ESPN Zone, Target, and the Failure of Vanity Fair

Days until Halloween: 17
Days until Omaha: 3

As much as I love waking up at 7am on weekdays and spending 9 hours fighting to stay awake and be productive at work, there's something very appealing about the weekend. I'm not sure if it's the fact that I can sleep in until noon, or the fact that I can wear my pajamas all day, or the fact that I an eat a tub of ice cream while watching an SVU Marathon on USA, but some happy combination of the three would probably explain it.

I started the weekend off by going to the ESPN Zone with Kristyn and Erin to watch the Sox game (Yeah Sox!!!!!!!!!!!) and have a few drinks to relax after another week feeling as though I'm pretending to be an adult and sooner or later, someone is going to catch on and send me back to school. I think I had the intention to go get dinner, have one or two drinks, and relax and watch the game, but somehow, 5 drinks, $70 and 4.5 hours later, any and all rational plans had somehow gone out the window. We had a terrifically inept waiter, but it worked out well because he seemed excited to have a bunch of young girls willing to shell out obscene amounts of money for an ever-increasing number of drinks, and he was super slow which meant we literally got to enjoy the entire game without him itching for us to get up and out.

$8 Patron Silver Margaritas = Life is Good

On Saturday, after waking up around noon and dragging ourselves out of bed (and Kristyn out of my air mattress, which she bravely slept on as none of us were in a position to drive her car), we made our way to Target, so I could bravely shell out a vast chunk of my paycheck to purchase several rolling carts, a cable, some mirrors, pillow cases, a bed sham, a brand spankin' new tv. I know, I know, I'm so frivolous with my money.

Upon getting home of course, I realized that the power cord on the tv is shot, which means it doesn't actually turn on. I think it's time to suck it up and purchase an outrageously expensive flat screen tv, telling myself all the while that it'll work much better than the cheaper tv, and trying not to cry myself to sleep when I realize I can't eat for the next two weeks. I guess nothing encourages a diet like having a negative balance in your checking account. Score!

Now you get to lug all 50 pounds of me back to Target!

Speaking of things that destroy tvs, this morning I went to Erin's to lavish her with the trash bags she'd requested, and got to catch the end of Vanity Fair. I can't tell you what the plot of the movie was, because I don't actually know what it was; I spent the entire time going "wait, what just happened?" It would seem that Reese Witherspoon's character liked society more than her family, but then lost her family, but then ended up in India, and all this stuff happened that never would've been allowed in early 19th century London, but happened anyway, because everyone loves Reese and let's just let her go wild, even though she doesn't fit the role at all. The only thing the movie had going for it was Jonathan Rhys Meyers, and he died like a pussy, so that pretty much ended any interest I had in the movie whatsoever.

I can't actually be cunning or manipulative or sexy

And that's pretty much it. The rest of my weekend has been spent puttering around my apartment, decorating and redecorating and then ripping my hair out and doing it all over again. It's been very therapeutic, in the fact that it's driving me into more intensive psychotherapy. I think I'll stay at Erin's for awhile and finish watching Red Dragon, so I can remind myself that there are people with more issues, and less freedom than I.

"The Tudors" is French for "I Should Have Sex With JRM and Henry Cavill"

I should have sex with Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Henry Cavill.

I don't really mind the mechanics behind it; Jon first, then Henry, or Henry first, or both at the same time, or with Natalie Dormer who plays Anne cause she could join too, whatevs, as long as there's none of that chick who plays the Mary-Margaret hybrid, I'm set, cause she's too frail and I'd snap her in half. I'm very powerful in bed, or so I've been told.

The great thing about Showtime, and about The Tudors, is that everyone's either waging war or getting buck wild, and really, isn't that the only way to live your life? Why wouldn't you want to be slicing and dicing with one hand, and getting laid with the other?

Yeah baby, I'm totally kicking Spain's ass for you

Never mind that the show completely butchers the history behind the story. So what if Catherine of Aragon was only 6 years older than Henry, and not 15? So what if Mary Boleyn was mistress for at least a few years (and probably birthed two king spawns), not ten minutes? And so what if the entirety of Henry's courting of Anne and Wosley's downfall and death and the entire Mary-Margaret-hybrid-off-kilter-timeline were all completely screwed up?

I get to look at this every episode:

Yeaaaah boy!

History holds no meaning for me if all I get is a picture of a fat old man with red hair and four chins. Give me live action washboard abs any day of the week, my friend. That's the great thing about premium cable: no one cares about the validity of the story, as long as it's chock full of naked people, delicious fornication, gay scandals, and lots of violence and bloodshed. Thank god we have The Tudors OnDemand at Erin's.

Oh, and Days Till Halloween: 28