(I went here)
My hair was BORN for a non-humid climate. Seriously, I think if my hair could make the decision, it would be all like “Bitch, please. We’re staying here til I’m grey and falling out. For real.”
Specialist < analyst < strategist, in the grand scheme of things. Recognize.
Shanahan used to own the Broncos and now he owns the Redskins. I don’t know if I care about that, but I do know he has an awesome steak and some kick-ass truffle mac’n’cheese.
I managed to make my mom cry. I know, I know. She was all freaking out about me traveling by myself, right? And I’m like, “Dude. I went to Seattle by myself when I was 22 and it was the first time I ever flew, and you didn’t bat an eye.” I think her husband was worried about me (bless his heart) and that made HER worried and they just worked each other up so much that it ended up escalating to the point that she burst into tears. She definitely pulled the whole “I can’t believe you’re surprised that I care. OF COURSE I care.” This was on the phone about thirty minutes after I got to my hotel, mind you. So I had to calm her down and THAT turned into a discussion of the things that are broken in our respective homes; her sink is leaking and my fence fell down. That distracted her enough, I think.
Denver is GREEN. They just had a bunch of storms, so everything was lush and pretty. I really wanted to take of my shoes and walk barefoot in the grass, but I didn’t want anyone to think I was that crazy girl from Virginia.
As I’m writing this, I’m also listening to “Jane Eyre.” I wonder how the in-flight movies are chosen? Because seriously, I can’t imagine this is high on the list for this particular demographic. Strangely enough, I was just talking about the book yesterday, when I explained why I ended my short-lived English major and switched to Political Science; you can only deconstruct “Jane Eyre” so many times before the analysis overshadows the work itself. I believe in enjoying literature, not picking it apart until it’s meaningless and reduced to representative hyperbole.
I accidentally took someone’s seat. He’s now in 39D and I’m in 39C. I wonder if I changed some small course in the universe. We’re across the aisle from each other right now and I wonder if I’m supposed to be sitting there. Maybe the young man in 39E (who’s reading what looks like the memoir of a chef) would have been reading my computer screen at this exact moment (in this now-alternate universe) and would have asked me what I meant by “representative hyperbole,” and I would have had to tell him I wasn’t quite sure – I can’t think of the right phrase right now. It would have turned into some pseudo meet-cute, in which we develop an absolute distaste for each other after we argue the merits of analyzing literature and feminist theory. We then would have been stuck in D.C. overnight and would keep running into each other over and over until, exhausted and at our wits’ end, we finally end up at the airport bar. After drowning our sorrows, bemoaning our fates and finally admitting we find each other attractive, we end up in a hotel room together.
This is the “Jane Eyre” with Mia Wasikowski, who’s supposed to be “a revelation,” according to the reviews I read. Wow, I really forgot how awful the boarding school/orphanage/whatever is.
Oh hey, the chick that played Henry’s super-young bride in the Tudors is totally in this.
(Two hours later) HOLY DAMN I forgot how hot Rochester is. Wasikowski did a good job (I wouldn’t call her “a revelation,” but she was a’ight). But whew, Rochester is a hot chunk o’Victorian man.
*EDIT* How did I somehow foreshadow the ridiculous delays that were about to happen? I didn’t get in to Norfolk until 2:30 a.m. Ugh.