[embrace the random]

There’s no gif in existence to properly express my sad.  (But feel free to try if you want.)

I just remembered today about a Rule my dad had for life and especially for when someone was putting me down or treating me badly.  He called it “The 1% Rule” and always said to me, “Allison, 1% of the people in the world are jerks. If you put 100 people in a room it’s guaranteed that at least 1 of them will be a stone cold idiot, and probably more. So don’t let them bother you, they’re just a fact of life.”

Obviously, this isn’t exactly the same thing as the OWS 1% (I’m sure some of that 1% are very nice people), but I can’t help but imagine wherever he is, he’s looking down on all this and getting a kick out of it anyway.

Tonight after two classes at the gym, I was so tired during the 15 minute walk to Port Authority that when Missy Elliot came on my iPod I totally zoned out and had a daydream that David Boreanaz and his wife showed up to take my Friday hip hop class (they’re in town for the Tribeca Film Festival, in my head anyway).  They (And by “they” I really only mean David, because if he were in a room with me, my vision would probably tunnel to just him. I mean, come on.) kept telling me how good I was and made me stand in front of them so they could follow (and check out my ass, of course).  After the class we chit chatted for a while and they ended up inviting me to attend a couple of the premieres at Tribeca with them. 

And then Jamie left and we made out.

Oh no, that’s right, we didn’t, because even in my daydreams I’m too moral to move in on a married man.  Seriously, what’s wrong with me?!  If my subconscious were really any good at this, David would have left his wife at home with the kids and I would have given him a private “hip hop class” back in his hotel room.  And then he would have invited me to work on BONES and I would have become BFFs with Emily and won the lottery and cured cancer and lived happily-ever-after. The End.

Epic fail, daydream. Epic fail.

• Get a bad night’s sleep due to ridiculous NYC April heat wave
• Forget gym bag in apartment
• Have bus get into PA 10 minutes after I’m supposed to be at work
• Make sure there is a long line at the taxi stand and no taxis
• Forget belt so rushed walk to work includes hiking up pants multiple times
• Almost get run over while walking in a cross walk on a walk signal
  
• Run into a mob of Sikh protesters across from building
• Dentist appointment
• Finish large pile of work 
• Don’t go to the gym (thanks to #2)
  
• Freak out about the 100th episode of Bones (for 2 hours prior and 2 hours after)
• Pack for Savannah!!!
• Rejoice in knowing that #1-6 can’t happen again until Wednesday
  

Since last night’s Bones promo for the 100th episode, I’ve had the great desire to listen to Death Cab for Cutie almost constantly. I think this is my subconscious trying to prepare itself for impending heartbreak.  I mean, who better to usher it in than a band with lyrics like “Love is watching someone die” right?

And yes I realize this probably means I am slightly too emotionally invested in fictional characters on a fictional television show.  I’m fully aware, thank you.

Now back to the Death Cab marathon…

Your heart is a river that flows from your chest
Through every organ.
Your brain is the dam
And I am the fish who can’t reach the core.

School Vacation Week

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Nice Weather

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Times Square

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No Other Way to Get Home from Work

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A great desire in me to go all Grand Theft Auto on some tourists

I just got an email from ING telling me that one of the CDs I have with them is about to mature. I thought “Awww. My wittle CD is all growed up!” And then I realized CD rates are shit right now and he’ll never make it out there in the great big world.  He might as well just park it in the basement apartment with the rest of his generation.  At these rates he’s gonna be living with mommy for a loooooong time.

I am a sad panda today as one of my roommates is moving back to Michigan to actually live in the same place as his wife (psh what is that?).  This song is maybe his favorite thing ever.  I mean aside from Teen Wolf and The Bourne Ultimatum of course.  (Side note: Can they please mash up those two movies at some point? The Teen Wolf Ultimatum maybe? I would watch that.)  So, pour out some margarita with extra salt, play some Beatles Rock Band (I would myself but the bastard took the Wii with him), and do interpretive dance moves to this song for Matt: friend, roommate, inappropriate storyteller.  The apartment won’t be as gay without you.  Oops, I mean “won’t be the same.”  Peace out.

And as an extra treat, here’s his other favorite song: