I really ought to have learned this by now. But I made Aaron sit through half of American Idol (I almost shat my pants when the power went out at 7:45 and I missed most of the show...I really, truly need help. I'm not this lame. Please believe me), all of America's Next Top Model (maybe I am this lame), one and a half episodes of Sex and the City, and then he cut me off.
And put in David Lynch.
The last time I watched David Lynch was at Adam and Liz's in Seattle, when they wanted to see Mulholland Drive. I own the movie and have watched it several times, but it still creeps me the fuck out. Before that, I watched Blue Velvet with my roommate-for-a-month Niff, fell asleep halfway through it but dreamt that I was still watching it, woke up an hour after the movie was over and a static-y infomercial was on, and was entirely creeped the fuck out. Now, we are watching Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me. The part where Laura says, "Fire!...walk!...with!...me!" and then her face gets all creepy, I screamed bloody murder, lunged at Aaron, and buried myself into his tummy. He laughed and paused the movie and imitated me for the next twenty minutes.
I had a very busy day today, for it being my day off. First, I woke up at 11am and took my pillow to the bathroom and fell asleep wrapped in towels because that's what I do, apparently, after a sleep full of nightmares. Then Aaron brought me bacon and eggs and toast and made me get up so we could meet our neighbor Stacy and her partner Lisa, the proud owners a mastiff-pit bull mix named Santana, at the beach. We wandered around for two hours, let the dogs get tired running up and down the sand dunes, and then left the girls to explore the Presidio. After driving around for a bit, we parked near the Palace of Fine Arts, got a few hot dogs, watched some 8-year-olds play flag football, and almost got attacked by not one, not two, but four different swans. At one point, they had us completely surrounded. The dog was terrified, so we had to drag him between the ferocious beasts and make a run for it.
Eventually, we made it home, puttered around for a bit, ordered some pizza, and then the electricity went out. So we went and sat on the fire escape and waited for it to come back on. And waited. And waited. It was only around forty minutes, which is much better compared to the ten hours it took the last time this happened, but when you're missing your guiltiest of pleasures, forty minutes is an eternity. Especially when you have to admit why you're so pissed off that the power's out.
Apparently, I've been talking in my sleep lately, saying things like, "I need _____...no, seriously, I need_____." V. odd.
one year ago today: "aaron is so v. sweet when he's not being a complete fuckhead." three years ago today: "it'd be easy to just drive your car my car off a bridge. just to turn the wheel. i'm not suicidal now, i just think about these things when i drive across bridges."