I love my new profile picture. The kapow of Cash as portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix.
I'm really excited for that movie. Mostly because I'm a Cash nut.
My computer's getting really fucky with me recently. Backspace doesn't work quite right, nor does the colon button.
_+^%
See? That's for pushing Shift and semicolon.
%
I don't get it.
I think this thing needs a new keyboard before the letters change and I'm stuck fucking learning a new language to type with.
So I ordered the Criterion Collection version of Brazil (the picture that's been in my "Current Crush" since the beginning of my damn time here. Yes, I've never owned the movie before, but I have seen it, and I loved it. I finally bit the bullet and got the 3-disc "I'm A Psychotic Obsessive On This Thing" edition (which tends to be the secret-knock name of most early Criterion DVDs -- too bad they lost rights to King Kong before squeezing that from Laserdisc to DVD). It'll be here Wednesday.
Last night, I head to the theater. I get informed that I "missed my contact". A confusing statement to say the least, I reply with a puzzled look.
I have a rough description of the person presented to me.
It was Jutka, apparently inviting me to her birthday party that night. Which, you probably don't know, never really happens with me. But she actually went out of her way to invite me.
So about 11ish, I show up at the motel, and there's only her (in the shower when I arrive) and Kate, sitting in the main room of the cottage.
She got a new camera, so she had taken a lot of pictures. I've never seen this girl so giddy in her life.
It gets to be about midnight, and we've traveled from cottage 3 (their's) to 1 (Ioana's now-ex boyfriend's) and back, bringing some computer speakers in tow.
Ioana and her current squeeze, a rather boring piece of flesh named Josh, arrive. It's not a jealous thing, honestly; this boy is pretty damn boring. A wannabe rock star who sounded like every half-talented "artist" in high school who simply was indulged by his peers back then. One of those personality-less people you'd meet at a kegger. He's not part of the frat, but he's got some buddies that are at the core of it. You get the idea.
We spend about an hour sipping vodka + oj, the girls dance, I beg them not to make me, and after about another half an hour of it, I decide it's time to bolt. I make up some excuse about helping my friend produce some tracks (which is only a lie for the time I used it; Ian does want me there as he finishes up some of the songs he's been working on, helping chisel away a good sound).
Before I go, I rummage through my CD collection, pull out Robbie Williams' "The Ego Has Landed", and give it to Ioana, who had given chase to me in order to express her feelings of bitter sadness over us never being able to talk -- but not before giving a telling bit of body language when after a hug, my hand lingered on her back and she swatted it off like I was poison -- with explicit instructions not to give it to Jutka until I was gone.
Why?
Jutka would've chased me down and forced me to take it back, of course.
Now I've got to sneak the case to her.
Which is infinitely more difficult.
This feels like a longer entry than it actually is.
Corpse Bride is coming up! But not before some crap movies rumble through September.
Um. Yeah.
And so it's another day done.
*clap*
I'm really excited for that movie. Mostly because I'm a Cash nut.
My computer's getting really fucky with me recently. Backspace doesn't work quite right, nor does the colon button.
_+^%
See? That's for pushing Shift and semicolon.
%
I don't get it.
I think this thing needs a new keyboard before the letters change and I'm stuck fucking learning a new language to type with.
So I ordered the Criterion Collection version of Brazil (the picture that's been in my "Current Crush" since the beginning of my damn time here. Yes, I've never owned the movie before, but I have seen it, and I loved it. I finally bit the bullet and got the 3-disc "I'm A Psychotic Obsessive On This Thing" edition (which tends to be the secret-knock name of most early Criterion DVDs -- too bad they lost rights to King Kong before squeezing that from Laserdisc to DVD). It'll be here Wednesday.
Last night, I head to the theater. I get informed that I "missed my contact". A confusing statement to say the least, I reply with a puzzled look.
I have a rough description of the person presented to me.
It was Jutka, apparently inviting me to her birthday party that night. Which, you probably don't know, never really happens with me. But she actually went out of her way to invite me.
So about 11ish, I show up at the motel, and there's only her (in the shower when I arrive) and Kate, sitting in the main room of the cottage.
She got a new camera, so she had taken a lot of pictures. I've never seen this girl so giddy in her life.
It gets to be about midnight, and we've traveled from cottage 3 (their's) to 1 (Ioana's now-ex boyfriend's) and back, bringing some computer speakers in tow.
Ioana and her current squeeze, a rather boring piece of flesh named Josh, arrive. It's not a jealous thing, honestly; this boy is pretty damn boring. A wannabe rock star who sounded like every half-talented "artist" in high school who simply was indulged by his peers back then. One of those personality-less people you'd meet at a kegger. He's not part of the frat, but he's got some buddies that are at the core of it. You get the idea.
We spend about an hour sipping vodka + oj, the girls dance, I beg them not to make me, and after about another half an hour of it, I decide it's time to bolt. I make up some excuse about helping my friend produce some tracks (which is only a lie for the time I used it; Ian does want me there as he finishes up some of the songs he's been working on, helping chisel away a good sound).
Before I go, I rummage through my CD collection, pull out Robbie Williams' "The Ego Has Landed", and give it to Ioana, who had given chase to me in order to express her feelings of bitter sadness over us never being able to talk -- but not before giving a telling bit of body language when after a hug, my hand lingered on her back and she swatted it off like I was poison -- with explicit instructions not to give it to Jutka until I was gone.
Why?
Jutka would've chased me down and forced me to take it back, of course.
Now I've got to sneak the case to her.
Which is infinitely more difficult.
This feels like a longer entry than it actually is.
Corpse Bride is coming up! But not before some crap movies rumble through September.
Um. Yeah.
And so it's another day done.
*clap*
gwenyfver:
and so what does one think of my breasts?