If you want a smarter, more successful, more talented, more attractive son, then just fucking say so.

You don't have to fucking regale me with stories of your friend's son who's a chemistry Ph.D. student at Yale who was an extra in the new Indiana Jones movie and who's married to a fucking physician who's doing her residency in Texas.

I'm sorry I fucked up at college and I'm ONLY going for my Master's, I'm sorry I'm not MARRIED yet, much less to a fucking DOCTOR, and I'm sorry I was never on either the small or the big screens.

Yeah, mom, I'm a stupid, fugly retard. I'm so fucking sorry you got stuck with a fucking loser son like me.

EDIT: Whether she means to or not, sometimes the shit that comes out of her mouth has such a negative impact on me. And if she doesn't mean to slyly hint that I am altogether inadequate, then that speaks volumes as to how I think of myself sometimes. And I know that's something I need to work on, but I think my mom needs to seriously think about the impact her words might have on people, especially when those people are her children.

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There, Z.

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...I remembered why I hated reading them in the first place.

Who are these people to tell me why I should like or hate a movie? As if everyone's reaction to audiovisual stimuli will be the same...

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I don't think this is symptomatic of a physical malady.

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...why Skandar Keynes (the actor who plays Edmund in the Narnia movies) is so intriguing to me.

Basically, his appearance reminds me of Matthew... but in the movies he plays a character much more badass than Matthew ever will be, and in real life (or at least, stories about how he is in real life), he's so much cheekier than Matthew ever was.

Which leads me to the conclusion...






...that since all I think about is him and how comparatively dull, boring, and utterly SAFE he was compared to this boy actor...






...that I miss him dearly.

Still.













I guess today was one of those days.

[No comments necessary. I actually wish there were a way to turn off comments on things that actually don't matter to anyone other than myself.]

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On the contrary: it was pretty damn awesome. I guess the moral of the story is that I should stick with my convictions regarding schedules, because if people REALLY want to see each other, it will usually work out in the end.

I might post some pics later of the parade in the Mission. That is, if I remember to re-install the newest version of Photoshop.

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I don't know about you, but I could use some of that hydrogen right now.

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Basically, I disclosed to everyone what I planned to do tomorrow, and if C and company can't make it, then I can't be blamed for not trying.

I just don't understand why I have to be the one that bends to everyone else's schedules. So you know what? I said, "Fuck it! I'm going to try to see everyone on my own damn time and if it doesn't work out, then tough shit, I tried!"

I am just not thrilled at the prospect of spending 30-45 minutes on a bus where I might as well stick my thumb up my ass because there's nothing better to do. The way that I scheduled it out--I get to do everything I want to do and see everyone I want to see and I don't have to waste time on a bus which means more fun-time for me.

So yeah. Take that! I'm tired of being pushed around, schedule-wise, dammit.

And you know what else? This is not at all germane to what we're talking about, but when I go to San Diego, I am going to plan a housewarming and if no one can make it, then it's their fucking loss and it's not going to stop me from throwing myself a damn party.

SO THERE.

(Did that just make me sound a little nutso?)

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