Obama, yo mama.
Happy Valentine’s Day, loyal followers. This is the one day of the year that I’m really thankful for being single. The amount of pressure that some girls create for Valentine’s Day is ridiculous. Still, I hope people were able to enjoy it.
Barack Obama is coming to speak at UT next Friday (2/23), which should be interesting. I’m gonna try to attend, if I can get out of work a bit early. If you are interested in tickets, go to www.barackobama.com and click on the upcoming event in Austin. They send you a crappy little email that says “THIS IS YOUR E*TICKET”. You can print the ticket out a hundred times if you want, so it’s really not going to guarantee you anything. They’re expecting over 5000 people, so I’d imagine the line will start forming a few hours before the speech. I’m hoping to work the event with the SEC, and therefore bypass all of the hassle.
Random Fact of the Day (sponsored by GOV370L: Politics of Hollywood): The Writers Guild of America strike of 1988 struck fear into the hearts of the unions, leading to the process of continuous bargaining, in which the unions constantly re-examine their contracts in advance so they can agree on the terms of their new contracts before the old ones expire.
Kids from my Politics of Hollywood class keep emailing the listserv asking for notes and answers, and my teacher finally wrote an email saying, “Some of you may not know that I get all the emails you send to each other on Blackboard, offering to exchange notes, etc.” I wish the listserv acted in such a way that everytime you send out a mass email, one point is subtracted from your final grade in the class. This would keep “Betsy with one student ticket to the OU game” and “Brad who can’t make it to class three weeks in a row” from flooding my email box with crap.
I’m starting to wonder if Quentin Tarantino is ever going to release a special edition of Kill Bill. I watched the special features on Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction today, and I’d love for them to do a similar release for Bill. My favorite part of the Pulp Fiction DVD was the footage of Tarantino and cast winning the Palme D’Or at Cannes. The stage, and whole ceremony, is gloriously pretentious. I think Brandon should translate his BMAs into French, along with English, in order to achieve a similar effect.
I want to finish decorating my room (with pictures and art) sometime in the next few weeks. Any volunteer interior decorators will be rewarded with food and/or sexual favors.
I’ve realized I’m terrible about giving gifts promptly. I think my average delay/gift is around 2-3 months. In my defense, however, I very rarely go shopping. Anyway, if you want your gift on time, I recommend contacting me three months before your birthday/anniversary/marriage and letting me know. Speaking of late gifts: Veronica, I have yours! Leahanne, I don’t have yours!
The photo collage that Brandon created in College Station is truly incredible. If the Perfects were Islamic, it would be our Mecca. I highly recommend that everyone see it as soon as they can.
That’s all for today. I’d put pictures on, but it’s too late and I need to study for my test. Next time, I promise!
Arrested. Development, that is. The weekend started off with the last two hours of greatness the FOX network will ever see. This weekend one of the greatest shows of our lifetime came to an end, and a rather closed end. After watching the final episode, which concluded everything so well (while also mirroring the first episode), I don’t know where they would be able to go if they brought it back on Showtime. I’m sure they could think of something, and it’d be just as hilarious as always but it would be a challenge. Unlike everyone in College Station, the Austinites weren’t cool enough to dress up/be creative for the finale. After it was over, I locked myself in my room and watched season one episodes for the rest of the night. I have yet to not laugh anytime a) GOB appears on his Segway or b) Buster says, “heeeyy brother.”
the past week, now. Saturday morning I got an early start at 1:15, and proceeded to sit around my apartment until heading off to La Madeline at 4:00. I find it funny that they have a “The La Madeline Gift Card”. Anyone who know anything has learned that la is French for “the” while traveling abroad with their entourage. Regardless, I called the check out boy ignorant and demanded free bread, which they gave me. After becoming less cultured from my experience with Freedom cuisine, we headed off to the library for three unproductive hours of eating candy.
while they prepared for the party. By 9:15 I started drinking, and by 9:45 I was practically drunk. Some people say it’s a little tasteless to get drunk before breakfast, but I just make some obscene gesture at them and take another jello shot. I lead a very fulfilling life. Anyway, I don’t remember much about the party, but I spent a lot of time out on the balcony talking to various people. One of the kids that came to the party was actually named Rambo. I thought this was the coolest thing to happen to the world since my birth, and obsessively questioned him about it for at least five minutes before losing interest in favor of another drink. 
as a black guy in a police uniform waving a flashlight around. To me, this man was one of three things: a) one of the strippers we hired b) one of the Village People, looking to party or c) a very angry, very sober police officer. Fortunately, it was b. However, it turns out that after the Village People went out of fashion he decided to actually become a cop in order to support his drug habit. Anyway, the cop (Quincy Jonesy to people that know him well) was very, very pissed off. He started yelling at everyone and proclaiming the party to be over. He demanded to know who actually lived in the apartment, and told everyone except for those people to leave. I would’ve loved to see the look on his face when everyone, including Veronica, Steph and Katie ran out of the apartment. We all went up to Joanna’s room for fifteen minutes before returning to the girls’ apartment after it was declared to be cop-free. 
ith about fifteen true partiers. There was still a ridiculous amount of alcohol left, and not nearly enough mouths to consume it all. Unfortunately, I had definitely had enough at that point and decided to stop drinking and go to bed. After realizing that Joanna’s apartment was not the best place to be staying (roommate + boyfriend visiting + no walls = very awkward), Joanna drove us back to my apartment where we ate Taco C and watched some AD before crashing.