I am genetically predisposed to the crazy. But instead of measuring icicles or sitting in the back of church I go crazy about school. Imagine my dismay when my term paper was not returned today as promised and I still have no idea about 40% of my grade.
Then imagine my dismay when I realized that it was ten-thirty on a Thursday night and I still hadn't done the stuff I made myself do today. This happens every Thursday. I make a list of stuff that absolutely has to be finished, and then ignore it until late at night. Grrr. But now I have a finished Cold War essay and flashcards for three different glasses. Including two separate ones for Nasser for two different classes. So should you need to know Nasser's significance from either a British Imperialistic standpoint or that of the Cold War relations in the Middle East, I'm your girl.
Anyway, the reason I didn't do the flashcards or essay earlier was that I rented Infamous from the library. You know, the other Capote movie. The one that everyone involved whined about how it got shafted because it came out a year after Capote and that's why nobody watched it.
Um. No. No one watched it because Capote was much better and this one kind of sucked. It has Sandra Bullock. I like her. But other than that, sucked.
I rented it because Lee Pace played Dick Hickcock, and yeah, Lee should never ever cut his hair like that again. So totally not a good idea. In fact, he should just dress and talk like Ned for the rest of his life. And move to Milwaukee and live in a comfortably sexless marriage with me and maybe one day he'll decide he's straight.
*sigh* Although I'm not sure the Pushing Daisies money is enough to pay off my student loans. It got cancelled awfully fast.
Oh. Capital punishment. Right. Obviously, the movie was about the writing of In Cold Blood, and it ends with the hanging of the two killers. Which upsets me greatly. I had to fast forward. My political position aside (which has kind of devolved into a disgusted "Really? REALLY!?!?!"), the actual act of capital punishment freaks me out. I can watch CSI all day long. Hell, I read In Cold Blood and loved it (well, okay. I was convinced they were coming for me for like a month, but I digress). But every time I see or read about or think about putting someone to death I literally feel sick to my stomach. In high school I had to research Timothy McVeigh's execution for some project and I've blocked it out of my mind so much that I don't even remember what school I was at.
So it should be outlawed just so it can stop making me ill.
Finally- heels! I went to Target this afternoon, as I am wont to do, oh, every day. Imladris was with me and doing a little Christmas shopping and I was killing time in the shoe department. And what did I find but fantastic five-inch peep-toe pumps with an adorable little strap on clearance? For $7.49??? Except they only had a 6 and a 10. A 6 was clearly not going to go on. I tried dammit, but it didn't work. So we went with the 10. I'm an 8.
Thank God it has a strap and my feet are permanently swollen from the treachery of UWM and their refusal to buy road salt (I'm writing "For Salt" on the memo line of my next tuition check), and it's probably a good thing that my toes don't really reach the end, as it is winter. So if you'd like a really amusing sight, come over and watch me stumble around in five-inch heels that are two sizes to big for me but OH SO ADORABLE.
I'm off to watch a History Channel docudrama about the Holy Family. It should be laughably inaccurate. I'm looking forward to it.