Well, it's my day off (and a certain arse's birthday) so how am I spending it? Why, by making a lot of food and watching daytime television!
The food was croque monsieurs, a traditional French dish that is essentially a cross between a sandwich and French toast that is baked with cheese. Awesomeness was enjoyed by all.
As for the daytime tele, I just watched my first full episode of So You Think You Can Dance, an elimation episode at that and I will fully admit to all the world that by the end of it, I was openly weeping. I am reeeeeally not a reality show guy and a big part of that is the ego present on these shows, but these kids seemed so nice! First of all, no one on that show is conventionally beautiful. Would guy looks like the offspring of a tin soldier and a meerkat, ergo I would totally hit it. (In searching for that link, I went on the show's website and discovered that the competition is, in fact, already over. Meh. Fuck it; the tears are real.) Also, they just all seemed so overwhelmed to be there, like in the back of their minds they didn't really think they were deserving (musicalschoolsaywhat?). And then when the gorgeous little black girl and the ambiguously-sexualized white boy (Methodist) were sent packing, the tears! Oh the tears, how they came! And when the credits rolled and the funky music that signals the cast to start peacocking around the stage began, they instead rushed to the eliminated two and started crying too! And THEN when each of their dance partners got to them and they looked at each other and did the whole It-hurts-so-much-I-have-to-close-my-eyes hug...well, Vamos lost his shit.
That crew (can I say crew? NCAA ruling?) completely reminded me of my music school peeps in the first 2-3 years of our degree. Instead of being all backstabby and bitchy, the girls practically got on the same cycle. Instead of being all macho and standoffish the guys...well, we ate a lot of pie together. (I mean, it's not like we were out getting bro massages together *cough*Class of '10*cough*) Can you imagine if one of us was kicked off at the end of each semester? If at juries, instead of singing for marks, we were "singing for our lives!"? They would line us all up at the end of April and the vocal faculty would cut us down while our families sat in Eva Clare Hall with glitter signs.
Laura would so be the stuffy British one.