Always Anna

After reading Poop’s thoughts on Spring Break, I became inspired to talk about MY opinion on spring break.

You’re never too old.

In fact, I think Spring Break is a neccessity, especially for those of us crazy enough to live in the Northeast. It’s just not possible to take the 6+ months of winter that we have to handle without some kind of vacation. Plus, it’s an excuse to go on vacation with your friends and blow off steam from “the real world.”

With that in mind, I have refused to give up Spring Break. The first year after college, I went to Disney World with a friend. We had so much fun at the Magic Kingdom that we talked two more of our friends into joining us in New Orleans last year. Awesome time. And this year, although the break will be later than hoped for since no one could get away until May, five of us are planning on going to Montreal. Woo hoo! The first round of shots will be on me.

Sometimes, I’m not sure how my brain works.

I consider myself a feminist… but I’m not offended by strip clubs.

I enjoy Ms. Magazine… and Glamour.

I love chick lit… and Tolkien.

I hate strawberry banana yogurt… but love the smoothies.

I like this girly blog… and its parody.

I love Ani DiFranco… but not Tori Amos.

I love musicals… and action movies.

I think Eminem is awesome… but 50-cent is too violent.

I like milkshakes… but not ice cream.

I love going out and partying… but put me on the couch with a movie and some food, and I’m happy too.

I’m not sure how all this is… maybe because I’m a gemini?

I think it’s rare for both nights in a weekend to be completely fabulous - usually, one night is really fun, while the other is just okay, if not downright boring. Well, this weekend was an exception, thanks to AlexisT’s antics, Ali’s coolness, and the Pirates’ craziness.

Friday night: Ali and I met Alexis and her friend in dive bar, complete with urine stench, sketchy old guy, and duct tape covered seats. Watched Alexis get steadily drunker as we told embarrassing hook-up stories. Horrified random guy with these stories. Pizza! Spooned with Alexis on Ali’s ridiculously uncomfortable pull-out.

Saturday: Brunch at cute little cafe. Jewelry shopping in Chinatown, clothes shopping in SoHo. Made my first trip EVER to Bloomingdale’s and FELL IN LOVE. I’ll be obsessively visiting every time I’m able. Dinner at cool Cuban place.

Saturday night: Late to surprise party for one of the Pirates. Drank beer. Did shots. Danced. Flirted. Threw pretzels in each other’s cleavage. Drank more. Watched some girl get thrown around. Did more shots. Drank. Threw temper tantrum about getting food. Apologized for temper tantrum. Ate. Watched Alexis post. Slept.

Sunday: Headache.

Last night I saw Cirque Dreams, a phenomenal show featuring contortionists, trapeze artists, aerial shows, balancing acts, and feats of incredible strength. I’ll say it again, it was PHENOMENAL.

I was especially impressed by the contortionists and trapeze artists - their flexibility, balance, and strength were amazing. Plus, they were incredibly sensual (not sexual); the contortionists were Russian sisters that slithered all over each other, while the trapeze artists were two women that seemed to move as one. Leaving the show last night, I had an overwhelming urge to run off and join le cirque… but is it, in fact, too late?

Apparently, contortionists start training practically at birth; it’s the only way their bodies can learn to be so incredibly flexible. And while I adored the trapeze act, how can I gain the balance and fearlessness that are needed to succeed?

Maybe I should just become a clown. In this show, even they rocked.

So I just heard from my friend Ali that “wedgie” is among the words being added to the newest edition of Webster’s dictionary. How entertaining! While I don’t worry about getting wedgies anymore (or panty lines!), thanks to the wonder of thongs, I still have a fear of being given a wedgie…

I started out my freshman year of high school knowing no one, while everyone else at the school had known each other since kindergarten. Since I am so fabulous, I obviously made friends, but it was a lot of work, and I still felt awkward for quite a while. Anyways, I was sitting in the courtyard with some friends when one of the Butter Kings (for some weird reason, this is what the “cool” boys called themselves) came over, grabbed a hold of my underwear that were peeking up above my waistband, and wedgie-d me. Obviously I was horrified, but since he apologized, saying that it was just too inviting, I acted all cool and pretended to laugh it off. Shudder.

Too bad I didn’t wear thongs then…

I had the most bizarre dream last night. I was Brittany Murphy, and was stuck in a hotel elevator with Ashton Kutcher. We were still dating, and I was trying to seduce him into having sex in the elevator. I woke up before any action got started - thank god!

I don’t like Brittany or Ashton - In fact, I’d go so far as to say that they’re wastes of space in the acting world. I mean, I’ll give him credit for That 70s Show and she was supposedly good in Don’t Say a Word (which I haven’t seen, so I’ll have to take everyone else’s word for it)… but Just Married was one of the worst movies I’ve EVER seen, right up there with Little Black Book. And while Punk’d is pretty funny, he is SO freakin’ annoying. Plus, they both seem so into their own publicity that it makes me want to vomit. And she needs to eat a cheeseburger - her head is now way too big for her body.

So why on earth would I have this dream? I’m at a loss….

UPDATE: 3/15/05, 10pm-ish: I was just informed that Demi may be pregnant with Ashton’s love child… gross.