Oct. 23 - The Greatest Day EVER

Holy shit. The Criterion Edition of Breathless comes out this day, but I've just found out that... Oh, fuck, I'm so excited - NEW KUBRICK BOX SET! FINALLY!

Oh, happy day. I never bought the one that came out years ago because it was fucking shitty and ridiculously overpriced. It's been a real bummer not owning some of my very favorite films by my very favorite filmmaker on DVD all these years. All I've got is Dr. Strangelove (how many times have the released special editions of that fucker now?) and the Criterion Spartacus, but Spartacus only counts a little since he didn't direct the first two weeks and distanced himself form the film. On VHS I had The Killing, Dr. Strangelove, 2001, A Clockwork Orange, The Shining, and Full Metal Jacket. I think that's it. All of those short of Strangelove and The Killing are getting two disc releases (with commentaries), AND AND AND Eyes Wide Shut, the real version will be included! Fucking finally! It's never been available in the U.S. which has been nothing short of ridiculous. God, I can't wait to own that. I love that movie so much and have gotten into screaming matches defending it. I'm not afraid to do so again.

So, no Lolita and, even lamer, no Barry Lydon (and no Killer's Kiss, but that wasn't expected, anyway). I'm cool with that, though. This set will be fairly affordable (80 dollars for the set when Breathless will be 30 dollars alone), at least. If for some reason I can't get it immediately I'll at least get it by Christmas. That makes me so happy. Oh, life is fucking grand. I wonder if Owen Wilson knows about this. Perhaps it could improve his life as well.

I'm embarrassed by how happy this makes me. Best news ever.

My Lonely Package

I ordered two books from Amazon over a week ago and they just went out to ship yesterday evening. They haven't been anywhere other than the post office in Lexington, Kentucky so far. The package isn't expected to arrive at its destination until September 4, at the earliest. The problem, however, is that this package is being delivered to my former apartment in Columbia instead of the lovely town I currently live in. Since no one I know lives in this apartment, I'm worried about how I'm going to get my package here. I'm not entirely sure they'll need a signature. It seems like, in the past, they just left Amazon packages at the door. That's what they've done for me here, too. I don't want anyone snatching my books!

So, what should I do? Yeah, I know I'm an idiot for mucking this up, but it was one of those one-click order deals and it didn't dawn on me that this was going to happen because I am stupid. I e-mailed both USPS and Amazon about this and am waiting on their one to two day response time. Should I call the USPS? I've looked all over their site and they've got all these numbers and stuff. Guh. I'm hoping that, with the information I provided in my e-mail, they'll just be able to pull the package in Lexington and re-address it, but something tells me it's not going to be that easy. I was going to just call a general help line but I get all nervous about things like that and am hoping that they'll at least tell me what to do when/if they respond to my e-mail. I hope I don't lose my books.

UPDATE: USPS will not change the address due to security reasons. Yeesh. So, I'm writing a letter to whoever lives in my old apartment and hoping for the best. Goddammit.

I Am Alan Partridge, Suicide Inspirer

Courtney Love is claiming that Steve Coogan is partly responsible for Owen Wilson's suicide attempt! I am thoroughly confused and wish I were half as interested. Sorry for linking TMZ. I read TMZ now because of this. I'm such a loser.

Bruno S. is a Man to Me

My allergies were trouble this morning, so around noon I took some allergy medicine. That made me feel completely sick for the rest of the day. I could barely walk straight. If I can't handle allergy medicine how did I ever manage 300mgs a day of anti-depressants? And I think I should go back to that? Bleck.

I have mosquito bites all over the back of my neck and on both elbows. Why did they choose those spots? Why won't they leave me alone? Sometimes I will see a mosquito on my arm and I'll just watch her suck my blood. They'll suck for quite a while if you don't do something about it.

I watched Year of the Dog today. I like Mike White and all, but I was not in the mood for this movie. It was supposed to be a dramedy or whatever; in fact, in the special features every talked about how perfectly the comedy and drama was blended; but it wasn't funny. Even if I had been in a great mood the best comedic reaction it would have gotten from me would have been one of those closed-mouth "Huhs..." that is too lazy to be a chuckle. Fuck, that movie was depressing. And kind of dumb. I would say I liked it, though, strangely. Sort of. Barely.

Brass Eye is one of the funniest television shows ever. In case you were wondering.

I was supposed to go to Columbia this past weekend but backed out an hour or so before I was supposed to leave. I just didn't want to go. It seems like I should want to. I feel like I'm about to make the jump from anti-social creep to anti-social creep who can't even pretend to function in society anymore. I almost wonder if that's what I actually want. I'm like a horse with a broken leg who has the chance to go to a farm for horses with broken legs instead of the glue factory but I'm still managing to lollygag because I hate other horses. Oh, well.

Did you know that Napoleon was probably Kaspar Hauser's grandfather, via his Napoleon's adopted daughter Stéphanie de Beauharnais? Me neither. That's the only interesting thing I've learned recently. Other than Honest Abe Lincoln being a drama queen on a level comparable to my hierarchy. His late 20s remind me a lot of my junior year of high school.

Talk about a forced blog entry. Why write in a blog if you don't want to? Lame.

Fingerblasted

A Series of Letters to the First Girl I Ever Fingered by Michael Ian Black.

I've Got Nothing to Say

Things have been really weird lately. There was good news today. There was also other news. I'm having serious allergy issues from being outside all day. Werner Herzog is something. I can only imagine what Owen Wilson will have to put up with if he tries to continue on with his life. God, that would suck. Yeah, sorry I fucked up your movie, Ben Stiller. Sorry I made you feel guilty about making out with that douchebag from Punk'd in the grocery store, Kate Hudson. Sorry I tried to kill myself a few weeks before your movie I'm staring in came out, Wes Anderson. Sorry I can't do press for it and sorry that all the press everyone else does will be about me attempting suicide. That sucks. If there's a Hollywood dude I would want to hang out with, he is the dude. If he can't make it, well, Godspeed to the rest of us.

Moby Dick

Have any of you ever read Moby Dick? Or tried to? How hard is it? I want to try but know I am destined to fail. I've gathered that the middle is rougher than a white squall. <---- Sailor talk!

My Aching Guts

Well, now I'm all sorts of worried. Doctors and hospitals and medical procedures and awkwardness and insecurities and an unrelenting compulsion to care too much. Perspective is the pimp to the whore that is denial and this ho just got strong-armed. Life just keeps on coming no matter how hard you try to hide from it. Guh...

Change is Bad Unless You've Got Enough to Buy a Root 44 Vanilla Dr. Pepper ($1.82)

I'm trying to change my blog duds, as you can see, but it's not working out so well. There's a lot of blue left and I've yet to figure out how to change it. I have to do it all in HTML and I'm not good at that. I'll try some more later but will probably fail. I will probably go back to the same template I had before because I can't find any that look decent enough and change is bad, anyway.

UPDATE: I went with a new template instead. I wish it weren't all blue but I'm not willing to change the colors, so this is it. Now with obnoxious widgets and a new one on the way soon!

Marijuana - Not For The Ladies

This blogging about women and pot in The Stranger is kind of interesting. I wonder if the ladies really do feel pressure to not smoke pot because of their gender's status in society? Or whatever they were getting at. I think I know more women who smoke pot than men, but then I only know 11 people or so. The quoted part makes a fair amount of sense but it does leave the door open to imply that smoking pot can be a feminist act, as noted by Femiladyism. Surely being able to smoke pot with the same lack of judgment a man supposedly receives is not a goal of one of the many feminist movements these days, right? Isn't it a good thing to look down on men who do nothing but smoke pot all day? Not to mention the fact that Calvin Klein has made it perfectly clear that being a female junkie is sexy and cool. I don't know of any women who enjoyed fingerblasting themselves while watching episodes of "Shooting Sizemore", but what do I know. Women get the junk, men get the *insert slang term for marijuana that rhymes with "junk" here* (there has to be one). Fair is fair.

The Temptation of Adam

This song makes me want to die it's so good. Seriously, it has convinced me that the apocalypse is upon us and it is a good thing.

Change In Plans

I've recently concluded in the past five minutes that I need to become engaged to be married on the double. This can't go on any longer. I refuse to be alone forever. I'm twenty-six years old! Do you understand that people? I need a wife and I need one now. Don't worry about me being a fucking loser; we'll work that out later. Are there more than two girls who read this? Do you have desperate friends? If so, I want to meet them. Tell them I'm writing a play! I doubt they've ever been engaged to a real life playwright* before! What about the person who reads this blog in France? Are you a lady? Would like you to be a Missus?

Seriously, at least give me some leads here people. I'm looking for a wife, not a slut. A slutty wife, maybe. I've got to lock this down, son. I don't blog this early in the goddamn morning unless it's really important. This life of solitude will no longer stand. I'm not a goddamn monk. Yet.

* The dictionary does not back me up on this, so maybe my future wife needs to be a dummy, too, not to be too picky...

Here's Something I Hate

I started writing this play today and it was going really well. I've written seven or eight pages fairly painlessly and I've got lots of notes and a fairly decent idea of what I intend to go on. I know writing a play is a fairly worthless thing to do, but that's not the point. I was just glad to be pleased with my efforts and slightly confident about the idea of finishing such a thing. But then...

Then I heard a song I had never heard before and it's the most beautiful song I've ever listened to. And it couldn't make me feel more worthless. I hate that.

Happy Lonely Fun Sad Time

If I sent you a text message about a bridge in Korea last night, you're welcome.

Mandy Backdoor?

I'm watching "I Am Mandy Moore" on Oxygen right now. It's just a documentary type thing of the promotion for her new album. Right now she's going on about Zack Braff but pretending that she's not. Guh. I keep forgetting she dated Zack Braff. I also can't believe she gave her virj to Wilmer Vladalaimpaler or whoever. I hate that.

Anyway, I listened to samples of all the songs on Mandy's new album at Barnes and Noble a few weeks back and I concluded that it is not good. I wanted it to be good but it's not. I figured Adam Duritz could write a better song than that, but then I remembered he pretty much blows, too.

Now she's singing her teeny bopper hit "Candy" and she had to use her Blackberry to Google search the lyrics she no longer remembers. That's kind of funny. Where was I?

Oh, yeah - her album sucks. I wish it didn't. I really like her and want to hug her and have anal sex with her if she's into that but be fine with it if she's not; I just want to make Mandy happy. I think I could write a good album for her. I think I will. I'm also barely sort of writing a play that I just realized she would be perfect for! She could even be in my western, too! Someone get me Mandy's number, posthaste! We've got business to do and love to make.

PLANS FOR THE REST OF THE DAY:

* Write a song for Mandy Moore
* Return DVDs to store
* Get Mandy Moore's number
* Watch The Man With the Golden Arm and The Host
* Get drunk alone
* Possibly blog about being drunk alone

God, I'm fucking bored.

The Lost Weekend?

Tonight I watched Zodiac. I liked it. Robert Downey, Jr. has never been bad in anything. One of the better actors to ever live as far as I'm concerned.

Tomorrow I intend to watch Hot Fuzz (again), The Host, and The Man With the Golden Arm. I doubt that will cover the entire day, though, but I'm sure there will be a good movie on cable after I get those out of the way. I might try to watch five movies tomorrow. That would tie my record.

I saw Superbad today. I actually went to the theater here. That's kind of a big deal for me, although there was no one there so maybe it's not a big deal. I'm still terrified of people. Superbad was really funny but it made me sad and I've kind of been pouting around ever since seeing it. I don't know why I think about that guy who is not Michael Cera. I like him, but I think he over does it a bit. I see myself getting very tired of him in the future. Also, Clark only had one line in this movie! Lame. I guess I just really want a Clark and Michael movie, but Superbad was, indeed, very funny and I will probably buy it when it comes out on dvd and stuff.

I think I will also get drunk because I feel like I need to. Not in a fun way, though, in a wrap your troubles in wine kind of way.

I have some ideas about some stuff I'm going to do. We'll see how that pans out. Anyway, fuck you guys later. I'm ow-tuh.

The Proposition

Holy moly. I finally saw this movie for the first time and it was excellent. This John Hillcoat fella is the real deal. There were a few scenes I didn't like much camera wise but there were several that were just gorgeous. It's his first film, though, and I can't say what I disliked took much away from the film. It was really good.

Anyway, this movie is two years old now and this news is a few months old, but apparently he will be directing the film version of The Road. While I really don't think the book needs a movie version (unlike No Country For Old Men, which is perfect for a movie), this news has piqued my interest.

And I guess he's doing another Nick Cave film named after a Leonard Cohen song called Death of a Ladies Man about a sex addict. More great news. I'll be waiting for everything this guy does with baited breath.

In other news, I'm lonely and bored and depressed all the time. Wait a second - that's not news! I will be spending the weekend alone hoping and praying that Netflix (I just signed up for Netflix today - again) gets me my movies by at least Saturday. If they don't, I'm fucked. I can't have a tolerable weekend without them.

PIZZA ATTACK!

I'm being bombarded with images and literature about pizza today! Everywhere I look, pizza. I haven't had non-Lean Cuisine pizza in months and the withdrawl symptoms are hitting hard today.

I don't know...

This is hard. It's early afternoon and I've been thinking about it since 8:00 this morning. Guh... I can't. I can't.

I can't.

Oh, no.

The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter

It comes out in six days.



It's going to be crazy good. Best album of the year? I don't know, I haven't heard it, but I'm looking forward to it. There have been a lot of good albums out this year, but a few of them are pop punk albums so if you're a fully grown adult you probably don't listen to any of that. I don't blame you. I can't help it, though.

1:31:1, Window Boxed, Yet D.P. Approved...

Breathless, out in October.



Two discs but no commentary. WTF? No commentary seems to be the new trend these days. I want more commentaries! Are there no film scholars out there willing to talk about the Nouvelle vague film? Meh. Oh, well. It will still be great, I suppose.

You Won't Have Nixon to Kick Around Anymore

Mitch Clem did a comic of The Mr. T Experience's song "Checkers Speech" and it's really great. I saw this linked on Dr. Frank's blog.

I recommend reading the comic while listening to the song, if possible. Go here to see it:

Here

The U.S. of Disgusting

Today I was stuck waiting in the drive-thru of a terribly uninteresting but all too new food-in-a-bag shop when a woman who was 70-years-old if she was a day walked over and stood about five feet in front of the sweet PT. She was smoking what appeared to be her one millionth cigarette. A celebration must have been in order, which explained her attire - a one piece backless bathing suit with cotton shorts that were far too short for a 30-year-old, let alone her old bones. Her skin looked as if someone had shaved a Shar-pei, skinned it, fried the skin, and then tanned and aged it with some sort of traditional Native American technique I do not understand. I would guess she weighed an even 100 pounds had she been wearing a fully loaded fanny pack. Her hair made me think of a used coffin shop. She had a vein bulging out of her arm that was actually bigger than her arm. She was a classy broad.

Long story short, this wretched piece of filth came and stood five feet in front of my car, stared at the menu for roughly 30 seconds, and shoved her hand up her ass for at least half that time. Normally I'm pretty sensitive to the plights of the elderly, but this old sack of dried up turds needs to throw on a burka or stay in her goddamn house. I'm fairly repulsive in my own right but I do my best to not flaunt it. I think it's every Americans duty to pretend to not be disgusting. If you can't help it you can't help it, but at least you can try. I don't think that's too much to ask.

Worst Idea Ever

I think I want a tattoo.

You're saying to yourself, "But you hate tattoos!"

I'm saying to you, I know. That's why this is the worst idea ever. Maybe I'll get over it.

Life Is Hell

I was recording this new song I wrote and I was having fun and it was what I had planned to do for the next hour but I broke a stupid string and we all know that I don't buy guitar strings because it's annoying. So now I'll never be able to record this song and no one will ever be able to not listen to it like the other songs I recorded this week. My weekend just went from bad to awful. Why can't Superbad be out this weekend? WHHHHHAAAAAA! <--- That is me crying.

Also, poor emotional health leads to gum disease. Fucking great.

UPDATE: Life has gotten slightly better because I got a free Chunklet t-shirt in the mail today! I'm moving on up to purgatory.

Here's Something Stupid I Think About

When I go to war, who will write me letters? As far as I know, I'm not going to war, but - what if I were? WHAT IF I WERE? I don't know how much Internet access you get in Warville, but I think it's not much. I would want real letters.

I think I've got it figured out who would and who wouldn't, and, well, it's not that pretty. It's better than nothing, though. Problem is, I don't think I would keep getting letters my entire tour. Why? Well, there are several reasons, but I think a lot of it has to do with the relationships I've developed with my friends and family being kind of based on bullshit. I don't really talk about myself all that much, at least nothing particularly personal, so all I ever really say to anyone is "Kobe Bryant", "Dr. Pepper", "30 Rock", "movies are cool", "cable TV is fun", "going outside is hot", "movies are still cool", "I could probably get drunk", and "I saw this thing on the Internet". When I've got my balls on the table overseas, worried about getting them chopped off, all of those topics of conversation seem fairly futile.

It wouldn't be like in the movies. Things never are. Wait, that's not true - when my dad went to war he got letters from my mom that I'm sure were all dramatic and loving and sad and all that junk just like in the movies. Well, it wouldn't be like in the movies for me, at least. I guess that's why I'm not in the military. I thought about signing up a few times, years ago. I'm probably the only person who wanted to join the military for the romance, but I never went through with it, anyway. I still could. It still doesn't sound like a terrible idea. I checked the ARMY boot camp graduation requirements. I can already do more than enough push-ups to graduate. I'm not much of a runner these days, but I can learn. I need a haircut.

That's what I thought about for two and a half hours while trying to fall asleep last night. Guh...

MOVIES!

There are so many great movies yet to come out this year. All the movies below are linked to their trailers. I'll be lucky to see a few of these in the theater. That's ridiculously depressing...

No Country For Old Men (Coens do Cormac McCarthy. FUCK. YES.)
The Darjeeling Limited (Wes Anderson)
Superbad (Michael Cera + Seth Rogan = awesome)
There Will Be Blood (P.T. Anderson and Daniel Day Lewis)
Rescue Dawn (Werner and Bale and gross bug eating)
The Brothers Solomon (Will Arnett, directed by Bob Odenkirk)
Lars and the New Girl (My future)
3:10 to Yuma (Russell Crowe western, directed by Walk the Line guy)
2 Days in Paris (I LOVE Julie Delpy and this looks funny)
Margot at the Wedding (Noah Baumbach)
This Is England (looks so amazing. Already out, but not around here.)

This and That

I was giving some pretty serious thought to buying a first edition of The Man With the Golden Arm on Ebay yesterday, but somebody snatched it up. And now, of course, I feel like it was a big mistake not getting it. I'm not sure why, though. The last thing I need is to start pretending to collect first edition/first pressing books. That's expensive like whoa, yo. I really think the "Buy It Now" price on the book I wanted was about 1/5 the value, even without the cover. Meh...

Last night I watched the first episode of "Hard Knocks", which is featuring the Chiefs this season. There was this guy in the locker room (I think he was an unsigned free agent? I didn't catch his name) who did this sort of stripper dance in his body armor onesie and he did this thing with his butt that was insane. It was powerful. I guess you just had to see it. I've seen this move in many hip hop videos, where women with bountiful bottoms flex their cheeks and let them go really fast, creating a sort of ripple effect. I don't know. I don't really get it. That doesn't entice me. If I like your ass I like your ass; you don't need to make it to do tricks to impress me.

You've got seven days and 11 hours to bid on a date with Brett Ratner for charity. Roman Polanski's BFF is going for two grand already. I need to start making a list of questions to ask him in case I magically win this auction, and believe me, it would take some serious Chris Angel shit for me to win.

Mr. Ratner, why does everything about you strike me as utterly disgusting?

What's Chris Tucker really like?

Just how high was Lindsay Lohan when she let you fuck her? Pretty high, right? Like, on a different planet high?

What inspired you more when directing the Jessica Simpson music video for "These Boots are Made For Walkin'" - tits, ass, or money?

Steven Spielberg will burn in a very special part of hell for starting your career. Oh, that's not a question? Sorry.

I should just start a new blog called Brett Ratner Must Die. Hopefully that name is already taken.

This has been a weird week. I've got a whole bunch of nothing to do this weekend so that will be... you know... nothing. Oh, to be young and social.

When I Kiss You All I Taste Is Ringo

Hilarity.

Why is Eric Clapton famous again? I never really figured that one out...

Questionnaire de Proust

This is that questionnaire Marcel Proust took when he was 13-years-old. I will probably do the one from when he was 20 sometime later because I will still be bored.

1. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Dead love. Hopeless love. Everything about love, really, except for the good parts.

2. Where would you like to live?
The French Alps. London, England. Galway, Ireland. Whitehorse, Yukon Territory. Eastern Mexico. Lima, Peru.

3. What is your idea of earthly happiness?
Love, excluding the bad parts. Film. Music. Beauty. Knowledge. Touching.

4. To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
Unassertiveness. Insecurities. Sadness. Anxiety.

5. Who are your favorite heroes of fiction?
Rick Blaine in Casablanca, Shane in Shane, Holly Martins in The Third Man.

6. Who are your favorite characters in history?
Abraham Lincoln. Nelson Algren. Ernest Hemingway. Humphrey Bogart. Too many to name.

7. Who are your favorite heroines in real life?
Eleanor Roosevelt. Dorothy Parker. Simone de Beauvoir.

8. Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
I wouldn't exactly call her a heroine, but Celine in Before Sunrise/Before Sunset.

9. Your favorite painter?
Utagawa Hiroshige. Thomas Hart Benton. Vincent Van Gogh. I don't know much about painters.

10. Your favorite musician?
Hank Williams. Bob Dylan. Daniel Johnston. Townes Van Zandt. Dolly Parton.

11. The quality you most admire in a man?
I'm not sure how to describe it, but being a real man. Being confident and strong and not taking any guff and taking care of your family and not taking your problems out on those you love, etc...

12. The quality you most admire in a woman?
Patience.

13. Your favorite virtue?
Empathy.

14. Your favorite occupation?
Being inspired.

15. Who would you have liked to be?
A lot of the people I respect the most lived pretty tough lives... Hmmm... James Stewart?

Turn Out the Lights, the Party's Over

Friday night I hung out with people. Saturday night I hung out with person. Up past 1:00 a.m. both nights. The fact that people can not only do this every weekend, but do it with alcohol, is beyond me. I think I am officially too old for any of that business. Not. Tough. Enough.

Bekah and I saw La Vie En Rose tonight. While it was not I Know Who Killed Me, Mr. Brooks, or Who's Your Caddy? (all three of my suggestions), it was really good. Edith Piaf's life was slightly harder than mine. Marion Cotillard will be nominated for several awards for this movie and she'll probably win zero of them. She was excellent like whoa, though.

Seeing Bekah made me happy in a way I wasn't expecting, which, naturally, I find fairly depressing as well. I was kind of a shithead all night. If I had to have a casual conversation with myself I would absolutely hate it. Not only do I need to start having conversations with people on a regular basis, I also need change the way I converse on the whole. I'm just not very good at it. I'm a pretty fucked-up person, but I'm getting better. Really, I am, in a weird slow way. I wish I could see Bekah everyday. I think I would learn to be less shitty much quicker if I did.

Tomorrow morning I have a showdown with the scale. I think it will finally show me a number I was expecting to see three weeks ago. Have I gotten over the hump? Even if I finally have, will it last? Does it matter at all? Only in that the future of The Soda Diet is at risk. Dear God, please protect The Soda Diet. I don't think I can diet without it.

Coming Soon: Chinatown 2010, Directed by Brett Ratner

I got hopped up on coffee last night and talked more than I have in the past two months combined. My throat is sore from all the rambling on I was doing. I knew coffee was a bad idea. Coffee gets me worse than bourbon. I smoked a cigarette, too, which was pretty gross. I wish I hadn't, but it was a good reminder that I do not enjoy smoking anymore. Guh... I had a nice time, though. Marne and Paul are the good guys.

I was just reading an interview with Brett Ratner in The Advocate, and besides all the silly gay talk about fingers up his butt and blowjobs from guys he thought were girls, he drops this shocking bit of knowledge (shocking to me, at least) when asked about Roman Polanski:

Roman Polanski? [He plays a cop that gives Chris and Jackie a body cavity search in Rush Hour 3.]
Legend! I mean, he's my hero. The guy is like…He's a fan of Rush Hour. That's how I got him to be in it. We're friends, but we met because he saw Rush Hour and loved it. Then we became friends. I asked him to be in the movie, and he said, "OK, you'd better write a sequel." I called to tell people, and they said “Roman Polanski is not going to be in this movie.” I said, "Yes, he is," but they didn't get it.

ROMAN POLANSKI has a cameo in Rush Hour 3. What the fuck. I know that Polanski is pretty much a creep-o rapist and all and that might explain why he and Ratner are apparently buddies, but, I mean... He's one of the greatest directors of all-time. I don't even know what to say. It just blows my mind. It's like finding out that Larry the Cable Guy and Anthony Hopkins meet every Tuesday for happy hour at the Redneck Yacht Club.

Dear Kid in the Wal-Mart Parking Lot Making Fun of Me and My Bike:

I was about an eyelash away from giving you a rim job with your own tongue. You don't know who you mock, kid. I'm going to snap one of these days and your bones will be doing the snapping. It amuses you to see a middle-aged man riding a bicycle through a parking lot at 9 o'clock in the evening, does it? Well, it amuses me to stand under the cloud of evil that stalks my every move, being drenched by showers of your blood. These are games I no longer play. I have a rage inside of me you and your buddies cannot comprehend and your school girl giggling poured an ocean of anger into my bucket of hate. Your refusal to break eye contact with me was a gale upon the dry, inflamed forest that is the violence I was placed on this earth to commit. The only reason your teeth are not permanently embedded in asphalt is a fear of breaking my glasses. Your two rubberneck pals were a genetic vision imperfection away from sucking themselves in wheelchairs for the rest of their lives. The shame I feel for blogging this as opposed to Spray 'N' Wash-ing blood stains out of my clothing right now is nearly as intense as my urge to see you suffer in an unfathomable and eternal way. Your time will come and you will rue the day you mocked me. I will drill antlers in your temples while you're still alive and mount your head in my basement. Your death will be my pride. You will rue the day.

Fuck you, kid.

Today Has Not Been Terrible... Yet

Today... has been a good day. Unfortunately, I did have to use my AK, but it was this morning and all is better now.

Good Things That Have Happened Today:

- I slept well. That's a rarity.

- My weight on the scale annoyed me, but it's probably a good thing. Despite being on The Soda Diet that I invented, I'm afraid I will have to ban Route 44 root beers from Sonic. Or, at least, cut them down to one a week. I have a very rough and depressing estimate of how many calories such a thing entails, but I've come to a dead end in on the road to Skinnyville and I need to find a new route (44 isn't working). This is depressing, but it will be good in the long run.

- I've exercised a lot today and it wasn't even painful. It was one of those enegry inducing "workouts" that happens less than five times in a lifetime.

- There's new cable here and that means every channel for free for a month! Woo! I didn't even have to download Big Love this week! (That reminds me - Big Love was CRAZY this week! I could talk about it for days but I don't know anyone who watches it. I'm still riding the wave from it's awesomeness.) I have Turner Classic Movies again, too, and Cat On a Hot Tin Roof starts in half an hour! I've never seen it and am excited. I'm watching Pee Wee's Big Adventure until then. Oh, sweet, sweet movies. I love you so.

- Speaking of movies, I get to go see a movie this weekend with a pretty girl! That doesn't happen very often, I can assure you.


I think that's it. It doesn't take much for me to have a good day. I predict it shall not last.

Does anyone who reads this have an account on Goodreads.com? If so, you should tell me so I can add you as my friend.

THERE GOES PEE WEE'S BIKE! LOOK PEE WEE, LOOK!

He missed it. Blast, I've seen better heads on boils! Take a picture, it'll last longer! An American classic. I want kids just so I can make them watch this movie someday.

This was boring. I'm going to go pump some iron.