It's alright, Andy! It's just bolognese!

Well I just sat Hot Fuzz with Trevor and Geoff. It was good seeing them finally and I had a good time despite being almost completely fucking wiped and spilling soda all over my shorts. Thanks, Harveys, or whatever the fuck that was.

The movie was awesome too. The first half is more or less a dry British comedy with cops and the second half is pretty much a spoof of every action movie ever.

I swear these guys could make the worst movie ever something completely awesome. I love them.

In other news I've spent a great deal of the past two days cleaning up this mess of a room. Like really cleaning. I've been throwing out so much crap, and it feels great to not be surrounded with so much useless shit.

I'm not exactly a pack rat, but I do tend to hang onto shit for longer than I really need to, so it tends to build up I guess.

One more day, or at least another hour or two and all this other clutter shall be organized as well.

Goodnight moon.

what the hell?

Well I've had a few whacky dreams as of late. Perhaps not as odd or symbolic as our friend Geoff, but interesting enough.

The one I had a couple days ago had me and my brother standing in our garage. I don't know what we were doing, but we watched a van come speeding down the road. It slammed on the brakes and came down the driveway.
It stopped and whoever was driving aligned it so that the passenger side was facing us. I just sort of stood there wondering "what the hell"
Then all the windows rolled down at once and before me and my brother were four or five of the scariest looking motherfuckers ever.

One of them began shouting something, but it wasn't English so I kind of shrugged my shoulders. He began waving his arms at me and shouting even louder. I just stood there.
Another person in the front seat leaned down and grabbed something. It took him a while to find it but eventually I realized it was a gun. He points it at us while trying to open the door with his other hand, the others are now doing the same.

At this point someone, I think my brother yells "fuck! Islamic fundamentalists!" (which is now quite humorous to me, but at the time I was scared shitless)
so without thinking I ran to the door, opened it and looked back to see them shooting my brother. I didn't stop to do anything. I knew he was dead.

I ran into the house to find my other (older) brother and told him we had to get out of here. We ran to my parents room which is at the back of the house. I punched the screen out of the window and we jumped out and began running. I heard my brother yell something about "the weapons" and all of a sudden we were in some sort of pit in the ground, looking up I could see it was covered loosely with boards and leaves to disguise it. I now had a weapon in my hand. A Mauser c96 which I can only assume happened to find its way into my dream because I had been reading about them a few days before. My brother had some kind of rifle.

We could hear the other guys approaching. they were shouting all sorts of things. Before I knew it they were on top of us. I could clearly make out at least two bodies standing on the loose boards above us so we started shooting. I don't dream of actual violence very much, but my god, these dudes exploded like water balloons filled with strawberry jam. It was bizarre.

And then, of course, I woke up.

The other dream I had last night is nowhere as bizarre or cool. It's actually stupid. Me and Sarah Polley were on a plane going somewhere. It felt like a vacation, but I had the distinct feeling that we had a reason and were in quite a rush. Literally, all the dream consisted of was me sitting next to her in a seat in a dimly lit airplane cabin. We looked at each other quite often but said nothing. They were kind of like knowing glances and nothing more.

Why Sarah Polley?

Exactly.

so I guess the lessons here are they we obviously have a weapons cache buried somewhere in our backyard and that Sarah Polley is in love with me.



woo.

You know what sucks?

not being able to sleep in anymore. When I was still in school, the weekends meant that I'd be sleeping in until 1 or 2 or whatever.

Now, though, no matter how tired I am when I fall alseep or what time it is, I'm up by 10 at the very latest. It's usually more like 7 or 8. It sucks. This is of course during my days off.

In music news I suggest all you instrumental rock guys check out Hammock. I got some of their stuff a few weeks ago and have been meaning to mention them. Absolutely beautiful sound. I added them to my myspace page for the benefit of others (since I can't stream worth shit on dialup)

I don't have much else to say.

Oh, I guess I could mention I had a ultrasound done on my heart on Tuesday. It was a real blast. I'll find out what's up in a few days I think.

what's with this fucking weather anyway. Rain, snow, sun cold, warm, hot. Fucking pick one. Goddamn I want to go fishing.

Never gonna go out again.

It's days like these I'm reminded of why I don't like leaving my house.

I was out and about, for maybe an hour at the most, and I wish I'd never even bothered.

First, what's with wal mart being absolutely packed to the fucking gills no matter the day or time? I don't get it. Do people wake up and rush to go to Wal Mart? do they enjoy it?

I wish the place would go out of business. Luckily I was in and out just to get a game, but still. Jesus Christ. It's a zoo.

Then I went to KFC to get some food for my Dad and I. I'm not kidding when I say there was probably 17 OLD mother fuckers in there. Three who were ahead of me in line asking the fucking lady behind the counter to repeat EVERY SINGLE FUCKING THING SHE SAID. TWICE.

Jesus Christ. It's not fucking gourmet cooking. It's greasy, disgusting chicken. Get some and shut up you old fucks. Or just stay at home where you belong.

to top it all off the idiots decide to put my two sandwiches, french fries and poutine in the smallest bag possible. Fries were fucking dropping out of the mother fucker, and the pop was so fucking overfilled I got it all over my hand the second I picked it up.

Fuck you colonel sanders. Fuck you.

Oh and the ride home was a joy.

Let me just say this.

I have, in all my years, had enough sour experiences to label the following as a scientific fact:

Any person who has or ever had a BMW cannot drive worth shit.

I don't know what it is. Is it because they own a $60,000 overpriced car that they think they own the road? really, I'd like to know. Are they just stupid? do these cars appeal to morons? no, really, somebody tell me.

And no, it really can't be bad luck on my part. I can't even believe that it's a coincidence any more. It is very seriously a fact of life.

I, quite honestly shudder every time I see one of those cars behind me or in front of me because, as I've said, it's pretty much guaranteed they will do something idiotic or, failing that, something incredibly annoying.

So to the stupid cunt today who decided to weave in and out of three lanes of traffic multiple times at a ridiculous pace, go fuck yourself.

Yeah, you're such a race car driver. You're in such a fucking hurry and so fast that you still hit the red light at the same time as everyone else. Moron. Maybe Daddy should have spent some more of his money on you and got you something even faster. Then at least the day you smash it you might also die.

end rant.

So how is everyone?

So it goes.

Kurt Vonnegut died on Wednesday and I've been meaning to say something along the lines of this:

Go to your local library/book store/pawn shop and find a copy of Slaughterhouse-five. Read it and love it because it is one of the best things ever written.

When you're done, follow up with Cat's Cradle and Breakfast of champions.

How fucking depressing. He was, I think, quite easily my favourite author. To be able to mix comedy, sci-fi, drama all the while keeping a depressing tone is incredible.

Reading about his experiences, being held in a POW camp during the fire bombing of Dresden and how he eventually turned that into a book featuring, of all things, Time travelling aliens boggles my mind.

I don't read THAT much, but I've not come across anybody who does it better in all my years.

Shit.

this will be boring.

Well it's past my bedtime and I can hardly keep my eyes open, but somehow I'm in the mood for a rant/nerd talk that none of you will find interesting.

I've been reading and seeing these news stories about how poorly Grindhouse did at the box office. How in the hell did some god awful crap like "are we done yet?" make more money than this masterpiece?

There are plenty of theories ranging from the fact that it was just bad timing (easter weekend) to...maybe three+ hours is just too long for most people and perhaps the most logical, that this type of genre isn't for everybody, along with the fact that it's rated R/18A.

Still, a movie is a movie. I think it helps and adds to the experience if you've see some of the films Planet Terror and Death Proof are referencing. It's not that there is a whole lot to "get" it's just that there's so much more to these movies than people think. It's called Grindhouse for a reason. These films are more or less larger budget remakes of all the horror/exploitation films from the 70's.

Also all the hate for Death Proof is pissing me off. Yes, I would agree that Quentin Tarantino needs to put more faith in editors, because some of the dialogue between the women is a little too long winded and drawn out. But it is intentional. It is supposed to be mellow and normal before the movie slams into high gear, and this is a Tarantino movie, the guy gets off on writing lines and lines of dialogue.

So yes, I could have done without most of the girly talk between all the women. But But holy fucking Hell that movie has the best car action scenes in ages, and Kurt Russell is and always will be the fuckin' man.

I dunno. Given the choice between this or a movie starring Ice Cube seems like an easy choice to me. What the hell is wrong with people?

Well I'm going to bed.

real quick now.

Grindhouse is the best movie ever made.

(well, two movies, I guess)

Death proof probably has the best car chase ever filmed.

I'd go on about it more like a dork if I wasn't so tired. I guess that's what happens when I see movies on/after work nights. Especially three hour movies. Driving to find James in his little shithole appartment didn't help matters, either. Worth it though.

Goodnight, moon.

readyletsgo

Man, lately the most random memories have been popping into my head and making me laugh at the strangest times.

Trevor, do you remember when you, James and I broke the swings during recess? haha. We totally could have killed someone.

Or Ryan rolling his car. That still makes me laugh. Is it strange that even though I could have died it still ranks as one of the best days of my life? it was all just so...weird.

Aside from the few odd hours of WoW every now and then I really haven't been playing many games lately, but I picked up S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Shadow of Chernobyl a week or so ago and I'm having a good time with it.

It's got a great premise where you play as a "stalker" which is basically a scavenger who roams Chernobyl after the nuclear explosion looking for artifacts and so on. You actually have to eat and keep an eye on your radiation levels in order to stay alive which is a pretty cool feature. It's like an RPG/first person shooter/survival horror. reminds me a lot of fallout, too (which is probably the best PC game ever created)

oh and thanks to the radiation there are some pretty creepy mutants and other beasts. When the day turns to night the game seriously gets weird.




It took nearly six years to come out, and I'm surprised it did. Check it out guys.

Oh, who am I kidding. Nobody who reads this even cares. Except maybe Geoff.

Sweet, sweet Geoff.