I am typing this sitting in the Liberty Square parking lot, cold in my long-sleeve t-shirt and its only August, my shoes are missing and my legs are under a car, my back is up against a railing, there is a cheetah blanket on my lap and I don't know who it belongs to, and some guy is sitting in front of me talking about his mission in El Salvador that apparently ended less than a week ago. At 6:45 AM. Katy Perry could write songs about my life.
Last night was undoubtably the longest and most uncomfortable night of my life. I got maybe 40 entire, but not consecutive, minutes of sleep. My eyelids are so puffy-feeling that I've convinced myself I cried myself to sleep. What I'm positive I did was: watch the Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. What. The Crap. Let's be real: even if I was Heath Ledger, if I was stuck making that movie, I might also happen illegally upon a toxic combination of drugs that could very possibly terminate my life, and that movie, for the good of mankind. Unfortunately, Gwilliam worked around that. I literally had to pull up Wikipedia half-way through the movie just to see if I was understanding everything right.
Unbelievably bad movie plus bad really really super terrible worst ever situation equals grumpy, lumpy, ready-for-this-to-be-over-and-if-I-do-not-get-a-parking-pass-I'm-going-to-cut-someone Madi.
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