Perhaps the greatest, most splendid news I've heard all year.
Hold on to your beanies, Ladies and Jelly beans.
A beautiful best friend of mine, this talented gal, informed me that we are going to see Andrew McMahon (Something Corporate, Jack's Mannequin) in February.
Okay, now let me just paint you a picture; imagine a band, one that you faithfully listened and inspired to be throughout high school and beyond, then imagine a couple of years have passed, perhaps your eyesight has since deteriorated or maybe you find yourself jogging for pleasure, but then, hey, get this, imagine you and your significant high school accomplice are going to see said band and you are going to live out your crazy high school band fantasies before undoubtedly perishing from extreme bouts of nostalgia and happiness.
I am almost certain that I will spend the entire night hysterically crying, because that is what adult Grace does at any and all given opportunity's. Fourteen year old Grace never cried, she sucked it up, listened to some Dashboard Confessional and dealt with it.
Thoughts from the weekly doings.
I actually don't like Starbucks coffee; I don't know what it is, but I find that it tastes quite dull and masked.
Am I the only one? (Very aware I might be the only one.) I just like coffee with a sharp zing and an 'ahh' after every sip, in lieu of the disgruntled Starbucks grimace. I definitely think that independent coffee shops buy in the stronger, Class A, stuff. Unfortunately, to my caffeine withdrawn mind's dismay, there is usually only one place open at 6pm on a Sunday, it starts with a S and ends in UCKS. Their non coffee drinks and food are perfectly fine though.
Tuesday was a fun day, we went to an Alice in Wonderland exhibition at Chatsworth and ate pub food.
The Arctic-like weather was a constant reminder of why I should start dressing weather appropriate.
I went to Leeds with a sweet friend; we wandered, drank coffee, had heart palpitations in Forbidden Planet, spent too long in hmv, then I serenaded (embarrassed) her in Victoria Quarter with a powerful rendition of Part Of Your World.
Today was spent painting and rockin' out to some good old 50's music, or to be more accurate, I observed the painting, evaluated the situation, offered no help, then head banged in the name of Elvis.
If you were expecting bagels in this post, then it is with a heavy heart
that I inform you of a lack of bagels in this post. Please seek medical attention.
This post was brought to you from a fort made of blankets.