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I wrote about four hundred something words for The Movie Review™. That's progress right? Granted, I don't know if I'm gonna use any of it and that was yesterday and I haven't written anything today but... I mean, I'm just writing this to warm-up my fingers. Yeah, that's it. That's the ticket.
Damnit damnit damnit there was a fucking fiiiiiiine one at Anna Miller's last night.
Continuing...
I think I finally decided that I'm gonna bite the bullet and get a crappy McJob. It's kinda a waste of time and money to take six credits just to keep the campus job. The only thing that bothers me is the fact that I'm older than dirt, with a fucking degree (although it's useless), and I'm getting a McJob. Although Ball And Chain nicely pointed out that, "Look at it this way. You're 200 years old and you're still working at (shitty, loser, useless Campus Job)."
I don't know. Like Magnum P.I., I always listen to That Voice. And something's telling me to hold back. But then, I don't know. The reception's bad on That Voice lately and part of me just wants to get out. Plus I'm the kinda person that likes the idea of staying at a job for a really long time. I hate constantly moving and shuffling your life around. Too much hopping around isn't good for acclimation.
What the living fuck am I talking about? There's probably a really good feng-shui joke here somewhere.
But in the meantime, I figured out what I really what to do for a living. I'm gonna become a professional Mario Golf player. I'm sure the hours are great.
IG-88's been doing stock for eight or nine years now. Granted he's still going for his B.A. and they're only paying him $_ an hour, but still... At least he seems happy right?
Image. It's all about image, man. You could be making $5.25 an hour but if you're wearing a coat and tie, you have a Job. But if you're making $15, hell, if you're on salary, but you're wearing whatever the fuck you want, that's a McJob.
I think there's a shabby nobility in being the most educated goof-off on the island.
Sigh.
Just nod your heads.
McJob: A low-pay, low-prestige, low-dignity, low-benefit, no-future job in the service sector. Frequently considered a satisfying career choice by people who have never held one.
-- Douglas Coupland
Speaking of Sunday paper, keep checking Spunker. Oh man, there's a Nina one coming up that... Kitsune looked over it and didn't know whether to laugh or masturbate. Cool huh?
Anyway... the roast is ready and I really wanna slap Dave Vinton in the head a couple times.
9:51 pm
I'm supposed to be finishing The Movie Review™. Hours have gone by. Instead, me and mom went to pick up chocalate haupia pie. I went to the bookstore and scored once again. I bought the Blair Witch book but I'm scared to open it. (Oh shit, that reminds me. I read something about the ending and I want to discuss it, but I'll wait till later.) Watched an X-Files rerun.
Speaking of X Files, Generic Cigarettes finally broke up with her boyfriend. I feel for them and all, but thank God. I. Am. So. Fucking. Glad. To. See. Him. Go.
I really don't mean to be a mean, snobby asshole, but I am, so here I go. It was fucking EMBARASSING to have him around us. It was getting to the point where we wanted to invite her to do something, but we didn't want to invite her cause she would bring him, and that's just bad for feng-shui. You know? I mean, he was just a fucking idiot; thinks he's funny, insults and makes cracks at people he hardly knows, and basically fucking invites people to kick his ass when he LOOKS like he weighs about 50 pounds. Not to mention there was the age thing. I mean, age really doesn't matter but when you act like you're 11, that's a problem. When Duck Girl's brother first met him, and this was before the Smash Mouth song, when Generic Cigarettes' bf wasn't looking, he made the shape of an "L" on his forehead. See, we're not in the minority. That was EVERYONE'S first reaction. Sigh. Whatever. I wish him well and hope he grows a personality.
Oh shit, speaking of irritants, they're playing that Gap vest commercial with all those model kids singing that "Dress You Up" song by Madonna. Yiick. That commercial gives me the shivers. In fact, all "vest" commercials piss me off. I hate the Old Navy vest commercial even more.
And I hate that song "Dollars dollarz" or however you spell it. Or, for that matter, however many times "dollars" is supposed to be mentioned.
And I really hate that "Genie In A Bottle" song.
I'm too filled with hate. I need more "like" in my life.
I like that David Duchovny song they play in the theaters on Movietunes. It's kinda cute and at the end, she screams "I'm gonna kill Scully!" Crabby Boba says it's on the radio but...
Oh, Crabby Boba wanted to ask all of us at Anna Miller's which five stars we would sleep with. (But of course, she said she decided not to because at first she couldn't figure out the right moment to bring it up, and then after we were pau eating, she said we looked full and tired. I swear, these private school kids... They got issues, man. And zero comic rhythm.)
Anyway, that opened up a whole can of worms with Ball And Chain. Cause she's asking me what stars I'd sleep with and I kept trying to explain that I don't think that way. I mean, maybe if I got to know Jennifer Lopez a little better, then I could decide whether I would want to fuck her or not, but I mean, honestly, I don't get any fuck urges from a music video. I mean, it's great to look at and all, but to seriously consider the fuckability rate, I'd have to know the person in real life. And of course, that would open up yet another can of worms with Ball And Chain, and... Fark. I just hate private school people questions.
Guys, if this question ever comes up, just say Bea Arthur.
Okay, now I'm gonna work on the Movie Review™. I swear. Promise. Inserting the floppy right now! After I finish reading Snow Falling From The Cedars, which gets my vote for the most boring book I've ever read. In recent memory. I think I've been reading this stupid book for over three months now, but you know, I'm the type that can't not finish reading a book.
Sad my life.
Okay, now I'll start working. Really. I mean, after I finish the book. I only got fifty more pages to go.
Monday, August 16, 1999, 4:29 am
Okay, slightly panicking. Took a nap, went to gym, read more Snow Falling From The Cedars, played Street Fighter 3 Alpha (Bison's kinda hard yeah?), and didn't write a goddamn single fucking word on the Movie Review™. Damnit, and I wanna wake up early and go job-applying tomorrow. I'm such an irresponsible slacking piece of shit. But at least I went to the gym. Right? *sigh* Just nod your bananas.
Bowfinger really farking disappointed me. It wasn't as funny as I thought it would be. It's kinda like I've seen and heard all these Hollywood jokes before. But everyone around me seemed to really enjoy it. Isn't that always the case? Sad my life.
Run Lola Run was a real cute movie. If you feel like being artsy fartsy and sub-titled, that's your movie. There was just something about Lola. I wonder how old she is. Plus, I love how they were just screaming "shit" in German throughout the whole damn thing. I'm not even gonna begin trying to spell that. It's fun to say though.
Okay, one last Blair Witch thing. Seriously, I am getting a little sick of talking about it but this one's got me shaking my head. Once again, I'm gonna blow the ending so if you didn't see it, please feel free to come back after you've done so. Hopefully this will be the last time I bring this stupid movie up ever again. *collective sigh of relief*
(Did you know I'm misusing the word "hopefully?" Yuppers. One of the last things I learned in college. And I give it to you, my dear readers, all for free.)
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Okay, according to Time, they said the villain is Josh, the guy that suddenly disappears. Umm, okay... I mean, that kinda makes sense. But explain the sounds of the children outside the tent.
Buy anyway, okay, let's go with the Josh Theory. Personally, I think it really bites banana dick cause it basically kills the entire supernatural element that made the movie spooky in the first place. Ewww, the evil is within _us_. Paranoia breeds homocidal insanity.
That's such a frickin cop-out! If you're gonna make a movie titled The Blair Witch Project there better be a fucking witch in it, don't you fucking think?!
Wait a minute. I don't know why the living fuck I'm defending and campaigning for the scarier premise. That's bad for feng shui. Nevermind. Yeah, it was Josh. Yeah... That's the ticket. Run Lola Run cute. Bowfinger not that funny.
