Feeling: twinkly
Listening to: Dispatch - Out Loud
Reading/Watching: Sword-Sworn, last in the series

Okay, so Nimsay calls me at 3 p.m. in tears, because the results to the bar exam have been posted.

Yeah. Answer your own question.

So tonight, after choir rehearsal, I came home and briskly asked, "so what do we need? Dinner? Chocolate? Or alcohol?"

Her answer was "Yes."

So there was tuna parmesan pasta, the rest of the jello shots from Halloween, and watching Angel where we each had keywords for when to drink. I chose "Angel" for her keyword, since she was the obvious candidate for total blitz-ification, and as payback I had three: Gunn, Wesley, or Spike.

The poor girl. Eight shots in the space of twenty minutes (although I did my part, with five). But just now she was in her room laughing, quoting "A Streetcar Named Desire" in an Arabian accent (yeah, it's even funnier in real life), telling me she didn't think she was really buzzed.

Yeah. Suuuure.

This has been a hellish year for her, between graduating from law school, three deaths in the family, migraines, the Bar, and the MPRE. Say a prayer for her when you get the chance. Me, I'm hanging tight for the upcoming storm in February, when she re-takes the Bar.

Oh, and me? Play rehearsal, choir concert tomorrow, class, almost falling asleep at work because silly me let homework take precedence over sleep again. You know, the usual. Doodly-doo.

A (near) stranger I've met through the play was asking me when I'd have free time tomorrow, and as I thought my way through my schedule, reciting aloud what was going on between 9 a.m. and 9 p.m., he put a hand on my head and said, "You do too much."

Hmm. Maybe. C'est la vie. Ou peut-etre c'est ma vie.

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