a day at chez ryan

9:52 p.m. x 2004-01-26

thanks to today's gaping lack of scholastic activity (read: SNOOOW DAAAY), clare, ryan and i trekked about in the perilous cold, eventually making it to the comfort of ryan's living room where there were numerous cats and theatrical posters (and lest we forget TONY DANZA???). i was riveted, and my time was certainly better spent violating one of my best friends in the privacy of his living room than listening to sweater-man, the dasdardly villain my that even my mother can't stand.

she freaked when she learned he taught one of my classes. "oh my," she thinks "you've flipped" - i haven't had a class of his since seventh grade, i'd assumed he'd, i don't know...relaxed? i assumed wrong.

but oh well (hey everybody look at my livejournal!).

is it wrong that i'm really liking la twigs nouveau? granted he was the most charismatic thing in marilyn manson (sorry hughey, senor warner's still the most, erm, intruiging), i have an overwhelming fetish for preppy men. it's that irresistable catholic school boy aethetic, mmmm...*le sigh*, looking at that brings me back to a strange but oddly enjoyed time. specifically to an evening at my aunt's where manda and i stayed up shoving a self-sabatoging vhs into a disabled vcr in order to spend many zombie-fied hours watching "demystifying the devil", oogling, snickering, and bursting into fits of hysteria at the phrase "VANILLA MILKSHAKE!".

...*repressed giggles*...

if anybody should ask i'm going to a seminar
pieces of the moon
JOBJOBJOB
interviewinterviewinterview
sensitive heart, you're doomed from the start
(& etc)

anybody can be just like me, obviously.
not too many can be like you, fortunately.
KL 02-11