Bleh. I'm up entirely too early (check time of post), and apparently I really damaged the cuticle on one of my fingers because it hurts and there's old clotted blood there. Ewww. And I think I might still be drunk, but Nobody Else Is Up Yet and I Want Eggs Benedict now.
Yes, I am a bossy little five-year-old.
It all started last night (okay, really, I've always been this way. But last night's events started..) when we decided to go to the movies. *I* wanted to see either Stuck on You or Something's Gotta Give but everyone else who was going to the movies wanted to see Intolerable Cruelty (which I had already seen) at the $1.99 movie theatre that apparently smells like urine. And like hell I wanted to go there. But! Luckily the movie wasn't playing, so I put a plug in for either of the other two movies and of course ended up getting my way (Something's Gotta Give - it was absolutely hilarious, by the way, and totally recommended). Apparently it was quite amusing that I chanted "I win I win!" all the way to the movie theatres - good thing only Steph was with me. The sad thing is, I didn't even really realise I was saying it, she had to point it out to me. It really wasn't a competition. She also threw in, as I noted on the ickiness of some sketchy motel as we drove by, that "I feel like a proletariat next to you."
Then the true diva-ness started. A friend was having a party, and I declared (very loudly, in the movie theatre), "I'm not gonna drink beer." So after picking up a couple magnums of wine, returned with Steph to my apartment and decided that what I was wearing simply wouldn't work (which was, a tank top and jeans). Keep in mind that nobody ever gets dressed up in this med school, but Steph aptly pointed out, "People expect you to dress up." Now, see, what does that say to you? That I'm a royal pain in the ass? If that's what you thought, you're damn right. So I trotted out my new BCBG top, applied makeup (again, going way overboard for a med school party where people haven't even heard of makeup, you'd think we lived in the midwest or Alaska) and off we went.
The two magnums made a big splash. Or, more like, "sonofabitch, she's too good to drink beer?" (The answer to that is yes.) But then, because I was wildly overdressed (jeans and a cute top, and I was over-dressed? Geeze) I wouldn't take off my coat until after 4 or so glasses of wine, preferring to look like a little snot who was too good to stay very long. Finally, however, I gave Steph my coat and made her wade through the throng of people to put it away.
The rest of the night is pretty much a blur, but there are some highlights. Me finally getting to talk to an old friend, who I might or might not have slept with last year (that's right, while I was dating crankypants, I am a wench too) who then got a girlfriend and proceeded to be too involved with her to talk to me for an entire year. That, and somehow she knew about us, even though I was actually discreet for once and didn't talk about it to anyone in med school. The entire conversation essentially went like this, though.
No, it was much better than that, and hopefully he won't be a ratbastard and proceed to now not talk to me for another year. We really wouldn't have worked out, I'm too high maintenance for him and he would have ended up smacking me, which I probably deserve. Crankypants is much better suited to my high strung ways.
There are also many pictures on my digital camera that I don't remember being taken, that's always lots of fun. Probably because I delegated the picture-taking to someone else because I was too busy yammering away, and picture-taking would involve me mingling with too many people I didn't feel like talking to.
Oh, and after pouring my first drink - oh, who am I kidding. I looked at the bottles of wine, decided I was too lazy to open them and gave the corkscrew to someone else. And then I proceeded to ask someone else - anyone - to pour me drinks anytime my glass was more than half-empty. Because I wasn't going to be lifting anything, no sirree, not me. And somehow I just radiate brattiness - I just met my friend's new boyfriend, yet somehow he knew that I wasn't a public transportation sort of person and I'm glad he felt comfortable enough teasing me about it, yet still! How do I radiate the "I don't know what buses are for" aura so well?
And the night ended with me proclaiming that I was much too drunk to drive, and handing my keys over to Steph to make her drive me home. Poor her. I wonder why she puts up with me.
And now, all I want are freaking eggs benedict and nobody is up, so I'm slowly working my way through a box of microwaveable chicken nuggets. And I probably should lie down, all this sitting up isn't good for me. Plus, lying down, I can attempt to palpate my liver - if you can feel it, it means its cirrhosed. I swear I feel something in that region..
Yes, I am a bossy little five-year-old.
It all started last night (okay, really, I've always been this way. But last night's events started..) when we decided to go to the movies. *I* wanted to see either Stuck on You or Something's Gotta Give but everyone else who was going to the movies wanted to see Intolerable Cruelty (which I had already seen) at the $1.99 movie theatre that apparently smells like urine. And like hell I wanted to go there. But! Luckily the movie wasn't playing, so I put a plug in for either of the other two movies and of course ended up getting my way (Something's Gotta Give - it was absolutely hilarious, by the way, and totally recommended). Apparently it was quite amusing that I chanted "I win I win!" all the way to the movie theatres - good thing only Steph was with me. The sad thing is, I didn't even really realise I was saying it, she had to point it out to me. It really wasn't a competition. She also threw in, as I noted on the ickiness of some sketchy motel as we drove by, that "I feel like a proletariat next to you."
Then the true diva-ness started. A friend was having a party, and I declared (very loudly, in the movie theatre), "I'm not gonna drink beer." So after picking up a couple magnums of wine, returned with Steph to my apartment and decided that what I was wearing simply wouldn't work (which was, a tank top and jeans). Keep in mind that nobody ever gets dressed up in this med school, but Steph aptly pointed out, "People expect you to dress up." Now, see, what does that say to you? That I'm a royal pain in the ass? If that's what you thought, you're damn right. So I trotted out my new BCBG top, applied makeup (again, going way overboard for a med school party where people haven't even heard of makeup, you'd think we lived in the midwest or Alaska) and off we went.
The two magnums made a big splash. Or, more like, "sonofabitch, she's too good to drink beer?" (The answer to that is yes.) But then, because I was wildly overdressed (jeans and a cute top, and I was over-dressed? Geeze) I wouldn't take off my coat until after 4 or so glasses of wine, preferring to look like a little snot who was too good to stay very long. Finally, however, I gave Steph my coat and made her wade through the throng of people to put it away.
The rest of the night is pretty much a blur, but there are some highlights. Me finally getting to talk to an old friend, who I might or might not have slept with last year (that's right, while I was dating crankypants, I am a wench too) who then got a girlfriend and proceeded to be too involved with her to talk to me for an entire year. That, and somehow she knew about us, even though I was actually discreet for once and didn't talk about it to anyone in med school. The entire conversation essentially went like this, though.
Me: You're an asshole.
Him: It goes both ways.
Me: No, really, it's all your fault.
Him: Okay, fine, I'm an ass.
No, it was much better than that, and hopefully he won't be a ratbastard and proceed to now not talk to me for another year. We really wouldn't have worked out, I'm too high maintenance for him and he would have ended up smacking me, which I probably deserve. Crankypants is much better suited to my high strung ways.
There are also many pictures on my digital camera that I don't remember being taken, that's always lots of fun. Probably because I delegated the picture-taking to someone else because I was too busy yammering away, and picture-taking would involve me mingling with too many people I didn't feel like talking to.
Oh, and after pouring my first drink - oh, who am I kidding. I looked at the bottles of wine, decided I was too lazy to open them and gave the corkscrew to someone else. And then I proceeded to ask someone else - anyone - to pour me drinks anytime my glass was more than half-empty. Because I wasn't going to be lifting anything, no sirree, not me. And somehow I just radiate brattiness - I just met my friend's new boyfriend, yet somehow he knew that I wasn't a public transportation sort of person and I'm glad he felt comfortable enough teasing me about it, yet still! How do I radiate the "I don't know what buses are for" aura so well?
And the night ended with me proclaiming that I was much too drunk to drive, and handing my keys over to Steph to make her drive me home. Poor her. I wonder why she puts up with me.
And now, all I want are freaking eggs benedict and nobody is up, so I'm slowly working my way through a box of microwaveable chicken nuggets. And I probably should lie down, all this sitting up isn't good for me. Plus, lying down, I can attempt to palpate my liver - if you can feel it, it means its cirrhosed. I swear I feel something in that region..
posted at 11:06
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