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Tales from the crypt.
Nov. 20th, 2006 12:59 amI can't sleep. I haven't really tried, but I just assume. I just watched One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. This is the first time I've seen it. What kind of pathetic psychology major dropout am I? The pathetic dropout kind I suppose.
Anyway, the movie made me happy, and then sad, and then really happy, and then devastated, but ultimately sort of happy. I'm not sure. But I do know that it had a profound effect on me, not like say, Marie Antoinette. Good God. I wanted to cut my own goddamn head off ten minutes into the ten hour movie. And I am (was) a Sofia Coppola advocate. Thanks a lot for sucking major balls, Sofia.
I took my new car out driving around in squares in what my dad refers to as "unnecessary driving." I figure a Toyota can handle some unnecessary driving, whereas my Pontiac couldn't. So I drove past the arena, through a field of indiscernible hooved animals, and on into a previously undiscovered industrial part of town where Terminator looks to have been filmed at.
I ended up at Kohls, which is less soul-crushing than I remembered it, where I bought stripey this, and stripey that, and dangly earring this, and pink neon that and so on and so forth, until I could not even fit the enormity of all the crap I bought in my car, which is slightly larger than a potato.
My neighbor, although now civil to me, is still parking in an extremely mentally impaired manner. It's even more awkward now when she waves at me and smiles. "HI!" I wave back, inwardly cursing her Hyundai (which is actually a Chrysler Sebring upon closer inspection. Same difference) rammed up against my car, which fortunately, is potato portioned and far easier to maneuver around her assmobile (which is leaking a multitude of shit already, by the way).
That concludes my entirely pointless entry about my enormously pointless weekend.
Anyway, the movie made me happy, and then sad, and then really happy, and then devastated, but ultimately sort of happy. I'm not sure. But I do know that it had a profound effect on me, not like say, Marie Antoinette. Good God. I wanted to cut my own goddamn head off ten minutes into the ten hour movie. And I am (was) a Sofia Coppola advocate. Thanks a lot for sucking major balls, Sofia.
I took my new car out driving around in squares in what my dad refers to as "unnecessary driving." I figure a Toyota can handle some unnecessary driving, whereas my Pontiac couldn't. So I drove past the arena, through a field of indiscernible hooved animals, and on into a previously undiscovered industrial part of town where Terminator looks to have been filmed at.
I ended up at Kohls, which is less soul-crushing than I remembered it, where I bought stripey this, and stripey that, and dangly earring this, and pink neon that and so on and so forth, until I could not even fit the enormity of all the crap I bought in my car, which is slightly larger than a potato.
My neighbor, although now civil to me, is still parking in an extremely mentally impaired manner. It's even more awkward now when she waves at me and smiles. "HI!" I wave back, inwardly cursing her Hyundai (which is actually a Chrysler Sebring upon closer inspection. Same difference) rammed up against my car, which fortunately, is potato portioned and far easier to maneuver around her assmobile (which is leaking a multitude of shit already, by the way).
That concludes my entirely pointless entry about my enormously pointless weekend.
