I Am Not Graceful

Day two of P90X. I understand why so many people quit during the “jumping” program. Today I hopped around and leaped for an hour. And I did squats. A lotta squats.

I believe I’ve mentioned how very Not Bendy I am, yes? Yes. Try to imagine a Not Bendy person jumping in the air and bending their legs. It just doesn’t happen. I tried again to analyze what my problem was. Am I too fat? Am I too short? Am I just really uncoordinated? Why don’t my legs bend? I ruled out “I’m too fat” because I know plenty of Bendy fat people, so that just can’t be it. I was pretty well convinced that I was just too short to bend, but I know people who are shorter than I am, and they are Bendy. The question plagued me throughout this bend intensive workout – why the HELL am I not bending? I can squat, so I know my knees bend that way. But I can’t bring my leg up and bend my knee, I can’t stick my leg out straight without my knee twisting in funny ways, and I can’t jump and pull my legs up towards me while I’m in the air. That last part could just be a matter of the space-time continuum. I have a vertical of roughly 1.48 inches, so my “air time” is about .000003 seconds. No one could bend in that amount of time and still get their feet back on the floor to land. It’s just not possible.

In particular, the move I can not do is pictured above. EVERYONE I know can do this – fat, skinny, short, tall, employed, unemployed, etc. Everyone. I can not do this move. I can not even come close to doing this move. The Boy attempted to help me do this move and pushed my ankle towards my hand until I was just barely able to grab it. When he let go, I became gravity’s bitch and I tipped, unable to connect my brain to my body to stop myself. Imagine in slow motion, a person grabbing (sort of) their ankle as they tip to the side. At the last possible second, that person realizes she needs to catch herself before hitting the floor face first. Then imagine that person landing on her wrists, bouncing, skidding forward and rolling over. That was me. And that was not the only time I tipped over during this workout, either. But the tipping I understand, I am not a balanced person. I tip over when I’m standing upright and not moving. I tip over if I turn my head too fast. So that was ok. It was the ankle holding that bothered me.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I have no knees. I just don’t have them. I have something that is in their place, but they do not function as regular knees do. They are a trick to make me believe I have knees when really, there is a mass of paper towels and duct tape under my skin in an attempt to form a knee-looking structure that actually isn’t functional. And it’s a bad job at that, my knees don’t even look like knees. If I took pictures of my nose, my elbows, my foot, my fingers – you’d be able to identify all those bits. If I showed you a picture of my knees, you’d have no idea what you were looking at. “What is that?” you’d say. “My knees”, I would reply. Then you would double over in convulsive laughter at my non-functioning, weird looking, paper towel and duct tape knees. You would probably look at the picture again and say “Ok, really, is that a white meat turkey burger, or possibly cauliflower that is very poorly cooked?” (that was to emphasize the whiteness of my legs).

As I was driving home (in pain) from my hour of non stop squatting, leaping and jumping, I thought about other knee activities that I can’t participate in because of my deformity. Step stools. We have them at work. They are a foot or less off the floor. We step on them to reach higher shelves. I actually have to contort my body to step up on one because my vertical lift is less than the height of the stool. My knees aren’t doing their job and bending my leg properly to put it on the stupid stool. I have to twist and sort of hurl my leg up there without the help of knees.

I might set up a donations button on here to pay my way into Knee Freaks R Us and see if I can find others like me, like at a camp or something. They have camp for everything else, why not Knee Freaks? We can all gather around the campfire and sit on old lady chairs so that we don’t have to sit on the ground and potentially have something weird happen to our knees. We can sing songs about mythical knees who become heroes despite their inability to work properly.

Oh, and just for the record – no, I did not do every rep, but yes, I participated in every single jumping/hopping/leaping/squatting activity, and I did it for the entire damn hour. And I moved the entire time, I only sat down at a very desperate point about halfway in, and that was only for about a minute. I will not be defeated!! I stand for Funky Kneed People everywhere!

Nothing Tastes as Good as Being Skinny Feels

I’ve been fat for about 20 years.  In that time, I’ve tried every diet out there and I paid a lot of money to try them.  Weight Watchers at age 15?  Yeah, put me in a room with a bunch of 60 year old women and see how motivating THAT is.  NutriSystem?  Been there done that, and I’ve never experienced such unique forms of intestinal distress in my life.  Jenny Craig – check.  There’s nothing like having to meet with a condescending, never-been-fat skinny girl, who is almost always shorter than me and dressed nicer than me, telling me in a whiny little girl voice that I didn’t lose any weight that week.  Physician’s Weight Loss – I don’t believe anyone there was actually a doctor.  Slim Fast, Dexatrim, Hydroxycut, Green Tea Pills, and several that have since been taken off the market because they killed people – I’m not hard core enough to withstand the insane side effects they all had, almost all having to do with either acting like I was on speed or turning my intestines inside out.  Adderall!  Yay, we have a winner!  I was on Adderall for many years.  Sure, I acted like a completely spazzed out cokehead, and yeah, I sweated profusely even in the dead of winter, but damn, I got a LOT of stuff done.  I credit Adderall with my promotion to assistant manager, actually.  I was superhuman on that stuff.  And I lost the equivalent of an 8 year old child in weight.  But then it stopped working and just made me angry all the time.  No one likes a sweaty, fast, angry person, let me tell you.  But at least I was as skinny as I had been for about 15 years – which was still not skinny, but was less fat.  I maintained that for awhile, until I met my ultimate nemesis…anti-baby pills.  No one mentioned that yeah, you’ll feel great all the time because you won’t be moaning on the floor, doubled over because of cramps…but you’ll gain a pound for every cookie you look at!  This led me to my highest weight of my life.  Then I got pneumonia, thank God, and lost a good 30 pounds and there I have been ever since.

So now I’m trying Weight Watchers online (third time?  fourth?) and P90X (a masochist’s dream) to see what happens.  But you know what?  If anyone says to me “nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels”, I will eat them.  Of COURSE things taste better than being skinny, how do you think I got fat in the first place!?  I was skinny, but damn it, something tasted good.  Like, a lot of things.  I could start naming them for you, but I’ll spare you that list (Hershey bars with a jar of peanut butter, Ben and Jerry’s, fair food).  Ok, I lied about the list, but I did hold back, at least.

So back to the present.  I’m going to attempt to follow my cat’s example and lose weight (that’s right, Sabrina Von Squishy is not as Squishy anymore!).  I have no expectations or goals, and I don’t expect to succeed – I find that starting with zero expectations means I won’t be disappointed if I fail.  But let’s just say I succeed and I become a skinny person.  I am going to dress like a freaking slut.  I’m not even kidding – people will often mistake me for a stripper or a lady of the night, that’s how slutty I’m going to dress.  You know why?  Because skinny people can do that.  If I were TRULY a brave person, I would just dress like that now, but I’m totally not that brave.  Anyway, I’m seeing a lot of leather in my future, and super skimpy tops.  I’ll embarrass everyone I’m with and people will pray for me when they see me because they will think I’m a prostitute or heroin addict.  Skinny People can do whatever they want.

I am looking forward to reaping the benefits of a skinny person.  Going through turnstiles without turning sideways.  Not having to deal with chub rub and replacing jeans every two months when the thighs finally give out (if you aren’t familiar with chub rub, consider yourself lucky).  People will finally stop thinking I’m jolly, because like it or not, not all fat people are jolly.  I am not your fat best friend who is always laughing, got it??  Yeah, I’m always laughing, but that has nothing to do with being your fat best friend!   When I show people to the diet section in my store, and I say “Oh, I tried that one”, I won’t have to give them the “look at me, dumbass” stare when they say “Did it work?”  Well, ok, I’ll actually kind of miss that one.

Why am I telling you all of this, you may wonder?  It’s because I’m going to post a lot about this and my five readers will have the right to heckle me when I fail.  That will be my motivation.  No one likes being heckled, fat or not.

For today, I will tell you about P90X.  It’s an exercise program created by Satan to make skinny people gain muscle and fat people cry.  It’s an hour of non-stop weight lifting, push ups, sit ups, pull ups and God knows what else (I’ve only done the first one so far).  Then you get to add 20 minutes at the end to do crunches and sit ups in positions that cause you to wish you would just snap in half and die.  Positions which, even with the help of the Boy, I could not contort my body in to.  At one point I had my legs sticking out in front of me, off the ground, while I laid on my back, and my arms were pointing in the air.  I just sort of rolled over in slow motion and wasn’t able to do a thing about it.  I just rolled.  I was like Randy in A Christmas Story when he falls over, but he’s so packed tight with winter gear, he just rolls around on the ground and can’t get up.  That was me.

P90X has made me learn that my legs do not function in the same way that other people’s legs do.  Specifically, they do not bend very much, nor do they extend straight out, and they do not come more than 2 inches off the ground no matter what the rest of my body is doing to get them in the air.  It has also made me learn that from the waist up, I could probably kick someone’s ass, but from the waist down, I have the strength and agility of 10 or 12 infants.  It’s made me realize that I have ZERO concept of where my limbs are at any given time.  The man told me to hold my arm straight, and I did.  Until the Boy had to physically move my arm 45 degrees so that it was actually straight.  The man told me to bend to the right and stick out my left hip while doing something with my left arm, and I basically contorted into a pretzel because I am so not coordinated that I had no idea what any part of my body was doing in relation to the other parts.  He told me to bend in half, and I did…until the Boy had to come over and bend me about a foot further, because I wasn’t actually in half.  It also taught me that exercising in jeans and a tee shirt is just plain stupid.  I mean, seriously, jeans?  What the hell?

And if you are wondering how the Weight Watchers is doing (I’ve been on it for a week), let me just say this:  I have 38 “points” to use in a day, and my coffee accounts for 12 of them.  I use THAT much International Delight Vanilla cream.  And no, I will not be giving it up.  Also, they do not recommend eating spoons full of frosting at 2am, but I did that anyway.  Hopefully that part will get a little better.

But I have no expectations that it will.

So It’s a Little Late…New York Part II

Ok, I’ve completely failed at the blogging thing, right? I can admit that, that’s fine. Here’s what happened: When I have a commitment, I am incapable of doing anything at all towards it. For instance, I knew I was going to move home for about a week before I actually did. The very thought of packing in a timely manner freaked me out so badly, all I could do was sit, frozen, and not do anything. I’ve had appointments that if I am not early enough (not late, just not early enough), I will freeze and sit there until the appointment time has passed. So this blog, it was hanging over my head. “Darcy”, it said. “Your five readers want to know about the second half of your trip to New York. Tell them, Darcy. Tell them”. And I froze. I actually, and I am so totally not making this up, avoided the computer I use to write the blog on. If I’m on my laptop, well hey, I CAN’T write in the blog because I don’t have the program on there. So for the past month or whatever it’s been, my lovely iMac in my bedroom has not been touched.

I finally got sick of thinking “Wow, I wish I could sync my iPhone” (again, that only happens on the iMac, not the laptop), and I just sat down and used it. Then I froze and watched You Tube videos for several hours. Now I have finally faced my blog and, with the help of decaf coffee and peanut butter M&Ms, I am writing in my neglected blog.

So that second half of the New York City trip, ready for it? I don’t remember what order things happened in anymore, so this is just a random assortment of the events. I went to see The Lion King. I’ve never seen the movie and I’ve never seen the play. I do not watch animated Disney films because they always kill off an animal and I just can’t handle that. I’ve seen a few, and I’ve seen all the Pixar films, but most classic Disney I have not seen. Anyway, that theater is freaking HUGE. It’s pretty sweet. I decided I didn’t want to scrunch into yet another too small seat with my Uber Hoodie on, so I checked my coat and, consequently, my purse. That meant that once I was seated (45 minutes early), I got thirsty. So I had to go uncheck my purse, get money, and buy a beverage. I sat back down and was joined by a woman and her 6-7 year old daughter. We said hi and all that, but mostly I pretended I was busy doing something on my phone, which had run out of power, so I was actually staring at a blank screen. The show started, and it was super neat. Right up until this freaking HUGE giant elephant came walking down the aisle RIGHT NEXT TO ME. Ok, there were two French men between me and the elephant, but it might as well have been right next to me. Those of you who know me know that my startle reflex is, putting it mildly, sensitive. I got startled. I saw the elephant, grabbed the woman next to me and started crying. I am not even kidding. Ok, it wasn’t all out sobbing, it was just my immediate reaction. I stopped really quickly, I swear! Look at the freaking elephant in the picture on this entry – it was HUGE. But then I needed to take Klonopin, but guess what? My purse was checked. I’m no dummy, and I know myself, so I had multiple Klonopin pills in my pocket, which I promptly took. So the rest of the show was fantastic. At intermission, the woman next to me could NOT stop laughing with (at) me about my reaction. So we became the best of friends and she asked me to watch her daughter while she went to the bathroom. I’m not so great with kids, so I stared at her for a minute and finally said “So do you like it?” and she took it from there. I know where she lives, how old she is, how many siblings she has, all about her parents divorce and her new dad. I could have very easily kidnapped her, but I chose not to, because I don’t like kids and I certainly didn’t want one following me around New York.

One of the days I decided to be in the audience of Dave Letterman’s show. I got my ticket and was told to come back in two hours, and that the bar around the corner has really good food. I went there, and met my…I wouldn’t say ultimate fear…but something I don’t like. There was one seat in the whole place and it was at the bar, right in the middle. I sat there. I was brave. And I must be incredibly trustworthy looking because the guy next to me asked me to watch his briefcase and food while he took a phone call outside. Anyway, I had the best chicken fingers ever in the world there. Most everyone else had many adult beverages. By the time we all got back to the theater, most people were pretty drunk. We were instructed on what to do, how to laugh, what noises we COULD make and what noises we COULD NOT make (WOOOO was one of those noises). We were told that even if we didn’t get a joke, we had to laugh very loudly at it, because there is no laugh track, it just depends on us. So, we had to sit through Paul Schaeffer and his band playing music for a long time and we were forced to clap along with it. To every. Single. Song. Clap clap clap clap. It was horrible. Then finally Dave Letterman came out, and that was just surreal, seeing him that close (I was about four rows back, right in the center). He immediately zoomed in on a kid wearing a Michigan tee shirt, and the kid turned out to be from Germany, so Dave went with that through the entire “pre-show” thing. THEN he went with it through the show! The kid made it into the Top Ten List! It was very funny. Donald Trump was on, and he was such a strange color of orange I wasn’t sure if he was human. Vanessa Hudgens was also on, and she was super pretty and very cute. Then Oh Land (I think that’s how you spell it) performed and it was very strange. All in all, it was very fun.

After that, I wandered from theater to theater to see what kind of tickets I could score, and I think that was the night I saw Billy Elliot.

Oh, I should add, I tried the Wicked lotto every night, and every single night, out of say, 30 tickets, 28 of them were won by Asian people who did not seem to speak English. I was very amused that the actress playing Elphaba (the green witch) was named Teal in real life.

Ok, I’m done for now. I’m still working on figuring out how to make the Book Talk forum interactive.

The Yellow Ones Don’t Stop

My first full day all by myself in New York City! Go me! I survived moving trucks and airplanes, had a healthy dinner of fried items in a comedy club, and found my way back to my hotel all by my lonesome.

What was in store for me on my second day? Starbucks, of course. Of the 9 that were within leaping distance, I chose the one to the left. Yeah, I have no idea what street it was on and I figure it doesn’t really matter.

After I got my coffee, I planted myself on a wall right in front of the TKTS booth on Times Square. It was noon. The booth opened at 2pm. I wanted to be first in line. Also, there are a BAZILLION dogs that walk through Times Square (with their owners, not by themselves). So I wanted to see how many I could pet.

I was annoyed by a camera guy standing next to me and interrupting my dog petting, so I started to move, and the lady who was with the camera guy asked me what I thought of the display of the FBI’s Most Wanted on the Times Square tv thing. I said that I thought they should get rid of the word jumble game that was showing at that moment, and put more bad guys on. She said “Would you say that on tv?” and I said “Sure”. Then a dog walked by and I was temporarily distracted, but she was on her cell phone, so I’m pretty sure she just told me to wait. So I waited and I pet more dogs. Then my big moment came and she interviewed me on camera and asked me about the East Coast Rapist. I’m pretty sure I sounded like I knew what she was talking about, because basically, you have to figure, a rapist is bad, whether he’s from the east coast or the west coast. So it’s a safe bet to say that you are not in favor of the East Coast Rapist and that you’d like him to get caught. What did they expect me to say? “I’m from the midwest, so I really don’t care what he does on the east coast”. Anyway, it was neat to be on tv. And at 1, I got in line (I was first) for TKTS.

I was sitting next to a group of Asian girls who barely spoke English. The elected a spokesperson, and she talked to me. She was asking what shows would be good for people who don’t understand English very well. I like to be asked about things I like, and I happen to like theater very, very much, so I had a lot to say on the subject. I think she probably got about 10% of it, but I didn’t care, because I was basically talking to hear myself, not to inform her. My soliloquy attracted the attention of the people in line behind the Asians, and they started asking me what I’ve seen, how many times, etc. I can trump most people with that – RENT over 50 times, Les Mis and Phantom over 25 each, and the list goes on. So I made sure I mentioned every single show I’ve ever seen in my life. And then they started asking me what I thought of shows I hadn’t seen, like The Addams Family and American Idiot. Well, God forbid they should think I don’t know everything, so I told them exactly what I thought of those shows. By now a group had formed around me, asking more questions and my opinion and suggestions. I was talking OUT OF MY ASS, I had NO clue what to tell anyone because I haven’t seen a current Broadway show since 2006. But damn did I give those people advice. And they followed it! I got people to move out of the “Musicals” line and into the “Straight Play” line to see That Championship Season. I stage managed it, so I do actually know the show, but I haven’t freaking seen it on Broadway. Anyway, as I was giving my fans my wealth of made up knowledge, a guy walked by and said “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” was on the board for that day. That’s when I stopped orating and concentrated on shoving anyone out of my way to get a ticket for that show. Do I love that show? No, I actually kind of hate it. But Daniel Radcliffe and John Laroquette are in it, and there was no way I was going to miss seeing Harry Potter…I mean, Daniel Radcliffe…in person. I got a front row seat.

This is where my true Buddy the Elf nature comes in. I was crossing the street with a bunch of other people to go back to my hotel (they weren’t going to my hotel, I was) (also, I only cross the street with a group of people because otherwise I feel like people are watching me) and a taxi made a right hand turn on a red light, and he went really, REALLY fast and came to an abrupt halt. Not abrupt enough, though, because I got hit by the taxi. Not enough to get knocked over, but enough to shove me and leave a giant bruise from my hip to my knee. I’ve been hit by cars before, so I know the protocol – pretend nothing happened and keep walking as if you are fine, otherwise you will be publicly humiliated. The first time I got hit by a car was in a Giant Eagle parking lot, and the car backed into me and I tipped over on to their trunk and sort of slid off back into a standing position. Then I started walking like nothing happened, as people were rushing over to me, and I turned to a woman and said “My God, I almost just died” and then I went inside and did my grocery shopping. So anyway, I get hit by a taxi and then I went back to my hotel and took a nap.

I arrived at the theater super early, hoping to catch Harry Potter…I mean, Daniel Radcliffe…going in. He was already in. John Laroquette walked right by me, but he was wearing a baseball hat, so I didn’t recognize him, because that’s all it takes for me to not recognize someone. A hat. Then the person next to me said “That was him, you know”, and I said “CRAP! I missed my chance!” and that was that.

The show itself was not great. It was only their third preview, so I’m sure it will get better. Harry Potter is not a good actor – but he is adorable and he can dance like the dickens, and I could have touched him from where I was sitting.

After the show, I tried to stage door stalk, but only about 800 other people had that idea, too, and I got so smushed and shoved and groped that I went back to my hotel.

My next post dated entry will be about Dave Letterman, Three Monkeys chicken fingers, and the Lion King.

I Drove a Giant Moving Truck to Virginia

If my past tense/future perfect/past perfect future tenses don’t make sense, that’s because I’m writing this and the next couple blogs after the fact. I took PLENTY of notes, but didn’t have access to this iWeb thing, so I couldn’t actually post anything.

Ok, so I was all gung ho about driving a 10 foot moving truck from Cleveland, Ohio to Richmond, Virginia. I thought, hey, cool, a giant truck. As I mentioned before, it wasn’t so much a truck as it was a metal box of death. So instead of leaving at 3am and driving straight through with my cousin driving behind me, I decided to drive half way there on Saturday, stay at a hotel, and drive the rest of the way on Sunday. Best freaking choice I’ve ever made.

For those of you who don’t know, I have a tendency to fall asleep. Driving, talking, walking, sitting, standing, in public places, at work, at school, while sitting at the kitchen table helping AJ with homework – I can pass out at literally any minute. This has become a bit of an issue with my driving. Towards the end of my 4.5 hour drive to my stopping point, I started falling asleep. Yes, I can fall asleep even while terrified and driving a truck. So I decided that in order to stay awake, I need to be entertained, so I started waving frantically and enthusiastically to every semi-truck that passed me. The most I got was a hesitant, unenthusiastic wave back, but hey, it kept me awake. I think maybe they thought I was a “special” trucker, but in my heart of hearts, I know I am a true trucker.

I got to my hotel where expedia.com had supposedly made my reservations. Long story short, I got my room, paid twice, and was refunded once. I jumped on the bed. I watched the Disney channel without anyone making fun of me. I parallel parked the 10 foot truck. And the next morning I started out bright and early after driving the horribly awkward truck through a Starbucks drive through, which may not have been the best choice. I have learned not to do that anymore. I also paid 2$ for a Gatorade out of a vending machine and it was supposed to be green and it came out orange.

This part of the trip went pretty quick, except for the fact that you can not trust Google Maps on the iPhone to get you where you are going. I took a few detours. BUT I GOT THERE! My cousin Shannon had to back the truck into a parking spot because I do NOT drive trucks (or cars) backwards. It confuses me and I panic when I have to figure out which way to turn the wheel.

With a TON of help from my cousin Mark (Shannon’s brother), we got the truck unloaded and into the condo. I met the neighbor’s dogs, and I’m pretty sure they had humans with them, but I don’t remember that part.

We had dinner, and I am totally exposing my cousins here, but this is too funny to pass up. When Shannon got me alone, she said about her brother “I have so much work to do on him”. When Mark got me alone, he said about his sister, “I have so much work to do on her”. I wonder if they have any idea what they are in for! But the cool part is that Shannon LOVES her sister in law, brother, and niece and nephew, and that will be a great help to Mark and Lauren. See the Quotes section of my webpage for some pretty awesome quotes from them!

Mark took me to my hotel, which totally kicked ass. The Double Tree by the airport in Richmond. They gave us cookies when we checked in. Then my room was just awesome. I jumped on more beds. I watched Glee on Hulu. I had a lovely time. On a less positive note, Mark got stuck for hours in traffic because of a huge accident where there were dead people and everything. So one point for me, and one point for me traumatizing my cousin in the process.

Check out was at noon, but my flight wasn’t until 3, but I’m such a paranoid flyer, I was ok being there that early. Then my flight was delayed by 3 hours. It was storming out. More things that are not good for a nervous flyer. I was on my third Dramamine and third Klonopin at this point, so I was pretty much ready for anything. I read a book on my Kindle. Which book, you ask? I have no idea. Some YA novel about vampires, what else? Every YA novel these days is about vampires.

I boarded the plane like a pro, put my backpack in the overhead compartment and kept my purse with me….and as I sat there, I panicked because Moose Moose was in my backpack and I needed him. I needed him NOW. So I got up rather abruptly, hit my head on the ceiling, opened the overhead thingy and had my backpack fall out on me. Needless to say, at this point, everyone was watching me. So they watched me pull a stuffed Moose out of my backpack, stuff my backpack back in the overhead thingy, and sit down with the Moose. They got a show, and I felt better. Win/win.

Here’s what I did not expect – flying into JFK and being dropped off in the middle of the tarmac which I had to get to by going down an really steep, unstable, see through flight of stairs that my ass could barely fit through. And I was holding a Moose, a backpack and a purse. Then I had to walk through the rain to find my luggage.

I had been warned NOT to take a taxi from the airport, so I found a nice lady (actually, she was really pissed off and bitter) who arranges transportation to hotels. By the end of our transaction, my “I’m not quite retarded, but it’s a fine line” personality had won her over and she was laughing and calling me honey.

The Van of Death pulled up and I got in, the front seat, thankfully. There were people stuffed like sardines in the back rows and I probably would have thrown up on them at that point. 45 minutes later, and several near death experiences later, I arrived at my hotel, which was lovely…and had cookies. I checked in to my room, jumped on the bed, set up all my stuff and promptly went out to wander the streets of NYC. Food was becoming a glaring necessity, as I hadn’t eaten all day for fear of throwing up on people. Some guy said “Want tickets to a comedy club?” and I said “Is there food?” and he said “yes”, so I went. It was actually really funny and my dinner consisted of tortilla chips and mozzarella sticks.

I went back to my hotel and pretty much dropped over dead from a long ass day, but it was totally cool and I loved it. I already had theaters plotted out and found all 9 Starbucks within a two minute walk from me.