divine angst

Jennifer Love Hewitt is in some new movie on Oxygen (”an Oxygen Original”) and the title of is something like, “True Stories of a Sociopathic Social Climber.”

Not only is this the worst title ever, especially since it appears that they are trying to make her a sympathetic character, but this movie also has “Joseph Lawrence” in it.

Wait, Joseph Lawrence? As in, JOEY Lawrence? As in, the doofus middle brother from Blossom? And he’s the gay best friend to (the other) J.Lo?

Wow. Guess he got a new agent. And she needs one.

GW sent me an invitation to a dinner at the end of March for scholarship recipients. It’s just before Preview Day, and I’d like to be able to go—my previous visit to GW was during finals, so I didn’t get much sense of the student population. But I don’t want to go if I don’t know that we’ll end up in DC.

I have three weeks to RSVP. Hopefully, Mr. Angst will hear something from DC by then so I’ll have time to get a plane ticket and a hotel reservation.

Blargh.

E. McPan has a thing for tats.

I have a tattoo of the kanji character “ai” (that would be “love”) on my lower back. Mr. Angst got it for me for our first dating anniversary. No, we don’t give each other body modifications for all of our special occasions—I had just wanted this tattoo, and Mr. Angst got it for me.

The interesting part is when we went to the shop and tried to use the gift certificate he’d bought. The guy with the half-dollar sized rounds in his earlobes looked at us in our khaki shorts and flip-flops, and told us he wouldn’t honor it.

“All our artists are independent contractors, guys, and none of them are going to be willing to take a piece of paper for that tat. That’s a really hard tattoo, and the gift certificate isn’t going to be enough. And you’ll have to wait at least an hour before someone is free, because all my people are working on more important people.”

OK, he didn’t say that last sentence, but he might as well have.

So we went to the other location of this particular tattoo shop, this time the one by campus. Presumably, they see less of the “hard-core” tattoo crowd. The artist on duty was totally willing to do my tattoo for the amount of the gift certificate, and to take the certificate, and he was free right then and there.

It hurt like hell. It was like the pain of pricking your finger for a blood test, or pulling a very small section of hair, but it was continuous for about 20 minutes. Once it was over, though, it was over and I had a nice little tattoo at the base of my spine.

Sometimes I forget I have it—it’s not like I can see it every day. And when I do catch a glimpse of it, or recall that it’s there, I always smile. It’s love! On my back! In black ink, forever and ever.

CM has a great post on prepping for the law school adventure. If you’re pre-law, I highly recommend checking it out.

On a completely different pre-law note, I am so glad—no, wait, that’s not strong enough—SO GLAD that I do not have to find a roommate for law school. Every now and then, I see a stressed-out post on the boards about finding roomates; I see them on the accepted student sites that I have access to, also.

SO GLAD. I have a roommate, and he’s dandy. Don’t need another, thankee.