In other news, I have completely fallen in love with the band Self. I have to start prioritizing my Ipod now, though. It's full... and I have a bunch of stuff I want on there. I would regret getting a mini, but they're just that much more aesthetically pleasing. If they made a blue 20 or 40 gig Ipod I'd be all over that... alas, no dice. Still... good music is the best medicine. I've been listening to "stick it to the man" music, all day. Laughing garishly in the face of strife. Mostly because I've been rocking really hard and systematically annihilating my smaller problems. How, you ask? Imagine my problem is a beach ball that slowly inflated itself over a few days. I, in turn, wrap a string of dynamite around it and blast the fucker out of the water. Yeah, a bit like that. Overkill? Nahhh.
I'm turning my focus back to this weekend. It should be a ton and a half of fun. We get to go skiing, party with a bunch of heathens, and I get to bury my face in Labrador. I'm a little anxious about seeing Shane. I've instructed Bill, Chris, Jon, and anyone else that is vaguely aware of my return not to tell him. I want to shock him out of his socks. Not only that, but I want to figure out why he's being so goddamn cold and recalcitrant. Matt and I were talking last night about whether or not we can salvage him... he doesn't seem very hopeful. I think it's possible, but it won't be a walk in the park. It all depends on the Shane, and whether he's willing to cooperate, which is where I get worried. Still, I'm going into the weekend with optimism. Especially since it starts in two days. Aha, four day "work" weeks rock my socks off sideways. I mean... "Four day work week!?! That's double cool with knobs, that is!" *slaps self*
Also, I am officially not looking forward to tomorrow morning when we have to "run through" our scene. I have a feeling I might have to feed Brandon the script