I'm currently sitting at my desk at the Sheraton Hotel outside of Washington D.C. while my roommates are practically spooning in bed. After sharing a bed for two nights, this is thankfully my night to have one to myself.
Now why am I in Washington D.C.? On Friday I could have given you a straightforward answer, but after three screaming-children-filled nights, one very shitty meal, and one mental breakdown later, I'm currently re-evaluation my life choices. I'm not even sure why I'm here anymore.
Ok. The truth is my choir decided to come to D.C. to perform a series of shows after we were thrown into the spotlight as a result of our critically-acclaimed Saturday Night Live performance. Realistically, our choir director probably just called some friends up and asked if they would want us to sing, but I like telling myself that we were invited to come so that I feel important.
We were on a bus for 5 hours on Friday. I had to vote to watch August Rush just to avoid Madagascar 3. I hate August Rush.
I planned to get work done but all I ended up doing was reading a little bit of a book and finishing an English paper I had fallen asleep writing the night before. I guess I couldn't expect much from the bus ride since there were 2000 little kids all screaming/singing songs that are not ok to sing on a bus (i.e. songs we had to sing at our concerts and that I was tired of hearing).
We eventually sang our concerts and I took 500+ photos, but now one of the guys I'm rooming with is leaning over my shoulder, so I'll use this as an appropriate time to sign off.
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