This popped up while I was eating.
There really is no purpose behind this video except to say that 30 rock makes me laugh so hard. There are several TV shows that I constantly turn back to, and 30 Rock is one of them.
I'm weird. I'll admit it. I super-duper like cleaning. For whatever reason I actually live like an absolute slob, which necessitates that I spend an hour or two several times a week (or even one mega-long day) cleaning as if company is about to come over, and i don't want them to think that I'm too poor to afford staffing an entire kitchen staff, several maids, a butler, and a valet (not a valet, like the guy who parks your car, but rather a valet, like the guy who helps you get dressed).
Obviously, this is a habit that B and S (oh, S. is the new roommate. he just moved in a month ago, and i'm sure I'll be posting some stories about him in a bit. Until recently he has been able to pretend to be normal, but one can only hold up that facade for so long before the inner crazy needs to break free. I don't know what is going to happen, but I'm going to guess it will be sleep walking....ohhhh or fight club. I'll put $5 down that he tries to start fight club...in our apartment) appreciate. It means that they essentially have a servant who takes care of their house for them. This coupled with my insane need to cook soup-kitchen amounts of food means that neither of them has had to cook or clean in a while.
It is essentially the plot of an e card someone sent me. My diet plan is to make everyone else fat by comparison to me so that I look skinny. Mission accomplished.
Anyway, while engaging in my crazy cooking and cleaning rituals I often watch 30 rock. I don't actually watch it, but it is noise in the background. Furthermore, it is less depressing than news, more hilarious than late night, and less repetitive than music. All-in-all, I'ld say it is a pleasant way to fill silence.
I just realized that it has been super long since I've posted an adventure.
Well, in my defense I basically live like a member of the geriatric community, and haven't had dinner past 4 pm in over two months. I have been going to the gym. a lot. still. and I don't feel any stronger.
But hey, that isn't why one goes to the gym. If I wanted to look like I just crawled out of a hot tub on the jersey shore then I would find some "supplement" to do all the work for me. I go to the gym for two reasons: 1) my cholesterol would be through the rough, as would my weight, and my skin would be a pasty white, with acne all over it. Therefore the gym simply works to even out my terrible eating habits, and not actually get me to be an abs model. ANNNND 2) it is really the only time I socialize with people. Who knew that so many people go to the gym at 6 am? I most certainly didn't, and so far I've even started making friends.
Unfortunately a gym is a terrible microcosm of American society (How meta-meta did I sound right there?). One citizen that B and I have run into while at the gym is the stalker.
The stalker is an overly villianized member of American society. Without them, how would we know what constitutes inappropriate action? Without them, would we know that it is rude to stare at someone with your mouth open, while breathing heavily? No, no we would not, because no one else would do that, and so we'd all just sit around wondering whether or not such action would make others feel awkward. Furthermore, without stalkers we wouldn't know who is beautiful, and who is not. Look on the bright side, if you have a stalker then it means that someone thinks you're good looking enough to ignore 2000 years of social and evolutionary mores just to let you know how much they care.
See, I'm just spinning the negative into a positive. So thanks, to my stalker, who tirelessly works to remind me that the measly weight I'm using on my bicep curl is actually remarkable, and extraordinary, and fascinating enough to sit and watch for twenty minutes without blinking, moving, or producing any other sign of life. While it might have scared me at first, I know realize that it is just a compliment.
no really. It is not a compliment. it is awkward, and slightly terrifying.
in conclusion, is anyone else as happy about Les Mis as I am? it looks amazing. Way to go Anne hathaway, this might make me not be so sick of you.
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