Burnt Out.

Today was one of the worst cases of boredom I've suffered in quite some time.  It's my own fault.  I could have done SOMETHING of remote substance, but I opted not too.  I start my internship in the morning and figured I owed myself one final day of the winter-break wasteland.   These types of days typically consist of drinking V8, social-network-siting, aim, and occasionally daytime TV.  But if nothing's on TV, all my "buddies" have productive-sounding away messages, facebook is malfunctioning, and my tomato juice runs out...I run out.  This was today.  Not having a car I might add, is the real killer.  Otherwise I could do my nothing somewhere else, like Mike's house, where TBS runs more fluidly than water.  

By nightfall I needed out.  I walked a mile or so to the nearest starbucks.  With me, I brought a book I've been trying to read since July.  I purchased it for $3 at a used bookstore in Haight- Ashbury, a bookstore that prohibited cell phones.  And not because people were reading (this place was more like sifting through an attic space) but because the owner was battling the influx of technology.   I've picked it up four times, and each time I had to re-read everything I had forgotten.  But tonight I was determined.   I had to get past page 50.  The good parts couldn't be far off, right?  Wrong.  By page 90 (mind you the book is only 215 pages)  I was baffled.  Nothing interesting had happened yet!  The author spent 20 pages describing a bedroom.  The photos on the walls, the people in the photos on the walls, what the people in the photos on the walls were wearing.  I'm a big fan of description.  But there's description and there's just plain avoidance of plot progression.  For the first time in my life, I placed a book down on a table with no intention of ever opening it again.  A gust of triumph flew threw the doors of starbucks and sent a chill down the skin of my back.  Kazza!  I was better than the book.  I turned up my iPod and got lost somewhere else.

When I arrived back at the house, every window and door was open.  It was as if we were feeding the public tonight, and I was just about to join the party.  Unfortunately by the time I reached the stoop, I smelt the real party.  It was in the oven.  Burn chicken burn.  You'd think pizza would be on its way, but no.  In this house, the show really must go on (I say show purposefully).  I sat in the dining room, my eyes watering under a layer of smoke, as my dad, stepmom and brother decided which pieces of the chicken were salvageable. 

My favorite quote from the dinner table:

"Is that pepper or ash on my potato?"

Eventually supper ended and I was off to Game Night at Ricky's.  We played charades.  Andre, Jay, Mike, and I kicked ass.  I would go into more detail but I'm getting tired and I should be somewhat functional on my first day at work.  So that was todight for me.  I'm glad it ended a lot more energetically than it began.  Friends do that to us I guess.