"Whoa ohh ohhh! Your Sex is on Fire!!!"

Thanksgiving is, by name at least, the day that we spend giving thanks. Generally it is the day that, before we eat a ridiculous amount of food, we force ourselves to mumble something on the spot and/or cliche about what we are thankful for. I feel like rarely does one get a chance to suddenly understand how thankful they are.

But for me, man, this year has been the greatest Thanksgiving ever. Not only was the spirit of Thanksgiving out in full show because I'm abroad, but I actually had a moment of true Thankfulness.

If you ever get to study abroad, do it in the fall because that's when Thanksgiving is. Something about Americans celebrating an American holiday brings out a rejuvenated sense of thankfulness and patriotism. It's a true coming together and the spirit of sharing saturates the air.

I headed down to the coolest, most traditionally Irish bar that we have in Cork, which we had rented out for our Thanksgiving. I had a good time. I had some friends there who I ate with and chatted with, I met some Irish Thanksgiving newbies, and then I headed out to my second thanksgiving.

It was halfway through this second Thanksgiving dinner, where I was surrounded by kids from all over, Ireland, Italy, Spain, America, that I actually had a moment of clarity and true thanks. It may sound cheesy, but it's true.
One of the girls had a seizure and collapsed on the floor. No one was really sure what was happening but we acted as fast as we could, got her on her side, called the ambulance and her parents (who were luckily in town). When she finally came to we got her legs elevated and she began to talk her way through the shocked silence. She's on medication for a tooth infection. She has one of those hole things in her trachea. Seizures were a common occurrence for her when she was younger (talking a couple hundred) and she wears one of those bracelets that has her emergency medical information on it. She won't be able to walk for the next 13 hours because of the seizure. And she went on.

I don't. I don't have any of that. Having food allergies sucks and having random and currently unattributed stomach pain sucks harder. But I don't get seizures that demobilize my legs for 12 hours. There is no hole in my body that should not be there. I don't have to wear my medical information around my neck. I haven't had an ambulance called so many times that I know the procedure.

And in that moment, sitting slightly uncomfortably on the couch, I realized what I'm really thankful for: to be alive and to be able to appreciate being thankful. My relatively good state of health. Friends and family who I can celebrate with and whose company I can enjoy.

I'm thankful for two Thanksgivings. I'm thankful for guitars and international students and four hours of jam sessions. I'm thankful for friends who I can laugh with. I'm thankful for friends with whom I can sit quietly and not feel awkward. I'm thankful for friends who I enjoy being with when I'm sober even if they are not. I'm thankful for An Brogue. I'm thankful for Italians who dragged me out on the dance floor. I'm thankful for kismet meetings of other fantastic friends. I'm thankful for way cute bar backs who end up at An Brogue. I'm thankful for friends who will stalk said bar backs with me in awkward, embarrassing 12-year-old ways. I'm thankful for drunk Irish flattery from drunk Irish friends. I'm thankful that I tend to like flame and lighters. I'm thankful for memorable moments like when way cute bar-backs try to burn the pants crotch of one of the drunk Irish friends, you know, as a joke. I'm grateful that the drunk Irish friend did not, in fact drop trou and burn off all his nether-hair as he was possibly threatening to do? I'm thankful for small music celebrities and I'm thankful for my paparazzi skill with a camera. I'm thankful for impromptu rap sessions in the street.

I'm thankful that I'm in Ireland and I'm thankful that I finally. Finally. wish I could stay longer.

Oh how I love Tuesday nights.

Every week I look forward to Tuesday night. Monday nights are the worst because I know that there are only a few hours until I have to get through Tuesday. Sunday nights are pretty bad too because I've got Monday and Tuesday ahead of me. But Tuesday nights are amazing.

Tuesday nights are the start of my weekend. My only class on Wednesday is at 4:00 so I can stay up as late as I please. Tuesday nights are rocking around here. There's the whole excitement of getting ready and the stream of neon lights as we parade between bars. But sometimes I stay in. I stay in my pajamas and eat way too much sweet stuff and watch TV on my computer and fall asleep with a smug smirk on my face because I know I'm not going to wake up with a massive hangover.

***

I have three weeks left here. I spent the first month hitting the big bars and clubs with my roommates. I spent the second month traveling and/or sick. And then I found it - with my weeks dwindling away I discovered the campus bars and the people who haunt them on the right nights. Thursday nights is open mic nite at the New Bar. It's all chrome and mahogany and geometric with a finely polished bar, tall bar stools and cute bartenders. The lights are dim and yellow and the crowd is just too cool for wherever they happen to be. The musicians all know each other and gather toward the front, packed into a few booths and the small tables. Everyone else just relaxes with a pint and carries on their conversations between songs.

The Old Bar is the perfect foil to the New Bar. The stools are mismatched and upholstered with what looks like the couch of a 97 year old spinster. The bar looks more like a diner counter than a bar and the wooden parquet floor is perfectly worn away everywhere except underneath the raised stage where it gleams. It's louder and rowdier even though the same people are there. The lights are full and harsh and the speakers look like they could have been attached to the ceiling with duct tape.

The Live Music Society (who knew there was one of those? Not me obviously...) had their annual songwriter's contest semi-finals there tonight and a friend of mine was playing. And it was fantastic. It was fantastic to have so many different styles thrown at me in one night. It was fantastic to be surrounded by this group of people who all loved the music and all knew each other and all yelled out their support. It was fantastic to sit and listen to some really talented musicians pour their hearts out through a microphone. It was fantastic to finally get blown away by my friend's music (it was the first gig of his that I've been too... oops.) and it was fantastic to listen to him play one of the sweetest songs while sitting next to the girl I'm pretty sure he wrote it for/about.

And it was nice that I could do that for free and then come back and enjoy my quiet, indulgent Tuesday night. After all, gotta rest up for Wednesday and Thursday (which will, of course, start at the New Bar).

All I want right now is to see a shooting star. I know exactly what my wish would be.

But you don't really see stars here. Not the real ones at least, I'm sure there are many around here who have drunkenly or otherwise ended up on the wrong side of an inanimate object or, you know, fist and been rewarded with twinkling lights.
No, it's too cloudy. With this unpredictable weather, it's not unusual to start the day sunny, watch the clouds roll in, and then sprint from the hail and end up watching the sunset through scattered showers.

Occasionally you can see the stars here, but they are too faint and too uncommon to ever encourage hope for a shooting star. They aren't wishing stars; consider yourself lucky just to have seen them. That's wish fulfillment enough.

But if I could, I'd wish to be lying on a rooftop on a balmy evening watching a meteor shower; and enjoying but not fully appreciating how lucky I'd be to see such a wealth of light.

...and maybe a bag of jellybeans. Man, I would give my first born child for some of those. I seriously can't find good candy here. The ONLY non-chocolate candy is gummy-based or skittles which don't even taste like real skittles.
le sigh.

I pretend black tea isn't caffeine.

I pretend it isn't caffeine and then drink it after dinner as a distraction (or just to look cool) while I am typing away at my computer. Sometimes I'm doing actual work. An hour an a half later I'm still typing away, swept up in what I tend to believe is a great fantastic creative brainstorm. Or I've been blessed with a brief period of intense productivity, so I make lists and I plan and I budget. And I get excited about what I'm going to do the next day when I wake up. I'll clean my room, I'll get started on that paper, I'll walk myself downtown to pick up a few things, I'll DO things. There are papers busily strewn about my desk and the feeling of accomplishment floods my veins carried along by the adrenaline. I decide that I will start working out more, eating better. I find heavy things and do arm exercises at my desk while I am planning and working and typing.

And it's exhilarating because the caffeine doesn't even cross my mind. Black tea isn't caffeine, so why would it have any effect on me?

And then I wake up the next day groggy and without the slightest idea as to why I chose to stay up until two o'clock planning and designing the Christmas cards I want to give my roommates before I leave.

But I have to pretend because if I don't, I'll start drinking tea in the morning to get that sense of accomplishment early in the day. And then I'll have to move on to coffee to get the buzz, and then espresso. Green tea is a gateway drug, kids. It leads to black tea which just leads to a whole mess of problems.

Good thing caffine doesn't affect me, right?


Man could I use some sugar right about now...

Come i Romani

I know I promised (crossed my heart and hoped to die) a post two days ago, but I've made it up to you at the end of the post.

Our last day in Rome was one of those days that you need on vacation, one of those literal-in-every-sense-of-the-word vacation days. The ones where you stroll and enjoy and let yourself become as much of a part of that particular place as possible. It's the day that you get to distance yourself from the other tourists still caught up in all the wonder and bustle and delude yourself into thinking that you are less of a tourist. You feel that you've been living in the place for long enough to be a part of it, you've seen, you've figured it out, you've tried it, you remember it. You have a history with the place that allows you to feel at home. And because you are home, you don't need to be a tourist, you can enjoy what life is like for those who do live there, and you get to experience the place more intimately.

So with none of the haste to see that had woken us at the crack of dawn for the past two days, we got up late, ate late and got ready with leisure.
We sauntered through the Borghese gardens, which the guide book said were like Central Park, but in reality, they were much more Luxembourg-esque. And in the off-season, half of the people there were just Romans, jogging, walking their dogs, studying, reading, being. Then we made our way back through the tangled maze of monuments that had been the frenzy of the previous two days, picking the streets more wisely and somewhat correctly.

We asked and received directions in Italian to the piazza called Campo di Fiori where we sat by the fountain and watched the daily market break down while we ate our fashionable late lunch.
As the day drew to a close we found ourselves winding through the twisted fauna and laundry-line covered lanes of Trastevere, the old neighborhood, up to the summit of Giancolo hill to watch the sun set on Rome.
After a hearty dinner and my long-awaited, very Italian after dinner cappuccino (with extra sugar) we headed out on a night walk back through the heart of Rome. Of course, some of us were rather more wired than others...
We passed back through Campo di Fiori at night and watched the cobblestones, swept clean of the morning's fruit leaves and bits of packing boxes, fill with Roman youth doing their dance of interaction. We passed by the Pantheon, no longer packed with tourists and completely devoid of protesters. We walked by the Trevi fountain, as beautifully lit as any post card would depict it. And with a final quick and hopeful glance at the Spanish Steps, we turned back to the hostel, ending our short-but-sweet Roman Holiday. (And yes, I did try to channel Audrey Hepburn from Roman Holiday by being fabulous on the Spanish Steps.)

A couple of years ago I met a traveler in a bar who told me that the best time to see Rome is in the winter time when the crowds and the leaves have both gone.
I really couldn't have agreed with him more because Rome in the winter is gorgeous. And seeing the crowds in November, I couldn't imagine what the crowds of the summer must be like.
The similarities between Rome and Paris are obvious, but the differences are, I think, more striking. Rome to me will always be a stoic city with tears streaming down its face, and I believe that being there in the winter really brought that out. I mean, it is an ancient city with a tumultuous history and the evidence is obvious. Even the buildings look like they are crying. They are more obviously old and the water damage over the years looks like tear tracks. Many of the buildings are painted those warm reds and oranges that just scream "Italy!" But so many more have that same cold paleness of ivory, like the ancient statues that dot the city like a pox. I mean it's a city that's built on history, literally and coexists with buildings that were broken thousands of years ago. Archaeologists and historians tell us we are so lucky to have history preserved for us, and for that Rome has become famous. But for me, those ruins are really just broken buildings that were never repaired.
Don't get me wrong, Rome is an amazing city, and it's obvious from the outset. It's bustling with life and people. It is truly Italian, with it's food and it's people (especially the little old ladies who still wear their knee-length skirts with nylons and orthopedic shoes like my great-grandmother did), it's little restaurants and it's old neighborhood. It's truly modern, with it's bustling commercial and financial centers, and it's upscale neighborhoods with houses that are villas in their own right. It's truly on the edge and forward-thinking with it's recent past and current political situations that have called the university students into the streets to care and to act.
But at the same time, it will always be sad, because it will always have the fallen ivory statues and columns of a great civilization that crumbled.

And that's probably why Rome is best in winter. Because with fewer people, and the crisper air and the paler sky and the bare trees, you can see that sadness in sharper relief. And that melancholy beauty is what sets Rome apart.

and so I give you:

I'm sorry, what?

So I promise to write a flowery, poetic and inspired (and probably rather purple) post later today about Rome, my last day there and my general thoughts and ponderings on the city. Cross my heart and hope to die.

But just a few things before I leave for class:
I have had the hardest time understanding Irish accents in the past couple of days. I mean, my professors are all perfectly understandable. Maybe it has something to do with lecturing and the lifestyle of the academia and all... but everyone else has just been ridiculously difficult.
Maybe it's because I'm having actual conversations with actual Irish youth for the first time in the two months I've been here (honestly, it's like I'm living in Little America up in here...), maybe it's because I just got back from Rome where it took me three days to get a handle on the language again and now I'm phasing back out of Italian/English and into Irish/English.

But whatever it is, it's ridiculous. I mean, do you realize how much longer a conversation is when you have to say "Wait, I'm sorry, what?" after every other sentence? Or how hard it is to keep the continuity when, after asking "what?" three times I still can't understand the statement and so just nod vaguely and smile.

Then again, I could just be distracted and hard of hearing because I'm pretty sure I had a similar conversation with a girl from Minnesota yesterday.


...hmm... maybe there's a bit of a hitch in my master plan of listening to loud music while I'm young and then taking advantage of the advanced hearing technology that will develop by the time I get old...

A-gitazioni Happened on the Way to the Forum...

Today was supposed to be all about ancient history. We started at the Colosseum and pretended we were the emperor deciding Russel Crowe's fate (maybe next time he'll think twice before throwing a phone at a helpless hotel clerk.) We hit the Forum and walked down the streets like triumphant heroes returning with the spoils of a war that oppressed and destroyed hundreds of cultures. We stood by the Rostrum and pondered jumping the rails to stand up and repeat history: "Friends, Romans, Countrymen... Lend me your ears!" (as if it hasn't been repeated enough...)
We wandered Palatine hill, the site of the Imperial Palace which we decided would be a right cozy home. I've always thought a throne room would be the perfect addition to any house I have.
And then it was onto the Pantheon, which I think had some sort of governmental use, but is really just famous for it's dome.

But we got waylaid by modern history.

See, in Italy, the government is trying to cut funding to schools which means something like half the universities will be shut down, the rest will be more expensive, more croweded and employ fewer teachers. So the students are protesting. En Masse.

Alana was telling me about some of the smaller demonstrations in Perugia and how some bigger ones are televised. En Route to the Colosseum we saw a few groups of students marching with signs and said "oh, how awesome! I love it when people care!"

And then we saw more. While touring the haunts of the ancients, we would occasionally look down and see the gathering of youth grow bigger. And then we could hear them.

And they marched. They marched up the streets in exactly the direction we were headed (the Pantheon) - much to my delight.

"Come on! Let's join in!!!"

I literally took every opportunity I could to pull us into the throng. "No really, I'm almost positive that they're headed to the Pantheon..."

Alana didn't believe me so we ended up trying to avoid the crowds and find lunch. We ended up finding a Pizza and Kebab place, however it was across the stream of protesters.
"Come on! We'll go up a couple of blocks and then march with them and slowly make our way across the street."
So we ate kebabs packed into this tiny place with about 20 Italian students all jostling for a mid-protest boost.

Later we tried to avoid the crowds again by having gelato by the Trevi fountain.

But in the end, we really wanted to see the Pantheon. And luckily for me, it was the site of one of their demonstrations\sit-ins. Oh I was in heaven. Amidst all these people who cared so much about their education and their rights that they were filling the streets with passion. Facing the lines of riot cops with shields and helmets. (Which is scary. I mean, I know my Italian history. I know what happened in the 70s. Those lines of cops were ominous.)

So that was today. We finished off with another nap and another thrifty dinner and gelato (again.)

Tomorrow: Living Roman.

Ciao Roma!!!

So I plan to write a long and poetic post about Rome when I return to Cork. But for now, we'll just get the dailies out of the way.

I arrived Wednesday night, the night of Alana's birthday and we had a right grand party. We found our way to the Trastavere for dinner in a quaint little place down some alley. After a 325 mL bottle of wine, Roman artichokes, veal and a brownie, we were warm and giggly on the way back to the hostel. Which, by the way is a very awesome hostel indeed.

Thursday we did the Vatican partly to avoid weekend crowds and partly because it was raining. If the Vatican itself doesn't strike the fear of God in you, imagine being there amidst thunder and lightning and torrential rain. And then imagine emerging to the clouds opening up to a dynamic and Renaissance sky ready to frame a descending angel or two. Yea.
We walked through the museum and sat in awe in the Sistine Chapel, Sprinted through the rain for a quick lunch break at a small pizzeria, and then returned to spend an hour dwarfed by the Basilica which is the most amazing dichotemy of GIANT and yet intimate-feeling.

We both agreed that dinner needed to be Chinese. Why? you ask. Why would we crave Chinese in Rome, one of the very centers of Italian cuisine? Well, for one, I can eat more Chinese food than I can Italian food, for another, Alana lives in Italy and gets this all the time and finally, you just can't explain cravings. Also, a sit down, two course Chinese meal for 7 euro each? Quite fine, thank you very much!! Plus they gave us these little key chain-y things instead of fortune cookies!!!

And today, forecast: hopefully not rainy. Docket? ruins and the ancient Romans. The Colosseum, the Forum, The Pantheon etc.
Avanti!!!

To put all of that previous babbling behind us, to distract you from my own political musings and public hashing-out of my own thoughts and to celebrate this historic moment in history, this is for you:

Maya Angelou


I've watch people on TV sobbing with joy at Obama's election, I've heard that his speech brought many to tears, but I've never imagined myself crying because of politics. Ms. Angelou drew the first tear from my eye, not only with her amazing, eloquent and powerful words, but also with the entirety of her personal history and national importance. It shouldn't be shocking that her words in conversation carry as much emotion and meaning as any poem, she is a great American writer.

And I am fully and completely inspired by her.

Unfortunatley, the floodgate have been opened and I start sobbing like a baby every time I read something about "a new chapter in history" or "a monumental and historical event" or "a long awaited change." I mean, something JUST. HAPPENED. Just now, and even the cynic in me is helpless to it's overwhelming historical significance. This is going to be in the history books, not just 20 years from now, but hundreds of years from now.

Someone please get me a tissue.

Let's get political (yes, I do believe that I am the first person EVER to make that play on words, thankyouverymuch!)

Apparently, We actually Can.

And I have some thoughts on this (as per usual).
I've been reading articles all morning about the way that this election has brought people together. They are saying that in line to vote people had a very "we" mentality vs. a "me" mentality (Link
And apparently voter turnout was ridiculously high. (I heard that in Connecticut, it was almost 98% turnout!)
Wasn't it just a few years ago that turnout was almost at an all-time low?

So what is going on with our country? I mean, as far as I can tell, this election was so deeply divided between red and blue, it could have been gang warfare. I mean seriously, I'm sure wearing a certain color tie has become, in the grown-up world, pretty much the same as wearing the wrong color bandanna. I know that around here, if you support McCain, getting bitch-slapped is the least of your worries.

I think I have to believe that this transcendence and this complete and utter obsession with politics that our country has shown is the result of a deep, aching need for a change. I mean a real change. Something that will turn our country around, something that will bring us out of financial crisis, something that will end the sickening stalemate of stupidity that we call a war, something that will end the distrust of the government, of our protectors, that has seeped into all pores and corners of our nation.

And honestly? I think either candidate would have brought about that change. They are both moderate enough and both understand the current situation of the people of the United States well enough to publicly address their needs and make the changes that need to be made. But this wasn't an issue-election the way the last two elections were. I mean, I don't follow politics like I should, but the issues really fell into the background. I have no idea where Obama stands on abortion. I don't know what McCain thinks of illegal immigration. But I do know that they both have what it takes to regain international credibility and respect for the United States. And that's what I think really mattered in this election, and I also think that's why there was such a sudden interest and... passion, for the political "now" of our country.

I hate to say it, because it sounds cynical, but we were voting for a figurehead, and that's a lot easier for people to understand than the issues. Just look at why so many people voted for Bush - he seemed like a guy you could sit down and have a beer with. Well, thankfully we realized that running a country like you're drunk is no way to deal with the lives of millions of people. Just look at who we could vote for this year - two heroes. I mean, serious heroes. McCain is a war hero, and just by running Obama became a hero to every minority group in the country, and I'm including women here. And it's obvious in the way they talk.

And that's why I think people could transcend party lines while in the midst of a deeply divided election - because either way it would end up the change that we all needed.
That's also why I think voter-turnout was high, especially with that problem group - the youth, people knew they were taking part in something big, something historical and at the same time were still aware of the importance of participating as one person in a divided election.

So we're finally fully aware of out right and responsibility to vote as US citizens. We finally care about what's going on in our world. We finally have a leader who is inspiring and welcomed with open arms by the INTERNATIONAL COMMUNITY. (Seriously, I was looking at the latest Reuter's headlines, it's all "Leaders of Europe hail Obama victory" "Asia offers warm welcome to Obama")

So what happens now?
I mean we've put so much into this election, where is it all going to go? They tell me that I missed the most amazing night in Berkeley since the 60's. (I told them to stop making me jealous, that wasn't fair.) Apparently there were so many people on telegraph that cars were trapped, people were crowd surfing and fireworks were going off. From my early-morning sources, I hear that Santa Cruz was similar. Well, fantastic! I'm so happy to see my nation celebrating a political victory. But where is all that energy going to go?

The world is not going to change over night. We have not been magically transported back into the era of political fervor that was the 60's, activism doesn't work the same way today. I mean, Obama doesn't become president tomorrow. He's not going to have the troops out of Iraq for his inauguration party. And the economy is not going to miraculously recover as part of the celebration. It's going to take a lot of work. The dark days are still ahead of us, and I think many people don't really understand this. I think we've all been dazzled by the idea of change, that we're still seeing stars. But those are going to fade, and fade fast, and we'll be left with the same sights we had before.

Yea. It's going to take a long time. I support Obama for many reasons, my primary reason is, in fact his inexperience. He has the intelligence to surround himself with more experienced people, but hopefully some of that naivety will help pull us out of the same system that we have been dealing with for years. The world is changing, we need to too.

But there are a lot of other reasons that he scares me. Even before being elected president, he had the highest guard of any president in the history of the United States. He is a black president in a country where there still is racism, not matter how hard we pretend it's not there. I'm thankful that he chose Joe Biden as his running mate because there is a very real chance that Obama could get killed. Also, I worry for what is going to how public opinion of him is going to change when the stars fade out of our eyes. We expect great things, amazing things. We anticipate a period of drastic change and rapid regeneration of the dead limbs of our society. It's not going to happen like that and when it doesn't, I worry that people will blame Obama. I mean, society doesn't understand how politics works, society judges by what we see in the media and we judge by whatever is happening in the moment. We can't know what is going on behind the scenes. Will we become complacent and bored again? Or is this really a change?

Yes We Did, but what will we do now?



I, for one, am going to go have a margarita. Happy cinco de noviembre everyone!!!
(Do you have any idea what the "mexican food" is like here? We had to get together a celebration to cook and remember. Though... no one else is from California, right? So when I said "tacos" they went "ground beef!" and I went "oy..." I'll just have to continue dreaming about my steak tacos with onions and cilantro for another month and a half.)

Karma is a bitch.

So all today I was like "hey loosers in America, I'm going to see the new James Bond movie because it's already out here! Oh wait, you can't see it until November 22? That sucks! Haha!"
I mean I would seek people out, like, just to taunt them. (Sorry Dad, Malcolm)
And then a friend of mine is like "oh! you're going to see the Bond movie? I'm going with a bunch of friends at 6:45. Meet you there?"
And I'm like psyched to go with a big group.
But when I met with my friend she was all "Hey, so Burn After Reading starts at 9:30, ready?"
And I was like "Wait, not Bond?"
And she goes "Oh my god! You wanted to see the Bond movie!? Oh my god, I got confused, sorry!"
And then I'm all "That's okay." Because I generally avoid conflict.

So we get down to the theater at 9. There's a 9:15 showing of the Bond movie, but I don't say anything, right? Because she wants to see Burn After Reading.
But we couldn't have switched anyhow because I guess all the Bond tickets sold out while we were in line or something I guess? Because the man announced it. Whatever.

So then we buy our tickets, and I get really excited for a soda and candy, except by the time I get through the candy line I've finished my soda. Great. Plus, the candy sucked.
So now I feel sick because of all the sugar?

PLUS! Burn After Reading? Like, SO not a comedy. I mean it's the Coen brothers right, so I should have known, like. I mean we just sat there for like 5 minutes afterward going "What?... I mean, what? ... wait, that was SO not a comedy!"

I mean, it wasn't bad or anything. I mean, it's the Coen brothers so it's brilliant. But. I mean. But.

So there. So I didn't see the Bond movie yet. So you can all go off and buy your bootleg copies of it and be all "Oh Maggie, guess what? We saw the Bond movie without you again! It was fantastic! Oh my god, I want to tell you about this part where... Oh! I shouldn't! But it's SOOO GOOD!!!"

Oh there is hate oozing out of my pores right now.

Karma? You're on my list.




OH! EXCEPT! EXCEPT! I FORGOT!!!!
Watching John Malcovich say (pardon my language) "fuck" was probably the highlight of my week. Just something about the way he says it, the way his face moves and contorts is just genius!