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WEEKEND ROUND-UP.
May. 22nd, 2012 04:58 pmHaven't done one of these in quite a while. It should be good writing practice for me, especially as it was quite the busy weekend.
Friday night was the annual SPN finale party. Amanda and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lucifrix came down and we went to dinner at Longhorn Steakhouse before heading back to my house to dig through each other's giveaway clothes. Amanda and I have been doing this for years . . . before we donate anything to Goodwill, we each take a crack at each other's stuff. The first year we did it, I'd gone up a size and she'd gone down, so we basically just traded wardrobes-- well, except for trousers, because she's five-seven and I'm . . . totally not. The following year, we ended up trading back again.
I think there's one top in particular that has migrated between us about six times already.
Anyway, since Diane is tall too, Amanda finally has someone to whom she can pass on all her jeans and pants. Diane loves it because it means not actually having to set foot in a store and shopping ( the horror! ), and also . . . nothing free is ever bad. I think it's awesome not least because it means less packing and hauling of bags, and also because I've always loved hand-me-downs. There's something about knowing that my stuff is going to a good home-- and more than that, knowing the home to which it goes-- that I really enjoy. I love seeing Amanda or Diane in something that's come out of my closet and knowing for a fact that they're enjoying it, instead of passing it off to a thrift store and just hoping for the best.
We were very close to just bagging the whole idea of watching SPN afterwards, since it was one in the morning and we were all exhausted, but hey! What was another hour at that point?
It was weird, though . . . when the episode ended, we all looked at each other and asked, "What just happened?"
I can't put my finger on anything in particular, it's just a general feeling of lack of cohesion, lack of resolution. I suspect that the writers were all locked in a room for seventy-two hours straight, mainlining coffee and screeching, "Whaddya mean, IT'S NOT THE END OF THE SERIES?!?!?!?"
Like they were grasping at straws, trying to figure out how to prep for a last-minute decision to create a Season 8.
Granted, I'm behind by a couple of episodes, so that certainly may have had something to do with the feeling of disconnection, but I guess we'll see once I've caught up on the season.
Amanda texted me at quarter to three to let me know she made it home, and I turned out my light and settled down in bed . . . only to hear, five minutes later, the distinctive sounds of Stoli retching in a corner.
I turned on the light, sighed, and got up to deal with the mess, thinking as I did so, "How is this my life?"
Seriously.
I remember when being up at 3am meant a hot date or an awesome party, not CLEANING UP DOG PUKE.
( Rest of the weekend under the cut.... )
And so that, dear friends, was my weekend. More or less.
Friday night was the annual SPN finale party. Amanda and
lucifrix came down and we went to dinner at Longhorn Steakhouse before heading back to my house to dig through each other's giveaway clothes. Amanda and I have been doing this for years . . . before we donate anything to Goodwill, we each take a crack at each other's stuff. The first year we did it, I'd gone up a size and she'd gone down, so we basically just traded wardrobes-- well, except for trousers, because she's five-seven and I'm . . . totally not. The following year, we ended up trading back again.I think there's one top in particular that has migrated between us about six times already.
Anyway, since Diane is tall too, Amanda finally has someone to whom she can pass on all her jeans and pants. Diane loves it because it means not actually having to set foot in a store and shopping ( the horror! ), and also . . . nothing free is ever bad. I think it's awesome not least because it means less packing and hauling of bags, and also because I've always loved hand-me-downs. There's something about knowing that my stuff is going to a good home-- and more than that, knowing the home to which it goes-- that I really enjoy. I love seeing Amanda or Diane in something that's come out of my closet and knowing for a fact that they're enjoying it, instead of passing it off to a thrift store and just hoping for the best.
We were very close to just bagging the whole idea of watching SPN afterwards, since it was one in the morning and we were all exhausted, but hey! What was another hour at that point?
It was weird, though . . . when the episode ended, we all looked at each other and asked, "What just happened?"
I can't put my finger on anything in particular, it's just a general feeling of lack of cohesion, lack of resolution. I suspect that the writers were all locked in a room for seventy-two hours straight, mainlining coffee and screeching, "Whaddya mean, IT'S NOT THE END OF THE SERIES?!?!?!?"
Like they were grasping at straws, trying to figure out how to prep for a last-minute decision to create a Season 8.
Granted, I'm behind by a couple of episodes, so that certainly may have had something to do with the feeling of disconnection, but I guess we'll see once I've caught up on the season.
Amanda texted me at quarter to three to let me know she made it home, and I turned out my light and settled down in bed . . . only to hear, five minutes later, the distinctive sounds of Stoli retching in a corner.
I turned on the light, sighed, and got up to deal with the mess, thinking as I did so, "How is this my life?"
Seriously.
I remember when being up at 3am meant a hot date or an awesome party, not CLEANING UP DOG PUKE.
( Rest of the weekend under the cut.... )
And so that, dear friends, was my weekend. More or less.
