequin leotard?!
Back to work, because instead of my life being glitter and dancing I have chosen self inflicted pain. unfair.