Not too shabby for Rachel.

It's a good thing silentfire loves me so much - she was bombarded with more JoLa pictures and squee than any tertiary fan should be subjected to first thing in the morning.

I was late to American History for the first time today and didn't miss anything more than my prof's usual opener. The ex-boy claims he doesn't start class until I walk in (which I can't refute insofar as he does seem to say, "Let's get started" right as I'm sitting down with marked frequency.) Which might make me a bit giddy, not to mention continue the trend of teachers I write for liking me. Which might be contributing to even greater giddiness.

This free time thing hasn't begun to feel any less luxurious. After class, I swung by the Murphree courtyard and partook of the hamburger cookout, drinks, and bouncehouse with xalxuffasch, where we goofed off and talked for close to an hour and a half. Good times.

Watching someone say someone else's name at an inopportune moment loses none of its dramatic effect for me.

Bought my ticket to the Sunset show as well because, oh, hi, that clause bolded and in all caps on my French syllabus about the speaking part of my exam being absolutely un-make-up-able? Not so much.

This weekend is looking to be fantastic. Movies I want to see! No work! But for tonight, it's mostly going to be all about food that requires chopsticks. Because beyond the fannish core and latent insanity, I am but a simple girl.