The moment I got home from school today and slowly set my backpack down, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
I've survived another day.
It was getting pretty late by that time, so I decided to whip up some potato soup for dinner. I always have every good intention of morphing into Rachael Ray in the kitchen, but that hasn't successfully happened quite yet.
As soon as I put the soup on, my roommate came out of her room, computer in hand, with a song to show me. She argued that the song, a mellow mix of slow beats, was the perfect slow-motion-running-through-the-airport type of song. I agreed.
We became even more curious about how many good slow motion songs exist, so one of our new goals is to create a massive playlist of only the best. As my roommate started clicking through her songs to find some material for our self-appointed project, I began to act out some slow motion scenes. It's more fun and addicting than you'd think, trust me.
Amused with myself, I asked my roommate to call out some scene ideas and I began to feel like Ryan Stiles or Colin Mochrie from "Whose Line is it Anyway?" I took on the personality of a comedian, not necessarily a good one, but sufficient for my living room and a one person audience. As I acted out a baseball player hitting a home run and a distressed individual realizing they have lost their life fortune gambling, I heard some unusual noises from the stove area. My soup was boiling over and sullying our newly-cleaned stove that I spent hours scrubbing the other night. Luckily, the soup was still salvageable but my dreams of becoming Rachael Ray were dashed. Perhaps my future lies in slow motion improv acting. It's definitely an option if such a thing exists.
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