Here we are, watching the Sopranos. We're onto the third season now! Getting there. Five seasons to go! Otherwise, same old same old.
Mitch and I are now engaged to be married.
Otherwise, you know, nothing new. :)
In case you're all wondering how he did it, because I know you are, here's a vague recount (because it's largely a happy blur; specific details now escape me): I got back from the library, working on an religion paper, and when I got through the door, he hugged me and told me he went somewhere today. Which I knew meant he bought the ring we'd looked at earlier this fall. So we hugged and smiled and then I had to pee, so I did. I got out and found myself unable to go over to the bed, where he was waiting; I was too excited. So he picked me up, plopped me down, and did it.
IT. IS. AMAZING.
So here I am, drinking my 10 P.M. cocoa and watching the Sopranos. I'm greatly anticipating my meeting with Kristen tomorrow; I get to speak for her. Mostly to stay in practice, but also because Kristen is awesome. I also have Scholar Citizen tomorrow, which is rare for a Friday. Crockett usually gives us Friday off since we have a theater lab every Monday; but because we missed last Wednesday's class due to the National Honors Convention, we're making it up tomorrow. Which is fine. I don't have voice lessons, so I won't be any more swamped than usual.
Mitch said he's taking me to Bucca tomorrow. Downtown, squeezed into a basement; that's the best way to eat. Our staple dish is chicken saltimbocca.
I ate WAY too much candy at work today. When I arrived = full jar of chocolate. When I left = jar of no chocolate. So now I really want to munch on the candy Mom sent me, but I have no stomach for it. That doesn't mean that I won't eat a ton tomorrow. Because I will. A ton.
I finished my religion paper at a decent time tonight, but I'm going to check in with someone tomorrow on the format of the essay. Quanbeck asked for something different than usual, and I want to be extra sure I'm doing it correctly. I'd hate to have points docked due to silly mistakes.
I don't care how old or how deranged he is, Tony Soprano is a sexy man.
You know, there's a special breed of person that has the ability to recognize a musical orgasm. I have them all the time. Whenever I hear a particular chord from a particular song from a particular area of music (soundtracks, Motion City)...BAM! Orgasm. Except when this happens, it's not called an orgasm anymore. It's a joygasm.
Remember this, grasshopper. Remember this and live well.
I rented Babel from the library; I'll be the first to admit I haven't seen the movie yet. I had a wonderful chat with the woman from the reference desk; we talked about The Departed, the Sopranos, and the new Guthrie and its terrible parking setup. She guessed I was a theater major, but when I corrected her with communications, she said she understood; they're essentially the same idea. And only essentially. Get your point across.
It's almost time for bed, and the Sopranos is not done. Uh oh! Looks like we'll be up a little later than usual. But that's to be expected on this night. THIS night, we'll have lots to discuss.
I can't wait until Sara gets here! I still haven't decided our major plans, but I was waiting for the weekend to choose anyway. I'll have a freer mind. I plan on doing some rough drafts of both my Scholar Citizen and communications essays before she comes.
I took some pretty good pictures of the International Week Spanish booth today. I also got free Spanish candy. I still haven't seen Quinn this week; I have to get those CDs so my first batch of photographs for Homemade can be published.
Well, here I go. We're going to cuddle.
Candy and parties, all fineness.