I created a fake e-mail account so that I can start e-mailing all those vampire societies and tell them about the “magical experiences” in my past which lead me to believe I have great potential to become a vampire.
I may have a little too much free time on my hands.
One website will not let me e-mail them until I become a member. And I can’t become a member without uploading and sending them a copy of an official form of identification.
Another website made me take a 20-question quiz; intelligence questions mixed in with a smattering of vampire lore questions.
I failed. And therefore am not allowed to e-mail Gideon to tell him how much I want to become a vampire.
Dammit. So easily thwarted.
Something tells me these vampires may have experienced being trolled before. Seems like they’ve gotten pretty savvy.
Maybe this is the universe telling me I shouldn’t mess with people just because they’re weirdos and aren’t firmly rooted in reality.
I mean, people could probably say the same thing about me pretty easily.
What normal person spends a Sunday afternoon creating a fake e-mail account just so they can send out “I want to be a vampire” e-mails?
In my defense, it’s pretty crummy weather outside.
Yesterday Tom and I went to a French festival at the Queen’s Wharf in the CBD.
Unlike today, yesterday was absolutely beautiful…..
We walked along the water past the marina filled with yachts and I kept saying, “Oooh, look at that one. Oooh, look at that one!!” over and over again. Yachts fascinate me because most of them are bigger than almost any place I’ve lived in my adult life.
The festival was super crowded and the lines were extremely long. We spent about twenty minutes in there wandering about getting our heels stepped on and being elbowed by people. To be fair we probably did our fair share of unwitting heel-stepping and elbowing as well.
We walked around and stared at people carrying plates of crepes and ooey-gooey melty grilled cheeses, eating cornichons and sipping on French-pressed coffee. All the things we would not experience because we’re just too damn impatient to wait in a fifteen-minute line for food.
So we left and went to Giapo and got chocolate-covered gelatos in waffle cones topped with sourdough donuts.
It was freaking delicious.
While Tom and I were waiting for our cones, I watched a mom and her kid ordering at the counter. The little kid was whining because he’d seen another ice cream cone with a donut go out and his mom told him he couldn’t have one.
They sat down next to us to wait for their cones.
A few minutes later our donut-topped ice creams came and that poor little kid just stared at us slack-jawed and then he started whining again, “Moooo-oom, why couldn’t I get a donut?! I wanted a donut!”
I’m glad I’m a grown-up and can make my own poor dietary decisions.
I looked at the kid and said, “Don’t worry, it’s not very good.” The mom laughed but the kid just looked at me like he couldn’t believe I thought an ice cream covered in chocolate and topped with a donut covered in chocolate was not the absolute best thing in the ENTIRE universe.
He just kept on whining.
I probably should have felt bad for him because when I was a kid my mom would NEVER EVER have let me eat something like that. But all I kept thinking was Ha ha, I got a donut and you didn’t.
We went to roller derby last night and it was pretty disappointing…not like the bouts in Austin at all.
Have you ever seen 10-year-old girls trying to play roller derby?
I do not recommend it.
I probably should have read the event flyer a little more closely.
Luckily for me, I’m kind of an evil person, and I get highly entertained by watching people fall (yes, even 10-year-olds). Tom is the same.
Watching people fall on roller skates is especially funny because a lot of the time it takes them like a whole ten seconds to actually fall.
So though it wasn’t what I was hoping for, it wasn’t a complete waste of money either.
Grocery shopping time.