What Kind of Day Has It Been

Just finished the entirety of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, the ending was much less sad than I expected it would be. Thank you, Aaron Sorkin and Tommy Schlamme, for making a sickeningly sweet happy ending, because yes, I am a girl, and if you had killed off Amanda Peet, I probably would have had to hunt you down and kill you both.

The thing that bothered me most about this entire series (also known as "single season") is that as I was watching it, I knew that this show was essentially about itself, in that Studio 60 was just too smart to be on the air. Oh, America.

What Kind of Day Has It Been

Is that a question, Mr. Sorkin? Well, here is my answer.

The day began with me begging Murph to let me watch the final 6 episodes of S60, while he tortured me by making me write a paper about what Marx says about the preconditions of a communist revolution. I VideoChatted with my sister and her dog, which caused my roommate to leave the room and go across the hall, and my suitemate to wake up and passively close the door in between our rooms. That was generally worth it.

I brushed my teeth with my new toothbrush, which I really really love.

I mean, I really love my toothbrush. It's great.

I got up around 9, ... 9:30... made a fool of myself because I don't know anything about Russia or Marx or communism, learned how to submit a budget to the AUCC, watched some S60, learned about my kidneys, became "that kid" in Anatomy, watched some S60, accomplished nothing at mock trial, ate some delicious gnocchi left over from last night, talked on the phone for 73 minutes, finished S60, cried to Murph a little. Got bored, decided to read emails from February 2005, discovered an ancient blog, discovered an ancienter blog. Wished on 11:11. Decided to try blog.

So I don't know, Mr. Sorkin, what kind of day has it been?

I think I prefer that phrase as a statement.

South Carolina tomorrow!