I spent almost an hour making some basil-roasted potatoes... they kinda turned into roasted potatoes in burgundy sauce except that I used the chianti instead of chatreuse or bordeaux. Still tastes good, but I believe that I myself am a bit drunk just from the sheer amount of wine used while cooking. If I wake up with a hangover I will kill.
But I digress... later father asks me to do several menial tasks which he himself is very well capable of doing. Naturally I get a bit ticked off, and when he starts insulting the music I'm listening to (the english version of "Quizas, quizas, quizas" by Doris Day) by singing along badly, my sour mood turned lethal.
Right now they're copying segments from the performances sis and I have had for the past three years to "show the family in the Philippines" (read:brag about how cultured and sophisticated we have raised our children to be) late into the night. Their presence downstairs at this time of the night is hindering me from taking my midnight stroll 'round the neighborhood. Pity. And the stars look so beautiful tonight as well...
I'd rant and rave about my trust issues, but I haven't talked to Matt at all today. Strangely enough, it doesn't seem right to go into explanation here about something without consulting home first.
Yargh. And I did call DJ, but his line was busy. Franky again? Oi vey...
"A million times I ask you, and then, I ask you over again. You only answer: 'perhaps perhaps perhaps'. If you can't make your mind up we'll never get started, and I don't want to wind up being cold and broken hearted... so if you really love me, say: 'yes', but you don't dear, confess. And please don't tell me: 'perhaps perhaps perhaps.' "
Baz Luhrman has a sensational ability to direct sensual dance segments (ex. the "behind the curtain" dance in Strictly Ballroom, the tango in Moulin Rouge, and the slight dance in Romeo+Juliet).
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