Several items this morning:
I meant to go to a concert last night at the Empty Bottle, but instead fell asleep at 9:30.
Oops. And lame.
I downloaded the new Kelly Clarkson song, despite telling myself I would not, could not because she endorsed Ron Paul and I found it outrageous and horrifying.
I took a stand.
And then somehow it made it on my iPad.
Apparently I feel it’s important to confess my guilty feelings to the crowd.
Today is my baby brother Mikie’s 21st birthday, which means the Palluzzis have officially all become alcohol-served adults.
This is a frightening prospect, if you ask me.
Watch out world.
In honor of aforementioned birthday, I’m headed to the suburbs this evening for a celebration dinner. I’ve also brought an overnight bag, circa 1994, just in case this storm really gets underway and I’m stuck outside of the city limits for the night.
I’m preemptively pulling on my snow boots, so this better not be nature’s ploy to get us to haul out our winter gear for no good reason.
I have finished up 1776, and before turning to my 800 volume on President Grant, I’m reading a book about witches. And vampires. And daemons.
And I’m only on page 30, so who knows what else is in store for me.
JW and I had perhaps our longest, most in depth conversation this week at 6 this morning when he got back from the gym and I was headed out to hit up the Y.
“This is weird,” he said.
I just kept talking, although I’m not sure I covered anything coherent.
It’s time for the weekend, by my account.
And now, chickens, it’s off to work to see if this storm materializes.