Let's get the money stuff out of the way first, shall we?
Last night I got invited to another free event, a screening of a new documentary about the death penalty called, "Into the Abyss", here's the trailer:
Unfortunately, I mixed up the theatre where the screening was happening and ended up at the wrong one. I thought I'd catch something else, but the only thing that was showing at a good time was "Anonymous" and Jefe said I couldn't see it without him...in the words of Stephanie Tanner, "how rude!".
So, on a night I thought would be free, I ended up spending about $3.00 on an unnecessary metro ride. Oh well, so what, who cares? I do want to see that movie though, and as much as I tried to get people to feel the same way, it would seem that no one was as interested in the philosophic implications of the death penalty as I was, how surprising.
Moving on, I am very excited because I am trying a brand new money-saving idea this weekend...making my own clothes! Yes you read that correctly, from the maker of the scarf skirt comes "the men's t-shirt dress/tunic".
I'm going to a Natalia Kills show on Saturday night, and I decided I didn't have any clothes appropriate for the occassion. Therefore, I declared that I would make a shirt that read "I <3 Verbalicious" and wear that. Verbalicious was her stage name before she was Natalia Kills by the way. Check the video:
A big change to who she is today, no? Anyhow, the idea evolved into becoming a t-shirt dress made from an oversized black, mens, t-shirt. I went to the craft store today and got gold spray-paint, fabric glue, stencils, and a variety of sequins and plan on putting the whole thing together tonight or tomorrow morning. Pictures will be taken, don't you worry.
If this turns out well, I figure I can save a lot of money making cheap going out clothes (which always get ruined quickly anyhow-as I am both a feverish dancer and incredibly clumsy with a glass of red wine). Who knows, maybe I'll be the next undeserving winner of Project Runway! SPOILER TO FOLLOW! I mean, Gretchen last year and now Anya?! Are you serious? I am outraged on Josh's behalf.
Okay, now the story you've all been waiting for, the Ryan Reynolds dream. I hate to tell you but the whole thing was not as scandalous as you may be thinking.
It was just the strangest thing, first I was swimming in a giant pool and there was this big white whale that was swimming with me. As you may or may not know I am TERRIFIED of whales. Seeing pictures of them send me into a panic...they're just so big and I am so small...and in Pinocchio someone gets stuck in one, no thank you. As a child I often worried that an Orca would come through our drain and live in our bathtub. Get out, Orca! Willy was freed!
I mean, look:
|Good God, it's looking right at me!|
So anyway, I was swimming with the whale, and I wasn't scared, eventually I tried to get all "Whalerider" on it and swim around on it's back...it didn't like that.
Then, all of a sudden, I'm in a different part of the pool, and there are these guys there. Ryan Reynolds is there too...but like "2 Guys, a Girl, and a Pizza Place" Ryan Reynolds, not "Green Lantern" Reynolds. He's wearing a teal shirt and black tie like those jerks in Vocal Adrenaline, it was heinous, but he decides he wants to make out with me, so whatever, I'm game. Then, just as it's about to happen, the dream cuts to some weird performance space.
Apparently I'm an employee of this place, and I've been assigned to the task of keeping Christian band Jars of Clay happy. Let me tell you what, for being a Christian rock band, they were total jerks! They were like getting high and requesting outrageous cakes and drinking all this beer. And I was like "umm...WWJD my dudes".
After I escaped their clutches I head upstairs and meet my friend GT in the lobby.
"GT!," I say, "I think I made out with Ryan Reynolds!"
"You did, I saw it," he says.
"Whaaaaaat?! I don't even remember it, what a waste," I bemoan.
Then Steel fell down the stairs, she was fine, and that was about that. See, I have this theory about dreams, that you can't hear/see/do/feel anything in a dream that you haven't experienced in real life. Now you might say, but you've never swum with a whale, Erica, and you did that. That's true, but I figure that for most things, your brain can equate a similar feeling to substitute in during the dream. For example, my brain could sub in wet rubber for the feel of a whale's skin, or the sensation of swimming for that of flying.
The one thing it couldn't equate though, was what it would feel like to make out with Ryan Reynolds, and so I was deprived of even the dream of it.
The brain, what a cruel mistress.
|Maybe in another lifetime, Ry-Ry|