rien ne pèse tant
que un secret.

My buddy Joel's philosophy on successfully reading plays is to picture all the characters topless. We've moved on from The Spanish Tragedy (with a subtitle of "Hieronimo Gets Mad Again" which made me laugh so much Dr. Greenburg actually stopped his lecture and was staring at me with this goofy look on his face) to The Revenger's Tragedy. It's like the Elizabethan grindhouse type of thing and once I started picturing everyone topless, I couldn't really stop.

Now... Carlos and Kim have the habit of going to Ricky's house to play beer pong or to drink every other weekend. It doesn't bug me that they do it cause I know they can be smart about it (as smart as you can get when beer is involved) but there are times I really just want to point out how ridiculous it is. Gah.

I totally forgot where I was going with that.

Kim and I decided to go to her parents' house today to do what we used to do back in the old days: bake, watch horror movies and hang out. I missed it. We ended up trading stories on creepers we used to know and, for some reason, we got insanely philosophical about what vibes we get and what we feel when we meet people or go into certain places. I think it sprung from our trip to Bachelor's Grove a few weeks ago when it felt like someone was pushing down on my shoulders the entire time we were there.

Um. We made some ridiculously amazing brownies that we scarfed the moment they came out of the oven and watched Shrooms. Talk about a fucked-up movie that I somehow ended up liking. Weird.

Army-crawling, stealth, flashlights and lots of mental swearing were involved in getting my internet back up on Sunday.