I'm so fucking pumped to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows tomorrow. Are you fucking pumped? Great. We'll be fucking pumped together.
The Union Square subway station is plastered with promotional posters that have been haunting me for weeks. Every time I look at them I feel like my heart is going to explode. Do I sound like a nerd? Fine. I'm a nerd. Avada kedavra me already. I had hoped to go to a midnight showing this evening, but I wasn't able to find tickets to any theater that DOESN'T have a reputation of having bedbugs (bedbugs are my Lord Voldemort. Neither of us can live while the other survives, which is why I'm writing this from the grave). But tomorrow? Hoo, boy! I'm gonna drink some wine, eat some barbecue, watch me some HP and it's gonna be totally awesome. Do they make special Gryffindor diapers? 'Cause, heads up, I'll probably poop myself.
Also, can we take a moment to appreciate what lovely adults Harry, Ron and Hermione have grown into?
Especially Emma Watson. How come no one will recognize how adorable Emma Watson is?