wine and cheap perfume

So Lauryn has introduced me to the wonderful world of mixes. Like, CDs where you just pick a bunch of songs and arrange a little list and then "burn it onto a disc" or something. This is something that I knew (in some vague, abstract sense) that people have been doing for ages, I just never really knew how, and for whatever reason, didn't care to learn. That has changed. I'm on a mix-making rampage. I keep getting all these great ideas for mixes: like, what if I made a mix with only songs sang by B-grade actresses and models who released albums in some desperate attempt to re-charge their career (Jennifer Love Hewitt, Naomi Campbell, Paris Hilton, etc.)? How awesome? Or, a mix of hip-hop artists, none of whom are over 5'2? This one could include Skee-lo, Kris Kross, and Lil' Bow-wow (before he dropped the 'lil). Or, a mix of only bad white male rappers? This could include Simon Rex (of MTV notoriety), Brian Austen Green, and K-Fed (who is actually kind of good). The list goes on. Tonight I accidentally saw a play called "The American Pilot," about an American pilot who crashes his plane into a mountain near Dubai and is held hostage in a farmer's house for a long time. I didn't mean to see it, but my mom stood me up (or so I thought--I actually just confused the dates) for the show we were SUPPOSED to see, so I found myself at the Manhattan Theater Club, dressed to the nines, with no date and no ticket, angrily pounding a tepid cup of urine-esque coffee that I bought at the concessions stand. On a whim, I asked a woman in a random office in the theater if I could go see the play anyway, and instead she shovelled a ticket to an entirely different show into my hand. So off I went, into the theater and into the only available seat, right in the center of the front row. I wept. I left. I came home and went to Heathers. Now I'm sitting here, at my computer, trying to decide whether or not I want to keep doing homework or go to sleep. Tough call. Not really.