The Show Must Go On

i’m a masochist in the name of fun. attempting first all-nighter since college for a few particularly good reasons (i pulled one over the summer for *no* particularly good reason) after two months straight of avging 8+ hrs sleep per night, this could get ugly. predicting a narcoleptic flareup, oh, any second now. current efforts: cereal with coffee instead of milk. oy. it’s as bad as it sounds. onward, trojans. the light hurts my eyes.

going out: a windy saturday night.

coming to a theater near you.

starring aparna, man wearing a headband who would not buy aparna a drink (at least pretend to consider it if you’re the one trying to pick me up), man who would not buy me a drink but insisted i share his with him (he was only in town for one night. i smell a motive!), american boy who just returned from the congo and asked questions like “so where did you go to university?” and “so you’re her friend, yeah?” and yet was born and raised one town over from me (cough cough, faux-british…has never been in style, he played dumb when i called him on it), and one girl who RECOGNIZED me from my comedy open mike and wisely encouraged me to pursue my dreams. now THAT was pure hollywood.

also featuring the worst game of pool ever played and a conversation that went entirely like this: “diva!” “nipple!” “diva!” “nipple!” “diva!” “nipple!” and so on and so forth.

welcome to the real world.

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