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aruanAnd yet, this story has a happy ending! Eventually. I swear.
Dude. So besides the dramarama mentioned earlier this morning, I found out there's a test in Reporting on Thursday, there's a test in History of Journalism tomorrow, my glasses have all but been read their last rights, and there's about zero chance of my curling up anywhere safe and warm (much less sleeping) because I'm covering the local LiveJournal meetup for my article this week, due bright and early at 9 a.m.
When I left Miranda's, it was a Duran Duran on repeat kind of day, which is really just a step down from The Cure because I really just mean Ordinary World on infinite loop. Which, yes, hopeful song, but not if you're only listening to the melody.
And that was before I discovered that Word wasn't booting properly and I couldn't therefore type and print my paper for PoliSci, before I was continuously foiled at every turn in my attempts to achieve ringtones for my phone (though I did, oddly enough, find a site that had All I Want Is You This Christmas as an option), before I passed out for most of the movie in said class (though not before learning about a man who signed exactly one thing in all his life, and that was the Declaration of Independence), and definitely before my roommate left and, forgetting that I was in the shower, locked me out of our room.
Jules: ::in a towel and hastily-procured shirt from Jon, hair dripping all over the commons floor:: Hey, my roommate locked me out of our room.
Murphree Area front desk girl: Do you have ID?
Jules: ::tries not to wring her neck:: No, I must've left it in my other towel.
It may not have been my day.
But then!
After changing about five times and in the end effectively negating all the effort I'd put into shaving my legs, I was dressed adequately enough to feel presentable. The meetup ended up being a mellow little outdoor gathering. There was another reporter there, too, so we collaborated. She helped keep me focused and we had the business end of things pretty well covered in fairly short order.
Then![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gegenschein asked about Justin Month festivities, which only led to all kinds of barely on-topic but entertainingly animated rambling on my part. Nothing dissipates a sour mood faster, yo.
Had yet another person remark that I look like "that girl from Everwood." To which I reply, "There's a girl on that show?" Apparently yes, and we bear striking resemblance. Note to self to catch it on Sunday.
Stuck around after I finished the interviews to talk to more folks. I'm generally much more of a listening person, so feeling sparkly and intelligent and just being competent in a social situation always leaves me disproportionately happy. Plus, there's nothing for the ego quite like being checked out when you're feeling unattractive.
Feeling about a thousand times better, subsequent dinner withxalxuffasch was delightful, spent gushing about No Strings, the intro and the sheer magnitude of a sold-out stadium tour, among other things I'm not currently remembering. But good, good times. I shut up enough to swallow, and possibly hurt my cheeks from grinning too much.
And really, there's nothing that a double shot of espresso in a grande Gingerbread Latte won't fix. I'm much too awake even proportionate to the kind of awake I would be if it were an hour I'm supposed to be awake instead of the impossibility that is my being awake at all right now.
The haven't-seen-them-therefore-new-to-us pictures of Justin and Britney are really too, too adorable. Those crazy kids. I've been having Issues with Britney being written off as an inconsequential beard in the story of Justin's life lately because yo, those two were the real McCoy.
And Rio!silentfire is so my hero for sending over Rio! I know exactly one line, the first of the chorus, and have been singing it randomly for the past week. Maddening, I tell you.
slimslash is the sweetest thing in all the history of sweet things. Just as a general note.
And now I'm warm, drugged to the gills with endorphins, my legs are silky smooth, and my desktop's changed fromdacey's ingenious wax museum Justin/JC manip to just JC, singing his little heart out with a starburst of pyrotechnics going off behind him and looking more beautiful than any one creature has any right. There's a deficit of pretty in the world, and it's all JC Chasez's fault. Damn if I'm not grateful.
However briefly, the world is good again.
Dude. So besides the dramarama mentioned earlier this morning, I found out there's a test in Reporting on Thursday, there's a test in History of Journalism tomorrow, my glasses have all but been read their last rights, and there's about zero chance of my curling up anywhere safe and warm (much less sleeping) because I'm covering the local LiveJournal meetup for my article this week, due bright and early at 9 a.m.
When I left Miranda's, it was a Duran Duran on repeat kind of day, which is really just a step down from The Cure because I really just mean Ordinary World on infinite loop. Which, yes, hopeful song, but not if you're only listening to the melody.
And that was before I discovered that Word wasn't booting properly and I couldn't therefore type and print my paper for PoliSci, before I was continuously foiled at every turn in my attempts to achieve ringtones for my phone (though I did, oddly enough, find a site that had All I Want Is You This Christmas as an option), before I passed out for most of the movie in said class (though not before learning about a man who signed exactly one thing in all his life, and that was the Declaration of Independence), and definitely before my roommate left and, forgetting that I was in the shower, locked me out of our room.
Jules: ::in a towel and hastily-procured shirt from Jon, hair dripping all over the commons floor:: Hey, my roommate locked me out of our room.
Murphree Area front desk girl: Do you have ID?
Jules: ::tries not to wring her neck:: No, I must've left it in my other towel.
It may not have been my day.
But then!
After changing about five times and in the end effectively negating all the effort I'd put into shaving my legs, I was dressed adequately enough to feel presentable. The meetup ended up being a mellow little outdoor gathering. There was another reporter there, too, so we collaborated. She helped keep me focused and we had the business end of things pretty well covered in fairly short order.
Then
gegenschein asked about Justin Month festivities, which only led to all kinds of barely on-topic but entertainingly animated rambling on my part. Nothing dissipates a sour mood faster, yo.Had yet another person remark that I look like "that girl from Everwood." To which I reply, "There's a girl on that show?" Apparently yes, and we bear striking resemblance. Note to self to catch it on Sunday.
Stuck around after I finished the interviews to talk to more folks. I'm generally much more of a listening person, so feeling sparkly and intelligent and just being competent in a social situation always leaves me disproportionately happy. Plus, there's nothing for the ego quite like being checked out when you're feeling unattractive.
Feeling about a thousand times better, subsequent dinner with
xalxuffasch was delightful, spent gushing about No Strings, the intro and the sheer magnitude of a sold-out stadium tour, among other things I'm not currently remembering. But good, good times. I shut up enough to swallow, and possibly hurt my cheeks from grinning too much.And really, there's nothing that a double shot of espresso in a grande Gingerbread Latte won't fix. I'm much too awake even proportionate to the kind of awake I would be if it were an hour I'm supposed to be awake instead of the impossibility that is my being awake at all right now.
The haven't-seen-them-therefore-new-to-us pictures of Justin and Britney are really too, too adorable. Those crazy kids. I've been having Issues with Britney being written off as an inconsequential beard in the story of Justin's life lately because yo, those two were the real McCoy.
And Rio!
silentfire is so my hero for sending over Rio! I know exactly one line, the first of the chorus, and have been singing it randomly for the past week. Maddening, I tell you.slimslash is the sweetest thing in all the history of sweet things. Just as a general note.And now I'm warm, drugged to the gills with endorphins, my legs are silky smooth, and my desktop's changed from
dacey's ingenious wax museum Justin/JC manip to just JC, singing his little heart out with a starburst of pyrotechnics going off behind him and looking more beautiful than any one creature has any right. There's a deficit of pretty in the world, and it's all JC Chasez's fault. Damn if I'm not grateful.However briefly, the world is good again.
