March 25, 2002
Magical Sheep Festivals
So I am a Diary Goddess. Don't believe me? Well, suck it.
I've so been wanting a reason to say that.
The family and I watched Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back last night. I realize now why it got the criticism it did, being a total departure from Kevin Smith's usually clever (and often bitter) sense of humour. It was funny, but in a totally different, dick joke kind of way. And really, what can you expect when the whole thing is about Jay and Silent Bob as opposed to simply giving them a cameo? And when you take into consideration the fact that Silent Bob doesn't talk, it's just Jay saying 'fuck' every other word and groping himself and/or others.
The truly scary thing is how hysterical my Dad thinks Jay is. He was laughing so hard he was crying, and he did the same thing when we all watched Dogma. I have a truly disturbing family.
Must be what's wrong with me.
I've come to the conclusion that I only run into people I know when I look like total shit. We have no water for some strange, undisclosed reason, so this afternoon's venture to Kroger's had me in my under-the-bridge hat with ratty curls sticking out underneath. Not to mention my pale, in-need-of-a-scrub face. I'm wearing my jeans that don't really fit and my twenty-five cent, day-glow-orange thrift jacket. And of course, of course, I run into my old buddy Eric in the store. Never when I comb my hair and put it up cute and wear a skirt and tights. Never.
I am a beast from hell.
Started to watch the Oscars last night and abandoned it after about a half hour. And my premonitions as to who would take home the big awards came true when I went online today and AOL blared the results at me. I would curse A Beautiful Mind for winning Best Picture and Best Director, but I haven't seen it yet and I'm sure that it's wonderful, blah blah blah bullshit. We all know what I wanted to win.
And Ian McKlellan didn't get best Supporting Actor! I think I'm more peeved about that than I am about the Best Picture award. He was totally awesome as Gandalf. He was fucking Gandalf.
Alas, what is done is done.
I feel rather caustic today.
I had the craziest dream the other day. I was running through this swamp with a bunch of other people I knew, and I knew we were running for our lives. But from what I do not remember. And we reached these weird little tree houses, but we had to climb stairs to get up into them. It was the stairs that were strange. They were like Escher stairs, because we were climbing in a spiral but not falling or something... I don't know how to explain it. It was a bizarre dream, and for some reason it just won't leave my mind. I think I may use a few bits of it for the next story I am planning on writing. You'll never guess what I have decided to tackle. Wendy. From Peter Pan. Only I've decided that I'm totally going to destroy everything innocent that Peter Pan once was. Wendy is going to have a foul mouth and refuse to cook for the Lost Boys, and they, in turn, do nothing but drink and gamble.
It's going to be fun.
I've finally named the tome that I am slaving over at present, and have dubbed it thus: In Another's Footsteps. I am just madly in love with this story. Frankly, if it were male, I would sleep with it.
It would have to take me out to dinner first, though.
That has always bugged me. My mom used to get angry when Ryan and I would just go over his house and watch movies, she'd say that I let him kiss all over me for nothing. What am I, a fucking hooker?
Anyway, back to my story. I posted the first chapter on this amateur writing gallery I belong to, and if you're interested in reading it go here. Ignore the other stuff that is there, I never finished that story and am soon going to take it down.
Not that I anticipate any of you shall go.
Damn. This was a super long entry.
astera at 4:07 p.m.