Dites-moi vos reves, et depuis dansons
Good evening, young goatlings.
In ten minutes I must depart to attend to Lady Pearl's kitchen, but before I do, I would just like to express to you how tired and whiny I am right now: very.
Good news, though! This morning I had another examination, this time in economics. And this time, after studying my ass off and breaking various parts of my body because I have no real space to sit down and work, I successfully mastered all concepts that showed up on the exam, and I am expecting a perfect score. Bad news on another front, however, as my statistics professor sent out an email to the class chiding students for various mistakes that were committed. I can't be sure, but I suspect I may have committed some of those mistakes. That would lower my grade on that test significantly, leaving me with the option to study my little tuckus off or settle for a B. I say fuck the fucking B, but I sure do wish I'd had the foresight to go to the review session before the test instead of sauntering off to Romano's Macaroni Grill to dine on moderately pleasing Italian dishes while sipping a dry vodka martini with a twist.
That's right. A martini. I think I went straight from age 12 to age 45, from no alcohol to wine and martinis. It was my second, and infinitely better than my first, which was this ghastly, excessively sweet thing I got at an Indian restaurant. I should have known by the fancy-sounding names for the liquor they put in it, but damn it, it had an Indian name, so I thought it would be cool.
And one last thing. This talk of martinis reminds me of James Bond. And I would like to say that I was very impressed by the newest model, as seen in Casino Royale. So screw you, haters! Hahahahaha!
In ten minutes I must depart to attend to Lady Pearl's kitchen, but before I do, I would just like to express to you how tired and whiny I am right now: very.
Good news, though! This morning I had another examination, this time in economics. And this time, after studying my ass off and breaking various parts of my body because I have no real space to sit down and work, I successfully mastered all concepts that showed up on the exam, and I am expecting a perfect score. Bad news on another front, however, as my statistics professor sent out an email to the class chiding students for various mistakes that were committed. I can't be sure, but I suspect I may have committed some of those mistakes. That would lower my grade on that test significantly, leaving me with the option to study my little tuckus off or settle for a B. I say fuck the fucking B, but I sure do wish I'd had the foresight to go to the review session before the test instead of sauntering off to Romano's Macaroni Grill to dine on moderately pleasing Italian dishes while sipping a dry vodka martini with a twist.
That's right. A martini. I think I went straight from age 12 to age 45, from no alcohol to wine and martinis. It was my second, and infinitely better than my first, which was this ghastly, excessively sweet thing I got at an Indian restaurant. I should have known by the fancy-sounding names for the liquor they put in it, but damn it, it had an Indian name, so I thought it would be cool.
And one last thing. This talk of martinis reminds me of James Bond. And I would like to say that I was very impressed by the newest model, as seen in Casino Royale. So screw you, haters! Hahahahaha!
Labels: martini
1 Comments:
At 01 May, 2007 01:45,
Laura Borealis said…
Moderately pleasing?? MODERATELY PLEASING?! I am quite jealous. My last trip to Romano's Macaroni Grill or whatever the hell it's called was moderately vomit-inducing
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