Everyone should see this movie. Very sweet, poignant and intelligent. Plus, I heart Micahel Cera. He's made gawky and akward an art form.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The view is pretty sweet from my soap box...
I've gone back and forth about responding to a comment that was made on my "book club pic" blog... hemmed and hawed (Is that even how you spell "hawed"?), opened my blog spot account, closed it again, clicked open the comments, minimized them again...
But I have to respond. Because there aren't all that many things in life that push my very passive and typically neutral (call me Switzerland!) buttons, but judgement against the so-called "chic lit" genre is one of them. (Along with the general lack of common curtesy today, Randy Jackson's lame critiques on American Idol, and when anyone tries to pick a fight with my little sister.)
I guess my defense is not against criticism of the genre itself, more against the perception that those who read that genre are flighty and even shallow. I mean, I've poked fun at my "shallow" literary interests in the past, but am just now realizing that perhaps I've been taken more seriously then I intended.
There is something sweet and undeniably optimistic about this genre. It is relatable. It's a cathartic for the typical harassed and disillusioned 20-something female. She works in a mundane office job, paying off her stupidly high student loans, wears ann taylor loft suits and uncomfortable high heels and gets tipsy off a second margarita. Sometimes she's happily married, other times she single and waiting. In the versions I tend to read, she's a Christ follower.
But she's also crazy smart. She's reading isn't she? She's not watching "Sex and City" marathons (not that there's anything wrong with that), or surfing facebook every waking minute. She's reading. She's using her imagination and she's expanding her mind.
In my defense, I've read other books. Lots of them. Bronte, Karoac, Chaucer, Shakespear, Hemmingway, Steinbach, Twain, JR Tolkien, CS Lewis and every Austen at least three or four times through. I've read Harry Potter so many times that I can quote it to the annoyance of all my friends and family. I've read Oates, Picoult, Cornwell, King, Crighton, Wells, Higgens Clark, Sparks and Clancy.
But I've also read Siri Mitchell. And Sophie Kinsella, Lori Wick, Meg Cabot, Susan May Warren, Emily Giffin, Janette Oke, Deanne Gist, Jennifer Weiner and Dee Henderson. And some of them have pink on the covers, but some don't.
I went through a period where all I read was gore and murder mysteries (now I can barely stomach the thought, but there you have it. It was also during this time that I wanted to be a Crime scene investigator, and for the record, it was before it become trendy to be so.) I went through a period where all I read were historical prarie romances. Then I became crazy for the classics for a few years. Until I made my attempt at "War and Peace". That killed it for me. And if that makes me shallow, so be it.
Now I like it all.
But I love love LOVE chic lit. And I realize that some chic lit is better then others. Some is, shall we say, more meaty. And THAT is why I've started my "book club" because I've read so much that I am able to weed out some authors that are better then others.
To be a writer, you must read everything. And that means everything. Even hunting magazines and political biographies. And I do. So thank you "anonymous" for your suggestion. I am sorry that I wasn't more clear on my interests. I appreciate your comment, because it made me think. It caused me to become more accountable as I am preparing to make my own attempts at the literary world. But just so you know, I am aware that there is more then just chic lit out there. :)
Okay, I'm jumping off the box, now.
But I have to respond. Because there aren't all that many things in life that push my very passive and typically neutral (call me Switzerland!) buttons, but judgement against the so-called "chic lit" genre is one of them. (Along with the general lack of common curtesy today, Randy Jackson's lame critiques on American Idol, and when anyone tries to pick a fight with my little sister.)
I guess my defense is not against criticism of the genre itself, more against the perception that those who read that genre are flighty and even shallow. I mean, I've poked fun at my "shallow" literary interests in the past, but am just now realizing that perhaps I've been taken more seriously then I intended.
There is something sweet and undeniably optimistic about this genre. It is relatable. It's a cathartic for the typical harassed and disillusioned 20-something female. She works in a mundane office job, paying off her stupidly high student loans, wears ann taylor loft suits and uncomfortable high heels and gets tipsy off a second margarita. Sometimes she's happily married, other times she single and waiting. In the versions I tend to read, she's a Christ follower.
But she's also crazy smart. She's reading isn't she? She's not watching "Sex and City" marathons (not that there's anything wrong with that), or surfing facebook every waking minute. She's reading. She's using her imagination and she's expanding her mind.
In my defense, I've read other books. Lots of them. Bronte, Karoac, Chaucer, Shakespear, Hemmingway, Steinbach, Twain, JR Tolkien, CS Lewis and every Austen at least three or four times through. I've read Harry Potter so many times that I can quote it to the annoyance of all my friends and family. I've read Oates, Picoult, Cornwell, King, Crighton, Wells, Higgens Clark, Sparks and Clancy.
But I've also read Siri Mitchell. And Sophie Kinsella, Lori Wick, Meg Cabot, Susan May Warren, Emily Giffin, Janette Oke, Deanne Gist, Jennifer Weiner and Dee Henderson. And some of them have pink on the covers, but some don't.
I went through a period where all I read was gore and murder mysteries (now I can barely stomach the thought, but there you have it. It was also during this time that I wanted to be a Crime scene investigator, and for the record, it was before it become trendy to be so.) I went through a period where all I read were historical prarie romances. Then I became crazy for the classics for a few years. Until I made my attempt at "War and Peace". That killed it for me. And if that makes me shallow, so be it.
Now I like it all.
But I love love LOVE chic lit. And I realize that some chic lit is better then others. Some is, shall we say, more meaty. And THAT is why I've started my "book club" because I've read so much that I am able to weed out some authors that are better then others.
To be a writer, you must read everything. And that means everything. Even hunting magazines and political biographies. And I do. So thank you "anonymous" for your suggestion. I am sorry that I wasn't more clear on my interests. I appreciate your comment, because it made me think. It caused me to become more accountable as I am preparing to make my own attempts at the literary world. But just so you know, I am aware that there is more then just chic lit out there. :)
Okay, I'm jumping off the box, now.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
How I envied Angela Chase...
I am positive that I am the last person on the planet (besides my mom, who frankly, doesn't care) to realize that the luscious scorn of my sweet 13-year-old heart, Jared Leto (aka Jordan "ah those eyes-those eyes!" Catalano from "My So Called Life") is the front man for the fairly popular and well-known alternative rock band, "30 Seconds to Mars".
Seriously, have I been living under a rock or what?
Suddenly I find myself becoming a TSTM fanatic...
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
My version of the serenity prayer...
What is that darn "serenity prayer"? How does that go?
God grant me the patience to politely deal with people who insist that I am the ignorant one, and that they know better then me. Forget that this is my job and I do this every. single. day. of my life. The patient is always right.
Even if they really aren't this time. At all. Not even close.
Ugh. Count to ten. Take a deep breath. Find a happy field in the recesses of your mind...
Okay. I'm good. Back to work.
God grant me the patience to politely deal with people who insist that I am the ignorant one, and that they know better then me. Forget that this is my job and I do this every. single. day. of my life. The patient is always right.
Even if they really aren't this time. At all. Not even close.
Ugh. Count to ten. Take a deep breath. Find a happy field in the recesses of your mind...
Okay. I'm good. Back to work.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Erin's Book Club pic :)
So I was talking with my dear friend and former roomate of 4 years, Katie Willett, and came across the idea of a sort of "Erin's Book Club", where I would post an entry every now and again of an author that I would recommend. I've done this a few times in the past anyways, but thought I'd make it official.
I solemly swear that this will not be nearly as high-pressured, nor, perhaps, as intriguing as Oprah's high-grossing version, but it will also not be as wacko. Which I think some will appreciate.
For the record, I read roughly 3-4 novels a week and they are typically good-girl romantic in nature, though every so often I'll pick up a heavy duty big girl read. It isn't that I can't read the intense New York Times Best Selling-literary-classic-type works, its just that I generally prefer not to. Perhaps that portrays me as shallow... but I'm jut being honest. If a more serious novel has been recommended to me 3 times, no more, no less, then I will read it. Rest assured, I know when to give in.
I read a little differently then most. As a writer with hopes of making it onto a bookshelf one day, I am very focused on content and details. I read, then reread, and then read once or twice more for good measure. I study character conversation tecniques, chapter beginnings and endings, spiritual content, worldy content, legalism, the "gasp" factor, and finally, how much the story and its characters stick with me after the fact.
Okay, so that is me.
My first author that I am going to feature is Siri Mitchell. She writes chic lit, mostly, but a more heavy and focused sort. The characters are rich, and well thought out. I appreciate the sense of realism that she injects into her characters spiritual struggle. As an author, she is well traveled, so she is able to introduce cultures and languages into her writing that take the reader to another location and lifestyle. I applaud that, being that I can barely afford to travel out of my neighborhood.
I also love that Siri fights against the more legalistic christian views in her novels. She's not afraid to call out the conservative christian culture on not "living like Jesus". I like that. She's got gumption, that one. She also doesn't shy away from creating non-believing characters, and she's certaintly not afraid to chastise the full-fledged believers when they get their noses up in the air. A girl after my own heart. Its obvious that she is down to earth and very willing to admit her own faults... which , I believe, creates some pretty poignant moments in a story.
Siri is also pretty hilarious. She is one of the few authors that have gotten me to laugh out loud while reading. In, "The Cubicle Next Door", there is a scene with the heroine's grandmother and her elderly friends, in which they are assisting her as she attempts to get ready for a military ball. It is wonderfully over the top and I actually chuckled. Yes, Chuckled.
Then there is something that I like to call the "gasp" factor. Siri has this in her novels. I'm talking about the moment in a sweetly romantic story when something happens between the two main characters that actually enduces a gasp out of the reader. I give Siri a 9.5 out of 10 in the gasp department. And 11 out of 10 for the aforementioned novel. Which is something I NEVER give out. Months after the fact, I'm still gasping in shock!
Okay... so I've read and can personally vouch for "Kissing Adrien" (made me want to go to France soooo bad!), "The Cubicle Next Door" (my fav, I think) and "Chateau of Echos" (great historical parallel that created two love stories in one). There are a couple of others that I've yet to read that I would assume are just as worthy reads. She's coming out with a historical fiction later this year that I am really looking forward to.
I would love to hear input if any of you ever pick her up... so please keep me posted!
I solemly swear that this will not be nearly as high-pressured, nor, perhaps, as intriguing as Oprah's high-grossing version, but it will also not be as wacko. Which I think some will appreciate.
For the record, I read roughly 3-4 novels a week and they are typically good-girl romantic in nature, though every so often I'll pick up a heavy duty big girl read. It isn't that I can't read the intense New York Times Best Selling-literary-classic-type works, its just that I generally prefer not to. Perhaps that portrays me as shallow... but I'm jut being honest. If a more serious novel has been recommended to me 3 times, no more, no less, then I will read it. Rest assured, I know when to give in.
I read a little differently then most. As a writer with hopes of making it onto a bookshelf one day, I am very focused on content and details. I read, then reread, and then read once or twice more for good measure. I study character conversation tecniques, chapter beginnings and endings, spiritual content, worldy content, legalism, the "gasp" factor, and finally, how much the story and its characters stick with me after the fact.
Okay, so that is me.
My first author that I am going to feature is Siri Mitchell. She writes chic lit, mostly, but a more heavy and focused sort. The characters are rich, and well thought out. I appreciate the sense of realism that she injects into her characters spiritual struggle. As an author, she is well traveled, so she is able to introduce cultures and languages into her writing that take the reader to another location and lifestyle. I applaud that, being that I can barely afford to travel out of my neighborhood.
I also love that Siri fights against the more legalistic christian views in her novels. She's not afraid to call out the conservative christian culture on not "living like Jesus". I like that. She's got gumption, that one. She also doesn't shy away from creating non-believing characters, and she's certaintly not afraid to chastise the full-fledged believers when they get their noses up in the air. A girl after my own heart. Its obvious that she is down to earth and very willing to admit her own faults... which , I believe, creates some pretty poignant moments in a story.
Siri is also pretty hilarious. She is one of the few authors that have gotten me to laugh out loud while reading. In, "The Cubicle Next Door", there is a scene with the heroine's grandmother and her elderly friends, in which they are assisting her as she attempts to get ready for a military ball. It is wonderfully over the top and I actually chuckled. Yes, Chuckled.
Then there is something that I like to call the "gasp" factor. Siri has this in her novels. I'm talking about the moment in a sweetly romantic story when something happens between the two main characters that actually enduces a gasp out of the reader. I give Siri a 9.5 out of 10 in the gasp department. And 11 out of 10 for the aforementioned novel. Which is something I NEVER give out. Months after the fact, I'm still gasping in shock!
Okay... so I've read and can personally vouch for "Kissing Adrien" (made me want to go to France soooo bad!), "The Cubicle Next Door" (my fav, I think) and "Chateau of Echos" (great historical parallel that created two love stories in one). There are a couple of others that I've yet to read that I would assume are just as worthy reads. She's coming out with a historical fiction later this year that I am really looking forward to.
I would love to hear input if any of you ever pick her up... so please keep me posted!
Nearly there...
In 28 days and counting, I will be reuniting with my NMU college girls on this very beach in Amelia Island, Florida! I. Can. Not. Wait. :)Tuesday, April 8, 2008
At the end of the day, I don't want to be a wimp.
"Running is a big question mark that's there each and every day. It asks you if you are going to be a wimp or are you going to be strong today?"
Monday, April 7, 2008
"the best years of our lives"
So my 10 year high school reunion is coming up. In two years. For some reason all the hooplah is starting 2 years in advance. As if my classmates have scattered across remote continents and are without facebook, myspace and email, with which we can hunt them down within seconds. So we need to begin the furtive searching now! Anyways, I'm not complaining, really. Just curious at the "McHenry West Campus Class of 2000 UNITE" Movement that's in full swing.
At any rate, with the aforementioned movement comes two startling realizations. 1. I missed my grade school 10 year reunion. We all did, I think. I mean... I still keep in touch with one and a half of my gradeschool classmates and I have yet to hear an announcement. And then,
2. That I'm so not ready for this.
It isn't that I didn't like high school. I mean, I didn't really, but that's besides the point. Its more that I've never been able to completely outrun that akward and insecure 16-year-old that felt like she was creeping crawling in her own skin. I wasn't an outcast in high school by any means. I fit in just fine. I wasn't "hot", but rather, cute enough to garner a small amount of attention from the hormone-engaged opposit sex. I wasn't athletic, but aside from PE, that really never mattered. I wasn't wealthy or popular, but I had a great weekend job and was best friends with half of the homecoming court AND the prom queen, so I knew my way around the social circles. The "goody-goody" circles, at any rate. I mean, my parents are both in law enforcement, so anything else wasn't likely to work out, was it?
I really don't know what it is. Honestly, I don't! I went away to college, where I found Jesus and a husband that I adore (along with a completely pointless degree in sociology). I'm comfortable- confident even- in large groups of people. I can strike up a conversation with a stranger without downing a cocktail first. I can run three miles without stopping, bake a mean chocolate chip cookie and style my own hair without frizz (a pretty huge accomplishment, in the end). And I know this will sound silly to most of you, but I can actually type without looking at the keys. Do you know how long that has taken me to accomplish?! Its been life-altering. Really.
But I've finally given in and joined a "class reunion" page and in skimming through the various faces and in some cases, webpages, of my old clasmates, I feel my stomach knot up in a self-betraying bundle of nerves! Within seconds I've reverted to the insecure and jittery braces-laden sophomore that I once was. Frankly, its downright infuriating. After all I've accomplished, this is as far as I've managed?
I think it comes down to my inconveniently sharp memory. You know those surveys that ask "if you could go back to high school right now, would you?" My answer is always a resounding "heck no", but even more then that, its "What's the point, it's still way fresh in my mind." I also think that I've never really been comfortable with Hurt. And lets face it, high schoolers are cruel. Not all, but some. And I witnessed enough hurt and rejection during those four years to recognize that I don't ever need to go back.
I remember with vivid detail walking down the hallway hand in sweaty hand with my for-the-moment-boyfriend and watching a couple of thugs from the wrestling team pin a small, likely homosexual boy to the lockers. After making certain they had a worthy audience, they began noisily humping him. That small boy's face, flashed with anger and humiliation is forever seered into my memory.
I can still smell the PE locker room and can practically hear the murmor of biting gossip. I can still remember comparing myself to every other girl in there, and finding myself lacking.
I remember when I dressed like a "slut" for an experimental school project and I garnered more male attention then I ever had in my life- and liked it. A little. I mean, one of the most popular guys looked my up and down and actually said "you look like a whore.... That's awesome." (huge thumbs up for me) Later that day I was told that I was one of two girls nominated at the "poster girls for absitnence", since we were the girls everyone wanted to sleep with but wouldn't give it up. Nice, huh? I took that as a compliment, too. At the time. Now it haunts me for some stupid reason. Was I a tease? or a prude? or worse, both?
And today, in light of recent events, I remember the occassional Monday morning announcements that came equipped with the typical request for a "moment of silence" for a classmate that had died over the weekend. Sometimes it was a car accident, other times it was a drug overdose. A few times it was suicide.
Yeah, high school was tough. And I realize that I am way more emotional and sensitive than I ought to be. Totally aware of it. And you'll probably read this and say, "wow. seriously. get over it." And to be perfectly honest, I am. When it comes down to it, high school really doesn't creep into my thoughts very often, its just that when it does, it's kind of vicious. Perhaps it is just all this reunion talk...
I'm just saying that I'm not all that sure that I am ready to revisit. Maybe that is why they are giving me two years of advanced notice.
Just A Little Side Note: We have a small group of high school kids over to our place every Thursday night for a bible study/youth group type of deal. Last week, we talked about making decisions. One of the questions that came up was "What is the hardest thing about high school". You know what the kids said? "Homework, teachers, parents" You know that the leader said? "Insecurity, peer pressure, trying to fit in".
Interesting, isn't it. When you are amongst the fray, you think nothing of the peer pressure and issues with self image, but once you are well out of it, and you finally become the person you are meant to be, it becomes so obvious what held you back all those years before!
At any rate, with the aforementioned movement comes two startling realizations. 1. I missed my grade school 10 year reunion. We all did, I think. I mean... I still keep in touch with one and a half of my gradeschool classmates and I have yet to hear an announcement. And then,
2. That I'm so not ready for this.
It isn't that I didn't like high school. I mean, I didn't really, but that's besides the point. Its more that I've never been able to completely outrun that akward and insecure 16-year-old that felt like she was creeping crawling in her own skin. I wasn't an outcast in high school by any means. I fit in just fine. I wasn't "hot", but rather, cute enough to garner a small amount of attention from the hormone-engaged opposit sex. I wasn't athletic, but aside from PE, that really never mattered. I wasn't wealthy or popular, but I had a great weekend job and was best friends with half of the homecoming court AND the prom queen, so I knew my way around the social circles. The "goody-goody" circles, at any rate. I mean, my parents are both in law enforcement, so anything else wasn't likely to work out, was it?
I really don't know what it is. Honestly, I don't! I went away to college, where I found Jesus and a husband that I adore (along with a completely pointless degree in sociology). I'm comfortable- confident even- in large groups of people. I can strike up a conversation with a stranger without downing a cocktail first. I can run three miles without stopping, bake a mean chocolate chip cookie and style my own hair without frizz (a pretty huge accomplishment, in the end). And I know this will sound silly to most of you, but I can actually type without looking at the keys. Do you know how long that has taken me to accomplish?! Its been life-altering. Really.
But I've finally given in and joined a "class reunion" page and in skimming through the various faces and in some cases, webpages, of my old clasmates, I feel my stomach knot up in a self-betraying bundle of nerves! Within seconds I've reverted to the insecure and jittery braces-laden sophomore that I once was. Frankly, its downright infuriating. After all I've accomplished, this is as far as I've managed?
I think it comes down to my inconveniently sharp memory. You know those surveys that ask "if you could go back to high school right now, would you?" My answer is always a resounding "heck no", but even more then that, its "What's the point, it's still way fresh in my mind." I also think that I've never really been comfortable with Hurt. And lets face it, high schoolers are cruel. Not all, but some. And I witnessed enough hurt and rejection during those four years to recognize that I don't ever need to go back.
I remember with vivid detail walking down the hallway hand in sweaty hand with my for-the-moment-boyfriend and watching a couple of thugs from the wrestling team pin a small, likely homosexual boy to the lockers. After making certain they had a worthy audience, they began noisily humping him. That small boy's face, flashed with anger and humiliation is forever seered into my memory.
I can still smell the PE locker room and can practically hear the murmor of biting gossip. I can still remember comparing myself to every other girl in there, and finding myself lacking.
I remember when I dressed like a "slut" for an experimental school project and I garnered more male attention then I ever had in my life- and liked it. A little. I mean, one of the most popular guys looked my up and down and actually said "you look like a whore.... That's awesome." (huge thumbs up for me) Later that day I was told that I was one of two girls nominated at the "poster girls for absitnence", since we were the girls everyone wanted to sleep with but wouldn't give it up. Nice, huh? I took that as a compliment, too. At the time. Now it haunts me for some stupid reason. Was I a tease? or a prude? or worse, both?
And today, in light of recent events, I remember the occassional Monday morning announcements that came equipped with the typical request for a "moment of silence" for a classmate that had died over the weekend. Sometimes it was a car accident, other times it was a drug overdose. A few times it was suicide.
Yeah, high school was tough. And I realize that I am way more emotional and sensitive than I ought to be. Totally aware of it. And you'll probably read this and say, "wow. seriously. get over it." And to be perfectly honest, I am. When it comes down to it, high school really doesn't creep into my thoughts very often, its just that when it does, it's kind of vicious. Perhaps it is just all this reunion talk...
I'm just saying that I'm not all that sure that I am ready to revisit. Maybe that is why they are giving me two years of advanced notice.
Just A Little Side Note: We have a small group of high school kids over to our place every Thursday night for a bible study/youth group type of deal. Last week, we talked about making decisions. One of the questions that came up was "What is the hardest thing about high school". You know what the kids said? "Homework, teachers, parents" You know that the leader said? "Insecurity, peer pressure, trying to fit in".
Interesting, isn't it. When you are amongst the fray, you think nothing of the peer pressure and issues with self image, but once you are well out of it, and you finally become the person you are meant to be, it becomes so obvious what held you back all those years before!
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Get my new shoes on and suddenly everything's right...
I just had this day dream while listening to my new favorite, Paolo Nutini. There is this line in the song "New Shoes" that goes...
Woke up late one Thursday
And I'm seeing stars as I'm rubbing my eyes
And I felt like there were two days missing
As I focused on the time
And I made my way to the kitchen
But I had to stop from the shock of what I found
A room full of all off my friends dancing round and round
And I thought hello new shoes
Bye bye them blues
How wonderful would that be? What if I fell asleep tonight, maybe even like right when I get home... too tired to clean the house, "just gonna lay down for a quick nap", kind of thing... and slept through until tomorrow night! Mike would just shake his head and smile, saying to himself (since I wouldn't wake up to his voice), "wow, she must have been really tired... I'll just clean the house and take care of everything as a nice surprise for her to wake up to." And then he'll call my boss "Yeah, I don't know, she must have been really tired, poor thing, so I'm just gonna let her sleep." And it will be that kind of crazy comfortable sleep that you imagine the people from the lunesta commercials are getting...
And then I just wake up and its Friday night! And there can be people dancing in my kitchen, that would be okay. And new shoes would be even better. The icing on the cake. I've been browsing for new running shoes online in my spare moments. Asics (to combat my peronating stride). Size 8.5. In case you were interested.
So I know the whole scenario is a teenie bit of a stretch, but its not a secret that I have an overactive imagination... and I've been ready for the weekend since Monday afternoon. Not to mention I've had Loverboys "Everybody's working for the weekend" song in my head all week. Ew. If that isn't torture...
Woke up late one Thursday
And I'm seeing stars as I'm rubbing my eyes
And I felt like there were two days missing
As I focused on the time
And I made my way to the kitchen
But I had to stop from the shock of what I found
A room full of all off my friends dancing round and round
And I thought hello new shoes
Bye bye them blues
How wonderful would that be? What if I fell asleep tonight, maybe even like right when I get home... too tired to clean the house, "just gonna lay down for a quick nap", kind of thing... and slept through until tomorrow night! Mike would just shake his head and smile, saying to himself (since I wouldn't wake up to his voice), "wow, she must have been really tired... I'll just clean the house and take care of everything as a nice surprise for her to wake up to." And then he'll call my boss "Yeah, I don't know, she must have been really tired, poor thing, so I'm just gonna let her sleep." And it will be that kind of crazy comfortable sleep that you imagine the people from the lunesta commercials are getting...
And then I just wake up and its Friday night! And there can be people dancing in my kitchen, that would be okay. And new shoes would be even better. The icing on the cake. I've been browsing for new running shoes online in my spare moments. Asics (to combat my peronating stride). Size 8.5. In case you were interested.
So I know the whole scenario is a teenie bit of a stretch, but its not a secret that I have an overactive imagination... and I've been ready for the weekend since Monday afternoon. Not to mention I've had Loverboys "Everybody's working for the weekend" song in my head all week. Ew. If that isn't torture...
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