A fish bowl.

I kinda made a promise to myself to try not to post much about drinking excursions, but this one is short and, I think, amusing.

so last night I was all excited because we got out of rehearsal and hour early, I suddenly had time to go over to the apartments and see all of the wonderful people I hadn't seen yet AND work on the beer wall AND cut my hair AND get to bed a decent hour!! all right! great! I was pumped! and then...Ben walked out of the kitchen carrying a medium sized fish bowl, complete with rocks and plants, FILLED with wine.

A REAL FISHBOWL!!

it was fuckin awsome. it was so pretty! and colorful! (of course I didn't have my camera with me...ass....but I can't get any pictures off my camera until I get back to my own computer anyways so meh) so it's still early, I've got a nice little schedual layed out for myself that allows me good visiting/beer wall/hair cutting time before heading home around 12:15, so I'm thinkin, hey! how often is it that you get to drink WINE out of a FISHBOWL? the answer is not very. all right, I had to get up for rehearsal at 7:45am so I was like, ok, I'll drink just enough to get a little buzz. I know my body, I can totally handle a little buzz for the evening without it bothering me in the morning. so I picked my pretty blue straw and went at it. well....I'll spare anymore stupidness by simply saying that I learned a very good lesson. drinking very cheep wine through a straw from a fishbowl makes it damn near impossible to gauge how much one is actually consuming.

bad, bad idea.

but I got my ass up and toughed out actor aerobics and rehearsal because it was all my own fault. fuckin fishbowl.

ok, maybe that wasn't very short, but I was just so surprised by that awsome fishbowl.

until later, peace.

EDIT:

so random thought that I feel like stickin in here (so much for changing how I do shit...meh....I like it this way...) ok, so, someday when I have time again, I really want to research the histroy of Czechloslovakia (I know it's mis spelled) and France. I kinda want to check out my heritage. I was just kind of musing about how just how much does where you came from actually matters if you've never actually known these places. I mean, working off stereotypes and generalizations alone I feel like I really do related to those two contries in particular out of my own ancestory. I was chucking to myself about how I'm glad that I got over that "needs stuffed animal to sleep" phase pre college (it wasn't an emotional thing, just a habit thing. like, if Rambo feel off my bed in the middle of the night, I would actually wake up and have to find him or I just couldn't get comfortable) because it would not be very conducive at all to my nomadic lifestyle. Vlad had made a similar comment ealier in the year when I was talking about how I sleep in someone else's room/house/apartment as often as I sleep in my own bed. He said I really was a gypsy now. So is it simply coincedence that I am so in love with this busy, roaming lifestyle? or is it some kind of deep connection I have with my "roots"? hm. there are more little things like that that I notice too...

just a thought. hopefully I will acutally get to check out the worlds from which I came. we'll see.