On Friday night the weekend got started with a birthday party in 101. I have no idea who Lia is but I will admit, without shame, that I was very disappointed she didn't have cake at her party since that was the only reason I went down in the first place. You can say I'm a terrible person. During the course of the party I was somewhat convinced to head to Camden with the crew to go to some Electric... thing... dance place. So I headed up to take a shower and get changed but to my chagrin the whole group had already left by the time I was ready. Tom (who had crashed the party with me earlier) was still here though. I chatted on Skype for a good bit with my family since Grammie and Grandpa and Danny AND Timmy were in town and afterwards I watched Cruel Intentions with Tom.
Cruel Intentions is an insanely depressing movie. I almost want to be physically sick as I'm watching the antics of these mega-rich, private school New Yorkers. Somebody please tell me they don't exist in real life. Albeit depressing, I also love the soundtrack. To whomever can listen to this song for hours on end and not contemplate suicide, I salute you. I didn't get quite to that point on Saturday since 501 was (finally) having a movie night!!!! I was cheered up immensely by The Fantastic Mr. Fox. George Clooney cures most everything. As do the folks in 501.
On Sunday I headed out with the same lovely people for Brick Lane. We wandered around for a few hours and I fought the urge to buy every cheap, little, frilly dress I saw. The sequined ones too. Remarkable self-control. We grabbed lunch in the cafeteria-type place and I nearly choked on my Kung Po Chicken. I had a cough and it was spicy and when I inhaled the spiciness I started crying big, fat tears and was out of commission for a few minutes. Tizzy was very worried. After lunch we wandered around a bit more and then decided to head home. On our way home, we kept an eye out for a nice little coffee shop or somewhere we could enjoy crepes but with no luck. So we decided to go home and make our own crepes and coffee. Sophie, you make much better crepes than Selfridges. I would know because I tasted a Selfridge crepe when I went there with Adam who was shocked that I'd never been in Selfridges. What can I say, a fashionista, I am not. Price tags in swanky stores make me ill.