06 February 2012


With the exception of yesterday's Super Bowl parties (one at my sister's house, where the above bowl of fried chicken was unceremoniously CRUSHED; the other at our friends' (they are also our neighbors; there is great value in a Sunday-evening commute taking less time than one THE VOICE commercial break), the entire weekend was spent in an odd turtleneck/sweatpants combination, reading magazines, and generally avoiding housework. I DID succeed in watching Popeye start to finish, which - while a weird little gem of a movie - in writing, seems like far less of an accomplishment than I previously thought. Atoning by forcing myself in the direction of the Smithsonian; a laundry pile-takedown; SOPHISTICATED wardrobe choices.


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