Hot Stuff

It's reached a staggering 97 degrees in the Happy Valley, and of course I was switched to line serving both french fries and steamed vegetables. I couldn't imagine a nastier, sweatier job. I kept getting blasted by hot steam from the underside of the bins. Not pleasant.

So, we finally found out what happened on Project Runway to warrent Tim Gunn kicking someone off the show. Turns out, it was for . . . harboring design books. It was a little lackluster. But I didn't like that guy anyway (he was the one last week who thought creating an outfit for his dog was 'below him'. Wow, way to miss the point of the show, dude).

I spent a significant amount of time last night removing all of the crap from my walls and subsequently detaping them, a rather obnoxious process that I didn't enjoy. I packed about a fourth of my dishes into nice tiny boxes to minimize breakage, and the whole task seems a lot more managable.

Kelsey and Hallie had to go to Pittsburgh for a funeral, and I didn't really want to go to the Death Cab concert by myself, since I'd probably end up in a corner somewhere with a scowl writing bad poetry. I called the ticket office, and they recommended that I just stand in the parking lot and scalp it. This really wasn't my favorite option, but whatever.

So I felt like a total prostitute. I had to go up to groups of emo folk and be all like "hey there, studs. Looking for a hot student ticket? I got just what you need." It was really awkward for a long time since everyone had a ticket until I finally found some wonderful soul who hadn't bought his yet. I thanked my stars that I could finally leave.