I can't believe I am coherent enough to write anything other than HELP

Before the weekend kicked off, the man-slave (I get to be Spartacus this time, get the Whip!) and I made it down the The Enzian to catch The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo - still showing. It wasn't nearly as good as the book and the ending should have been about 30 minutes shorter so as not to confuse the audience with needless information (if you are going to gloss over something, just. don't. add it.). I have been reading The Girl Who Played with Fire, which is the follow up and second book of the threesome (which sounds way hotter than Trilogy, come on). It's fantastic, by the way. I had not realized how long it had been since fiction had crossed my eyes; the deviation from my usual 'learn and burn' a much appreciated suggestion.

The Snap! Orlando International Photography event on Saturday night was sort of a let down. The workshops were barely explained, in most cases two words maximum - could they have not planned some events around actual shooting? Right. Photography event, I know that might have been a stretch, guys.
The art was good enough, there just wasn't enough of it; some was borrowed from a local gallery, where I had already seen at least 3 of the artists work previous, something new would have been... stellar. I would have thought including the world might have brought more than a few rooms of photos but apparently I was mistaken, should have listened to Walt Disney.
The South Beach room with White Couch, hipstertrash and DJ, could have been less corporate-y. It would be nice for people to sponsor things without flashing lights and clowns. Sorry, don't give a shit about your mini projector and Sponge Bob movie, I came for to see the photos.
It was fun mingling with the pretentious, overly jewelryed people in Orlando, if only for the hour or so it took us to saunter through. Confirmation that when I show large, I will have to be in head to toe black, sunglasses, looking completely unapproachable. Also, wearing a large sticker ala Chiquita banana or something.

I took my house back this Sunday nursing a Cosmo headache with beer and chanting under my breath for that baby cat to drop dead (I hate that baby cat). The construction is finally over. We now have an additional bedroom and the living room no longer has a futon in it (or a kid). My life is not pleasurable until the smell of bleach knocks me into HazySlurLand, oh sainted cleansers; you are calling my name and pleading for Round 2. I know. Totally wet, just like me, we'll mop this up together in a heap of sighs.

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