what up, oprah.

…and then it was springtime.

Meet Cute: I’m writing a romcom. If you want something done, etc etc. It’s about washed up pop stars and working on it has necessitated listening to a lot of 98 Degrees, I am not going to lie to you. Yesterday I spent half an hour researching the Spears/Timberlake dance off of August 2002.  I feel a little like my brain is leaking out of my ears. I also feel very, very happy. I have 53 pages so far.

As a result: My apartment, unsurprisingly, is a disaster.

Small World: A lawyer called my job today, and when I asked her name I realized she was the ARD on the west side of campus when I was an RA one hundred years ago. Remember, that girl who was in law school who everybody thought was so pretty? Sure you do. Did she make out with somebody? I am thinking of one somebody in particular, but I might be making that up in my addled brain. Wouldn’t be the first time I have fabricated a makeout.

Bridge, Falling: We leave for London in 13 days.

Current Obsessions: The Ephron canon, Nora and Delia both; Tender is the Night; those chocolate easter eggs with the chalky candy shell; stacked grey pumps from Land’s End Canvas; The Killing; fabricated, clandestine makeouts between Kate Middleton and Prince Harry; the newly expanded beer offerings at the Hub; carnivals; herbs planted in teacups; Paul Pierce.

Leather Jacket: Has anybody seen the Boston episode of No Reservations? I hear Weirdly Sexy Tony Bourdain spends most of it at, like, the Shannon Tavern.

Worth Noting: I really sort of miss writing in this thing.