I discovered today that my internet exploits are being shared with a certain body of undergraduates at an institution of higher education that I fondly recall. Well, if y'all want to listen to these ramblings, you are more than welcome to them! Here's a tidbit that excites me: today I shared a milkshake with an adorable gentleman to whom I have alluded in recent posts. For some reason, I forgot the word milkshake for several hours thereafter and couldn't figure out why "ice cream shake" sounded unnecessarily awkward and inaccurate. This linguistic limitation passed, however, and the word I am now futilely seeking is an appropriate secret code name for the gentleman in question. Those who have met him are welcome to propose options.
I believe that my personal "worst movie of all time" has been supplanted. I can't even recall what it was, but it has been replaced by Death Bed: The Bed That Eats. A gem of a catastrophe, Death Bed sparkles with gratuitous female nudity, yellow foam repeatedly erupting from an innocuous-though-disastrously-70s four-poster bed, fake blood that resembles red paint to a startling degree, and an inexplicable consumptive ghost narrator who lives in a painting and steals gaudy jewelry from the dead. Plus there's a scene where a woman's head gets sawed off with the chain of her crucifix. It makes less sense than I am conveying. The highlight may have been a character who--The Mysterious X and I agreed--looked just like whats her face.
Tomorrow is an important day, so I must now to bed. In 5.5 hours I will be out on the street, holding up No on 8 signs to make sure well-intentioned people don't turn into complete morons in a week. Then I have the first lecture in the guest lecture series I'm organizing. Between those I may be seeing the aforementioned gentleman. Or after those. Or both. I am more excited about this than perhaps I should be, but dammit I deserve this excitement. I shared a milkshake!