Home. All by my lonesome. For eight entire days.

With the exception of course of the seemingly semi-friendly ghost and my roommate’s Basset Hound, I will have the entire house at my disposal, and I’m not sure that is a good thing.

I actually kind of feel like the young Kevin McAllister. My feelings of being alone lie somewhere in between being really excited about having some much needed “me” time, and being completely frightened about what might happen.

Growing up, my grandparent’s lived across the street from me so I was rarely left alone. I had a friend who’s mom frequently left us alone until our peanut butter and popcorn cooking experiment nearly left their house in ashes. She eventually trusted us to stay there alone again, but then we literally tried to reenact the Home Alone movie, so her trust was short lived. Then there was the one time in high school that my parent’s let me stay home overnight unattended. Of course that was the night I decided to watch Event Horizon and ended up sprinting across the street to my grandparent’s house at 3 in the morning, head down, pants nearly soiled, and had to ask if I could sleep in their spare room.

It’s not that I don’t like being alone, I actually quite enjoy it. It’s just been forever and a day since I’ve had more than a couple of nights without at least one roommate around, and I’m not sure what to do with myself. LA works from home so she usually takes care of most of the cooking, which means that I’ll be living off of a diet of beans and chips and salsa this week… which is exactly what I lived off of last week out of poordom, so it’s really nothing different.

I plan on spending my nights taking long leisurely baths, reading, watching movies, painting and writing a bit… so that’s really nothing new either. The one major difference is that I won’t have someone calling to get me to watch all the good parts of shows and I won’t have the background noise of LA crying during Grey’s Anatomy or Gossip Girl. But I do have the freedom of playing my music as loud as I want, as late as I want (and I’m totally NOT listening to the Bieb-meister)… which is pretty cool. Maybe it will drown out the sound of gunshots in my neighborhood, which I haven’t heard since last week and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the gangsters don’t know that I’m on to them.

I actually lived alone for an entire year before I moved in to my last house with my four roommates, a house which I now affectionately refer to as the “rainbow house.” Aside from being the most miserable and lonely year of my life, living alone wasn’t so bad. I typically stumbled home from happy hour, ate a huge bowl of ramen noodles, and drank wine whilst mowing my way through the entire Netflix library.

Oh and I almost burned down the apartment complex, twice.

The first time could have happened to anyone. Anyone with a gigantic gray cloud following them around, that is. Ever since the time I caught fire to the Thanksgiving table by half hazardly throwing a table napkin down on a candle, my grandmother has warned me that I’m not the sort of person who should keep candles around in the house. Of course candles are pretty much my favorite thing in the universe besides John Cusack movies and ketchup, so I never thought to heed her advice. The night in question was a particularly stormy night, so I naturally wanted to light every single one of my one-hundred candles to set the mood. I then opened the porch door so that I could hear the storm, and settled into a bubble bath with a glass of wine. I had no idea the storm was such a windy one, but luckily my head was above water to hear a ginormous gust knock over about ten of the candles. Luckily I was able to grab a towel and nakedly whip the fire out before they caused too much damage.

The second fire I almost caused also happened when I was in the bathtub. I cooked something that I can’t remember but I’m sure was of the pasta variety, and once again got into the bathtub, only to be rudely interrupted about ten minutes later when the building’s fire alarm started sounding. I knew the fire was coming from my kitchen before I even grabbed a towel. There was smoke everywhere and I went into full panic attack mode. When I got into the kitchen I found that I had left a stove burner on, and had accidentally thrown a dishtowel on top of it, which had caught on fire. Luckily, I’m a quick thinker and threw a pitcher of iced tea over it, and batted out the rest of the flames with my towel. I’ve occasionally wondered why I don’t have any towels, but I’m now realizing that I’ve used the majority of them to put out fires. After putting out the fire, I grabbed a blanket from my futon to cover myself with and ran into the hallway shouting that the fire was out and not to panic, which I was clearly still doing.

I also wondered why none of the neighbors wanted to be my friend, but thinking back it was probably because they knew me as the type of person who started fires ran around in nothing but a leopard print blanket.

And there was also the time I woke up in a fever with no power and knocked on every door on my hallway claiming the world had come to an end, but that’s an entirely different story.

Tonight I will be lighting no candles, and I’ve already checked 8 times to make sure the burners are off so I should be OK. But send me some good juju just in case.

Oh and also, I’d like to go ahead and let you know that I wrote this entire post while naked. Because I can.

(LA if you’re reading this… I am in your chair, but don’t worry…I’m sitting on a towel.)

Anyway, back to you… I am hoping I will eventually catch up to all 900 or so unread posts on my reader… but I’m thinking it may take a while.

This weekend was kind of insane. On Saturday I got to catch up with a bunch of my college sorority friends at a baby shower.  (Love you Lydia and little Oliver who will be born sometime in the next 10 days) I’m usually terrified of situations that have anything to do with babies… mostly because babies scare the hell out of me. But besides the slight panic attack that I had in Babies R Us whilst trying to get someone to help me figure out what a Diaper depot was and where in this freak house of miniature things it might be found, I had a pretty rockin time.

I got all Martha Stewart on your asses and even made cream cheese tortilla rolls for the second event this month. I completely forgot to add salsa, which is apparently a major ingredient, but no one  said anything if they noticed.

I think the most shocking moment for everyone was probably when I held one of my friend’s babies. I did have to sit down first in the style of a 10 year old… but it wasn’t even such a terrifying experience. I actually really liked holding her. I had to admit  that babies are kind of cute and soft and I kind of started wanting to eat her up… or at least pet her obsessively. That came out a lot creepier than I meant it. What I’m trying to say is that- while I still don’t have baby fever in any way shape or form, maybe I shouldn’t be so scared of hanging out with my mommy friends a little more often.

We also drank a whole lot of champagne. I haven’t been to many baby showers, but I am quickly finding out that they even though the preggers guest of honor can’t drink, it’s perfectly appropriate for everyone else to. Afterward, a few of us hit the streets of our college town, and basically didn’t stop until around 10:30 on Sunday night. We gave Sunday Funday a whole new meaning, which basically led to a pretty miserable Monday. Except for one part…

Yeah I know what you’re thinking, because I was thinking it to.

With all these Oscar-worthy movies coming out in the last week or so, why would I go see Roland Emmerich prove to the world that his dick is smaller than Michael Bay’s?

For one, I had to get at least one more popcorn-blockbuster-type movie in before I start spending most of my free time in the Angelika, watching foreign and arthouse-ish type films through January.

Also, I actually like really really like end-of -the-the-world-shit-blowing-up-disaster type films. Who doesn’t? If you say you didn’t like Independence Day, I’m so calling bullshit. And not just because Bill Pullman pretty much made the sexiest-voiced president ever in a film. These type of movies do exactly what they set out to do, and that is to entertain and get you excited. Yeah yeah yeah, I admit that it was essentially one near death experience after another, but it definitely kept me on my toes. I spontaneously decided to forgo the gym and go see it by myself after work, but if someone would have been with me I probably would have spent the second half of the movie punching them in the arm.

I was planning on writing a full-on movie review, but I knew what that would turn into…

A post about nothing except for my love for John Cusack, and that can get old really fast. Just ask anyone that knows me in real life.

But seriously. I love the man… skewed political opinions and all. I don’t know what it is about this guy, but just seeing him on the screen makes me all giddy and butterflies in the stomach and all that nonsense that the thirteen year old me felt when opening up a Tiger Beat magazine that featured a pin up of Brad Renfro.

In complete honesty, I would probably love any movie that this man was in, (with the exception of The Contract, because that movie just sucked balls) and I completely blame John Cusack for the fact that I have spent the better part of my life single. How can a girl settle down with someone unless he shows up at your window with a boom-box and professes his love to through the musical stylings of Peter Gabriel? I’m still waiting!

And the thing that gets me the most about him is that he’s just so damn average. He’s good looking in a “guy that you see in your local grocery store” sort of way…  He usually plays these average down and out cynical characters, that are passionate about books and movies and music… but the dude always wins… and you really want him to.

2012 is no exception. I would much rather see the John Cusack continuously narrowly escape being blasted by fire balls and falling into the earth than Brad Pitt or George Clooney. You know they’ll escape. I would rather watch John Cusack do anything on the screen. Speaking of my favorite award night of the year, how has this man never been nominated?

See what I’ve done here? And I must stop. Mostly because I may need to change my panties.

Don’t be surprised if the next time you come here there is John Cusack wallpaper on my background. I will go there.

But until then… I’ve missed you and go see 2012!!! Now!