Stop it
Forgetting Sarah Marshall was fucking hilarious. It was like Superbad in that it had a couple of extremely awesome scenes and one liners, but unlike Superbad in that there was actually a good movie still in between said scenes and zingers. It did tug at my nutsac a little bit over something that's starting to irk the shit out of me - Hollywood's refusal to stop contemplating its own navel. Writers are writing about nothing more than ... writing and/or filming Hollywood shit. Two trailers for the movie were for movies about movies, and a couple of the most successful shows on TV right now are shows about tv shows. It'd be super interesting, you overpaid 'creative' people, if you could actually be creative instead of just recycle your morning work routine with a couple of opportune dick jokes crammed in.
Also, due to the Galveston trip fucking up my sleep/work schedule for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, I just today got all the goddamned caffeine and energy drinks/pills/whatevers out of my system. I spent half the day staring blankly at my walls because my mind was trying to restart like a cold engine, and the other half having half-hour to full hours of lucid periods where I got work done around the house. I think I played WoW for like seven hours today because the moments where I couldn't acheive higher brain function were loooong. I also think that at some point a blue skinned German child named Pico Los Anquilles came into my room and helped me fold laundry. One of the two of those is not true and honestly at this point I'm not too sure which.
I can't hang my fucking heavybag because it came back to me missing a pin.
Wearing button up shirts almost every day and getting up habitually at 7:30am seven days a week are things currently making me not me.
Also, due to the Galveston trip fucking up my sleep/work schedule for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, I just today got all the goddamned caffeine and energy drinks/pills/whatevers out of my system. I spent half the day staring blankly at my walls because my mind was trying to restart like a cold engine, and the other half having half-hour to full hours of lucid periods where I got work done around the house. I think I played WoW for like seven hours today because the moments where I couldn't acheive higher brain function were loooong. I also think that at some point a blue skinned German child named Pico Los Anquilles came into my room and helped me fold laundry. One of the two of those is not true and honestly at this point I'm not too sure which.
I can't hang my fucking heavybag because it came back to me missing a pin.
Wearing button up shirts almost every day and getting up habitually at 7:30am seven days a week are things currently making me not me.