Uninteresting Musings

So the Laurie Carlos cast list is up and at 'em. I can't wait. It's going to be great.

I love my new running shoes. I have never had such neat gym shoes before, I feel like I'm the coolest kid in gym class in third grade.

I am going to grow my hair out all this summer and then dye it red.

Things I like right now:

Spinach
Hard boiled eggs
The drawings on boxes of Tea

Things I want right now:

For people to burn me mix CD's because I need new music

I just gots to finish this group project, the play, scholarship applications, and then I will have loads of time to mooch around, studying and hooting and hollering and working at the Thai restauranttttt.

By the way, one of the waitresses told me that

"Someone in the kitchen is...like you."
So I guess that means that I am
A. Very similar to the burly, international kitchen staff at Siam Terrace, or
B. That someone thinks it is attractive when I walk into the kitchen, almost slip, and then throw silverware into the little tub of nasty silverware chunks-of-food water and get the water all over the place and then slyly take off.

It is 5:11. I have to be back at The Institution (Krannert, obvi) in 49 minutes. I'm sick of how predictable it is. Do I have to go see Hamlet? (Yes.) Oh, okay. If you insist...

I might eat all of Annah's soy hot dogs. I'm a fan.

Currently, I'm reading a book for fun. Water for Elephants. Ever heard of it? I'm liking it so far except it's blatantly obvious that the main character, though a man, was written by a woman. Because he says funny things about peens that I notice and you notice, but I feel like men don't notice. Or maybe they do. But it's also clear that the woman who wrote it is not 93 like the protagonist. Oh well.

I have a huge craving to play Dar Williams on my ukulele. But I left it at Ron's house. Oops.

Peace out, mofos.

EARRRRRRRRRTHQUAAAAAAAAAAAAKE.
5.4 on the scale.
Ridiculous.

A well thought out research paper by Kinzie Cornell.
(Oh wait, I don't know how to do one of those... Wah wahhhh.)

I have an awkward sunburn consisting of a little patch on the back of my neck, a patch on my left ankle, and the top of my right hand. I don't get it but it's a bit uncomfortable. Not to mention funny looking.

George Sand's autobiography, comprised of a bunch of letters she wrote some peeps, mostly her mom, is entitled: "Story of My Life." Terrible. And so so good.

One of Jackye's friends is at Paradiso right now too. But I only know her because of how much I've facebook creeped Jackye. I'm a bit of a sad pup. But it's wasted energy, I suppose. Ah well.

I like my green pen from the deaf guy that was used by the crazy ladies at Panera on Monday. Is it weird that that's what's keeping me going? I guess that's the story of my life. HA. Oops. Nice work, Kinzie.

I am stressing about subletting, which is funny because I actually found someone. Problems and feelings. That's what I got goin' on.

I'm going to eat a grapple now.

I regretfully admit that Alfred Jarry has caused me to LOL.

He's actually pretty funny. Perhaps for my paper, I can do a compare/contrast of Alfred Jarry and Alf and their iconic influences/similar appearances.

just the tip of tips.

Last night I dreamed that Tom Mitchell came to hang out with us but I was taking a nap and so I woke up and was wearing a sun dress and he said, "Kinzie, that's inappropriate for the weather" and I said, "Silly Tom, it's 60 outside!" and he said, "Yes, Kinzie, I know. But it's also snowing." And then I looked out the window and there was half a foot of snow on the ground and it was still going strong. So I told Eleni that it didn't matter; I would just wear my pink snow boots -- they match my dress anyways!

Yep.

I have a paper to write. Oops. Wine to the rescue!

ALFRED JARRY IS BAD.

I hate Alfred Jarry. He's gross and stupid. And I'm writing a ten-page paper on him. Bye!!