You can hate me if you want.

Yesterday, I went with some friends to see The Darjeeling Limited at a rather nondescript cinema here in town.  As we rounded the corner into our assigned theater, and as my friend Kevin was yelling “I’m in a loud mood!” we were shushed by a crowd of people congregating at the back.

Why were we shushed? (And why were they congregated?)

Because we happened upon Jason Schwartzman speaking about the film. And judging from the somewhat old Fender guitar amp his mic was plugged into, we’re guessing this may have been an impromptu visit.

And no, we didn’t get his autograph.

But we did briefly consider inviting back to my friends’ apartment to play Wii.

Once upon a time…

I made a blog.

And then I forgot about it for two weeks. Sorry.

A kind friend pointed out to me today that perhaps I’d gotten you folks all riled up and should, therefore, post more often.

And here we are.

And I can’t think of anything to say.

So I’ll tell you about something that made me smirk to myself today.

I was sitting at work, laboring away oh so diligently as always, when a girl came in the office via the stairwell, out of breath and looking rather exhausted, and said, “Why did you guys have to be on the 6th floor??”

The thing that made me smirk is that, while we are indeed on the 6th floor, that particular stairwell can only be accessed as low as the building’s main entrance. On the 3rd floor.

The poor thing.