It's Meg Ryan's birthday. Can we all just take a moment to thank this woman for bringing Kathleen Kelly to life? I can't be the only person who crawls under the covers and watches You've Got Mail whenever my painstaking attempts to micromanage the next 10 years of my life explode in my face. Part of me wants to throw everything out the window and move to Manhattan and work at a doomed bookstore just so some online stranger can tell me, "Don't cry, Shopgirl." /bawling
Ryan Cabrera used to be relevant. Remember his YuGiOh hair? His sentimental-without-actually-saying-anything songs? I sure hadn't. Like, for a good six years, I'd forgotten that this guy had ever existed. So hearing "On The Way Down" and "True" brought back a whole lot of memories.. mostly of stressing out over what a boutonniere was and avoiding my biology leaf project. And of failing to realize that Laguna Beach was a TV show, not a retail offshoot of Abercrombie and Fitch until my hopes of being remotely cool vanished into thin air. Thanks for the memoriez, Ryan.
I don't know what I'm doing with my life. Obvi.
This Stephen King book isn't getting any better. In the spirit of JFK Day, which is this city's bizarrely laid-back name for the 50th anniversary of the president's assassination, I thought it would be appropriate to read Stevie K's novel about going back in time to save Kennedy. Shockingly enough, the first half of the book was about fun times in Derry (fun times in Derry today! Derry!). After 350 pages of thoroughly enjoyable "It" references , it felt like some passionless editor reminded Stevie K, "Hey, this book is supposed to take place in Dallas. And it should probably include Lee Harvey Oswald. Maybe throw in a generic love interest for good measure. Have people say 'Hun,' a lot." Don't listen to them, Stevie! Listen to your heart, and if your heart tells you to ditch the historically appropriate premise and bring us back to Derry for the billionth time, just do it. I WANNA SEE YOU BE BRAVE.
Tears of joy: there are two flavors of ice cream in my freezer. Not one, but two flavors. Few other things in life bring such tidings of comfort and joy. In this case, "comfort" is spelled "Spiced Apple Pie" (or what I refer to as apple pice cream) and "joy" is spelled "Mint Chocolate Cookie Crumble," and both go extremely well with chocolate syrup. I kid you not, these two tubs of ice cream are currently the highlight of my existence. If there's more to life than this, I'm not interested.
Nature is breathtaking, too, I guess. After a hellish two weeks that drained pretty much all of my will to live, Ernesto and I went camping in Oklahoma. This inferior blog gives a pretty decent recap of our adventure, though none of the pictures do a great job of capturing the number of alcohol swabs from our first aid kit Ernesto used to start our fire. Our outdoorsy incompetencies aside, the trip was a welcome reminder that the earth is a gem.
