SwankFest '10

Since I've been attempting homework for the past several hours and have still only composed two more sentences for my assigned analysis of Roger Ebert's writing style, I figured I'd post on here instead of keep trying. Man, what a decade it's been. All ten days of it. I mean, what began among a mass of drunken Portlanders all screaming at the top of their lungs in the basement of the super-savvy Doug Fir (see picture below) has since devolved into a life-or-death scenario in which I must must must escape the filth-laden, driven-less cesspool that is my roommates' and I's big yellow house on 19th and Harris in Eugene, Oregon... Colonel Mustard, for short.


^^ NOT Colonel Mustard^^

I feel my attempts to escape won't pan out, mostly because both Chris and Josh are literally too worthless to clean the house - which I refuse to do again - and therefore any responders to my Craigslist ad - who, themselves, would have to be really, really stupid to reply to a posting for a single bedroom that now costs $525 monthly - definitely aren't going to be okay with the moldy dishes in the kitchen, the matted hair on the bathroom counter, the blanket of pine needles that crunch beneath one's feet when walking across the living room.

And so I'll sit here, angry for another six months. Yelling doesn't work. Neither does silent pacifism. It's more or less a no-win situation, this one.

My current glimmers of hope: LOST still premiering on February 2nd (despite a close-call rescheduling by that pesky Obama Administration), a trip to Bend next weekend during my FOUR days off school, and Simone visiting at the end of the month! Yeehaw!

Previous glimmers of hope that didn't pan out: Seeing Avatar this past Saturday. We arrived over an hour early (which puts us somewhere in the 1, 1:15 vicinity) and every showtime was sold out until 10:30 pm... except for at the multiplex in Springfield, where - as the box office guy told us over the phone - 12 tickets remained for an afternoon showing. Well, we raced across the city (along with, like, seven similar-minded minivans in tow) only to be foiled again: by the time we ran inside, sweaty and breathless, one ticket remained.

Such is life in this, the newest of decades.