*Thumb smushing motion*

And so my weekend. Oh, Boston, how you toy with my emotions. Friday afternoon I was aflutter cause it was Frizziday and my supervisor wasn't there so I could, you know, do stuff I wasn't supposed to. Like pause in my filing. At any rate, I am finishing my day by quickly jotting down my somewhat paltry time card for the week (temping is fun AND dislucrative!! - I know that's not a word, bitches). What do I hear as I write the number "21.5 hours" with a flourish? Why a rap tap tapping at the door! Thinking that someone left their coat or time card or....wait no one else has those except me. Bitches.

Anyway, I pop open the door and look somewhat startled because there is a mans standing outside the door in his suited finery. He queries, "Hello! I will be an applicant for the fall of 2006 and I was wondering what sort of information you could give me on the J.D. program?" *professional smile* Mind you, this would be less weird if it weren't 5:15 on a Friday afternoon, our window is closed, our door is locked and there's a general chill to the admissions wind.

"Well sir, we're closed right now, but there are some brochures that explain the program on the bookshelf to your left"
"Where?"
"Uhhhhhhh right there."
"Right, well, I just had some questions. Can you answer them for me?"
"Why don't I just snag one of those for you?"
"Yes, I see the brochure. Is the director here?"
"Uhhhhhhh. What? You know it's Friday right?" <-- desperation
"Yes, I was just hoping..."
"We're closed." <-- finality
"Is there anything else you can give me?"
"Let me just go see if we have a map or something," <-- depression
"Great!" *professional smile*
*look of death*

It took another 5 minutes, but he eventually left when I kept saying the word "NO!" to every thing he began to say. I was positive that an ambush was possible. He was very excited. I don't think I've hated someone that much in months. At any rate, the weekend was fairly unsurprising other than that. It was my triannual attempt to appreciate Woody Allen, so we went to go see "Melinda and Melinda" and I left feeling used yet again. I always get this sense that his stuff would belong so much better on stage. Ironically, the premise of the film was the comparison of life to comedy and tragedy and how two different script writers view it. So in reality their ideas would have implied a stage play instead of a cinematic feature so it makes a lot of sense ultimately Interestingly enough, no matter how many times I rationalize it and keep realizing how Woody Allen was quite clever about the whole thing, I still feel hella used.

Sunday was uneventfully Easter and I let Kitty root through some boxes as her present. And today I managed to sift through an entire bag of jelly bellies and eat all the lemon lime ones. There were some wayward green apple and a couple of unidentified, but I'm happy to say I made it safely through without getting any buttered popcorn. *shudder* So I ate like a pig today and had enough sugar to kill a small cow. Then I went to the gym, planned on running a few miles, ran one because I thought I was going to puke lemon lime jelly beans all over the dude next to me, and lifted weights. Then I declared myself a Fatty McsFatsalot to Richard and some sweaty man who I swear was wearing a sweatband and scampered home. Lean cuisine for dinner and nothing but cottage cheese for the rest of the week, I swear.