It is nearly impossible to decided what to do with yourself on a one night shebang, but This new year, I choose to nerd it up with my theatery friends and get thoroughly Stupid.
To begin, I will attend this fete at the Ohio Theater:
Wearing something of this nature:
Which I have yet to find.
This little stinker will also attend as my sidekick:
Tameek, my co-worker in crime, whom I have dubbed an appropriate dance partner.
And in the days that follow thereafter, I plan to pray more frequently and sincerely, eat more cheese, attend more Dinner parties (like Mrs. Ashley’s Whitfield’s, New Years Day, where good luck pork chops will be served.)
Other lofty goals include starting a new screenplay, carpe-ing the diem, cessation of all things that are Bad for Me, and listening to of much more Timbaland, and shaking what Jodie gave me to said tunes in the privacy of my apartment.
This year, I have to say, is going down in the books, and all was captured by my fancy new diggie cam that is NOT the size and weight of a can of hefty chef boyardee. Sweet.
We started off with a strange sasauge hiding in the bread warm bread breakfast thing, then off we went. Per my suggestion, we started out by having my bros and me distribute our gifts to each other and rents, as we are now sort of adult-like people and no longer give each other bubble gum and little porcelain animals. From me, cute things circulated which I was pretty stoked about: pretty turkish trivettes for Mom, Cormac McCarthy’s The Road for Dad, a vintage German dictionary for Pete, Big Trouble in Little China for Tim, and The Wall Street’s guide to investing in Real Estate for Dan. From brother people, this happy sis racked up starbucks bucks, barnes and noble bucks, and a really pretty necklace which Tim’s girlfriend lovingly selected.
Mom scored a sweet salt and pepper shaker set, which are also not so secretly Mr. and Ms. Claus, Making out.
The boys scored some sets of man tools, of which I was envious. Pete was stoked, Dan was his flippant morning self.
Dem boys all gave each other and my Dad remote controlled air-things. Planes, sea-land vehicluars, helicopters, what have you. With the nerf guns my Mom gave to boot, what followed thereafter was a rackous good Brunstetter time, which shall now be pictorally represented.
Maybe we chased each other around with nerf guns. Maybe we did that.
And then, naturally, little airplane things were flown.
In conclusion, this: I love my family.
I’m sorry that I lied and went to the lake without you, in fear of you stealing All Boys. I was a big twat then, and still am now, but at least now I am a little more self-aware of said twatness (which in a way, makes it worse.) If it’s any consolation, that deception occured partially because you are so darn pretty, and still are now, to this day.
So Let’s start a book club, you and me, with no other members. Let’s bake things for each other and with crumbs in our hair, between the pages of the latest Mirakami, we can talk of what a Twats we once were, and remain to be.
I remember how to drive.
Alright, Bekah. Le jig is up. It is time to quit living lie things, and come forward, honestly, about your sad, post-graduate addictions. Do not glamorize your life; rather, tell the truth. Be honest about how things Now Are, and they way they will probably Continue to be, for quite some time.
I have a problem.
I am addicted, legally, infinitely, passionately, to television. This has never happened to me before. I pass it off as research, because if I ever want to write for TV, which I should (see exhibit my MASSIVE DEBT), then I should watch TV. A lot. This habit started off innocently. A little late night Ugly Betty here, a lot Family Guy there. But: it has turned into a full-fledged evening habit. Worse than fingernailing biting (which I still do); less bad then um. Heroin? Yeah. That’s right. I don’t do that.
Yeah, maybe I do. Obsessively, and a lot. Nearly like background music. And also:
which is this adorable new show about a girl (miss cutie mccute pants, who knew?) Christina Applegate, who used to be a royal mc bee(otch) and gets amnesia, and is now re-discovering herself, re-inventing her life. So stinking cute and legitimately humorous. This I like to watch in 30 minute increments before bed, balancing my mac on my Christmas gut.
Honestly- do you remember how good this show is? Honestly. Elizabeth got the DVDs, and we have a problem.
Well, I gotta go. I’m meeting Jared Leto in the boiler room. I think I’m going to tell him it hurts to look at him, or I might just pick a fight with my Mom or dye my hair.
Friday night, I abandoned any and all social engagements and Baked.
More specifically, je baked little pumpkin breads with dark chocolate and hazelnut chunks. People, they turned out swimmingly, as plump little edible Christmas gifts. I shall distribute them with grown-up discretion.
That is to say, if you get one, you are Lucky.