So the prodigal son is moving home in a month or two. Which is good because he'll take some of the brunt of parenting off me, and I'll probably rarely see him, having a completely different schedule than the one he'll hopefully have. But it's also very BAD, because I'll have to share a bathroom again (you have no idea how many girly products I have strewn everywhere. I'd be sickened, but they're MINE), and I know that when I do see him, he's going to drive me batty.
I won't go into the whole saga of his drama--although, if you're curious, just stick around... I'll probably get super p.o.'d at him and spill all the beans in a big long rant EVENTUALLY--suffice it to say, it's going to be a rocky few months until I fly the coop. Speaking of which, I'm half-way to the financial goal that will signal that move-out time is nigh.
Listen to "Before You Leave" by Thrush Hermit. It's a little bit country at first (and also a little bit rock'n'roll, to be perfectly Osmondy about it), but it's another of Rob's reccomendations, and I just keep listening to it. The end reminds me of a Weezer song.
I was watching Zoolander for the umpteenth time the other night, and goddamn, that movie is good. Everytime I watch it, I start giggling helplessly at a different part. This time it was the line, "I've never even heard of it. Me and my friends have been too busy bathing off the coast of St Bart's with spider monkeys for the past two weeks." Hey, being easily amused is part of my charm, alright? Zoolander might possibly be more quotable than Anchorman.
Spending time with my best ladieZ tonight. Jo and I are heading to the Hammer to kidnap ourselves a Toni. Much giggling will be done, I assure you.
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