I'm a doctor, not a bricklayer!

[walkingshadow]

Here's a list of things I jotted down to do this weekend:

laundry
clean your room
Neuro Powerpoint
research the research paper
registration
thesis
APPLICATIONS
think tank?
call home for money

Can you guess which task I tackled first? If you picked something off the list, well—welcome to the show. I've spent the weekend making a scarf for S. (the other day, walking home from the gym, we were talking about what it was going to be like in New York next semester (she's interning in New York next semester, the lucky bitch) and out of the blue I blurted, "would you like me to make you a scarf?" and after a minute of blinking, she said "sure!"). The scarf is going to be hideous; the workmanship (single-crochet all the way up, because it's fast and tight) is perfectly adequate; the colors are royal blue, hot orange, and lemon. gjstruthseeker keeps staring at it and muttering "garish" while she shakes her head in disbelief. I told her that if I ever expressed a desire to wear anything in those colors, she should shoot me. Next up is a scarf for gjstruthseeker herself, in multicolored yarn, green, cream, and purple. I've seen hand-made things on people's wish lists and apparently I'm in the mood, so if anyone wants to get in line, drop a comment.

Thursday was roommate night, but N. was writing a paper and Jules was working feverishly on her website, so after we all had sushi (delivered to our door), it was just me and S. watching The Core for her geology class. It was just as bad, as hilariously bad, as it was the first time when gjstruthseeker and I saw it in the theater. We had the same immediate thought to recast it as Lord of the Rings, too.

And then a cold front came, HUZZAH. Friday night, after the website was delivered and our weeks were over, Jules and I donned our scarves and headed out to Bridgit Jones. I can't stand watching other people be embarrassed; I spent a lot of time cringing. Colin Firth is wonderful; Hugh Grant keeps looking better and better and should never be allowed to get plastic surgery. Those crow's feet are the best thing he has going for him.

We saw Closer on Saturday night, along with a girl Jules had been swapping Journalism notes with in Starbucks. We saw the play here at the Hippodrome three years ago; I quite like this adaptation, with a huge thumbs-up to the casting. Clive Owen is one of those men I just want to climb like a tree. Also, I would give quite a lot to watch Clive Owen and Jude Law make out.

S. and I made it out for errands today, and that's pretty much all I've accomplished. That and fifteen feet of gaudy scarf.

Welcome to the land of the short sentences. Did I say I was going to post every day? Not out loud, I hope.

Comments

[sweet-dichotomy.livejournal.com]

did you mean clive owen? because his teeth seemes so ill-suited to his face, all white and glowing from the midst of this dark stubble, that it ruined any fantasies about him and jude law making out. :)

alison

the flick was pretty good though.

[walkingshadow.livejournal.com]

Um, yes, I did mean Clive Owen. I almost typed it wrong again just now, so I don't know if I can even pretend it was four a.m. talking. I first saw him in a PBS miniseries called Second Sight and thought pretty; I don't remember seeing his teeth much then, and yeah, they threw me off a bit too—plus he can muster up a pretty insipid smile when he wants to. But that scene in his office could have gone on forever as far as I was concerned.