It's The End of The World as We Know It ... And I Feel Kinda Meh

So I went to see REM at MSG last Thursday with my awesome friend Gary. Other people wrote about it at the Murmurs message board, so you can rock that for details if you really want 'em. Blah blah, they opened with It's the End of the World As We Know It and Stipe took his pants down during the encore songs, but mostly I was in a state of REM-induced ecstasy and Gary kept providing champagne and it was a little bit blissfully blurry.

And then we went to afterparty which was actually at the restaurant thing (?) at MSG and it was sucky and I talked to Scott and he said that he and Ken would be at a bar downtown, so Gary and I went down there instead. Although I had enough time to once again surrender my dignity to Mike Mills and to go "BLuuuuurgh, Anderson Cooper, thanks for being part of vh1's Big in 04, blurrrrgh." And then Gary and I went downtown and ran into Eugene, who's also buddies with Scott, and I became inordinately inebriated in an attempt to pretend I was living in happier times and I am pretty sure I humiliated myself. And I know I had funny marks on my neck on Friday.

Yeah. So, then. Friday was pretty hard to handle, and poor Kristin had to deal with me getting excessively giddy (as I am wont to do when I'm overwhelmed) and I fell into nearly-hysterical puddles of giggles throughout the day about the following subjects:
* OH MY GOSS!
Once, Kristin and I were working on a spot and I started talking about my childhood speech impediments. I had all of them (couldn't handle R's or L's), basically, but a unique and almost endearing feature was my inability to pronounce initial 's' sounds and my consequential behavior: i just pretended they weren't there. So "I smell smoke" became "I 'mell 'moke!" And, "Look, a snake!" became "Wook, a 'nake!" I had to spend a lot of time playing "Repeat," in which I had to attempt to repeat and pronouce words correctly, and I apparently used to spend car-rides drawing my parkahood around my head and singing, "Oh my goss, I hiding in me hood!"

Now, to this day, I really like putting things on my head, a habit that I imagine dates back to the hood hiding era. But, more importantly, I'd like to introduce the world to the phrase "Oh my goss." Just say it out loud. Doesn't that feel awesome? Kristin and I were saying it in little girl voices, and then we worked it into our regular conversation, but then our editor Ray said it ... and Ray's "Oh my goss" was transplendent goodness.

{I also used to call cartoons 'raccoons,' and an oft-recited fambly tale concerns my anger at the television when we couldn't find the 'raccoon raccoon' (a cartoon about raccoons, natch) that I wanted to watch, and I became quite livid).

*PAGINAS
Okay, so I stupidly studied French in high school because I thought it would come in handy for my eventual philosophy major (Whoops) and so I took French even though most of my classmates took Spanish (which would have been a far wiser choice.) And my 8th grade French class was in the same classroom as a Spanish class that immediately preceded it, and everyday I'd sit in French class as Mme Salzman erased the Spanish on the board, and the board would always say something like "Pagina 16."
And so one day in Algebra, I asked a Spanish-studying friend if it was embarassing to always ask the Senora about the "Paginas" (rhymes with vaginas.) And they all laughed and laughed and laughed.
Que paginas (rhymes with vaginas)?

(In college, my friend Eric used to like to order Oranginas (rhymes with vaginas) at WesWings).

* A ROUGHIE-TOUGHIE
Last week, I described a particularly bad day as a "roughie-toughie." I'd really like people to start using that expression, if you please.
I'd also like to advocate use of the expressions:
"Now that's what I'm rockin' about" (courtesy of Mike)
and
"I like the cut of his jibe" (courtesy of Kelly)

(furthermore, for all you engineers and editors who refer to the need to finish at a particular time as having a 'hard out' {as in, "we can't work late, I've got a hard out at 6"} I'd like you, from this point forward, to refer to this particular circumstances as having a 'raging hard out.' Please. It would really amuse me to no end>
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Friday night, despite near-exhaustion, I went to Hammermania's gallery opening at Chashama (217 East 42, between 2nd and 3rd). The exhibition is pretty neat and you can see me hanging on the wall in a really cool multiple exposure that Andrew shot. And you can buy me for a lot of money. The photo thereof, that is. I'm pretty cheap.

And then we (me and josh 'n' the gang) went to Julep where we met up with some awesome ol' college buddies (greg and parr and nate)and tried to break the high score of the bar's erotic photohunt, but to no avail. a man told me I was hot and then slipped me his business card by using the maitre d' handshake. it was rather fucking entertaining, at the time, and we amused ourselves by slipping each other the dude's business card all night.

Saturday, Aaron and Claire came over and we went to see Sideways, which made me feel very old and grownup and existentially depressed, and it also really made me want a motherfucking glass of wine.

Today I watched Dirty Dancing, on which I will write an exegesis either tonight or tomorrow. And I had dinner with Manz, whom I haven't seen in far too long.

And hey, I'm listening to my old Bare Naked Ladies albums (just the first three, then I stopped liking 'em). I like the nostalgic rush that songs like "Brian Wilson" give me.

I want to Dirty Dance with the staff kids so fucking bad, it slays me.