Do you think certain movies would have been as profitable if they had goofy or unintelligible titles? What if Home Alone had been called "The Great Snow-shoeing Adventure"? What if Raiders of the Lost Ark had been called "That's Some Hat!" And yes, what if Star Wars had been called "The Postman Is Grhunndhutlu"?

I'm getting old:
1. I used to love Coca-Cola; now it's like drinking battery acid.
2. Macdonalds burgers are bricks in my stomach.
3. Most contemporary popular music is crap.
4. White hair is starting to come in.

What to do?
1. stop ingesting offensive substance
2. stop ingesting offensive substance
3. stop ingesting offensive substance
4. yay! I like white hair.

Overall, not a bad deal.

Stop taunting me, you crazy bananas! Oh, you want me to go there, yes you do. Crazy bananas!! Yikes!

And that's pretty much where I'm at right now.

...and the Big Slice of Moldy Cheese bad taste award of the week goes to:
livejournal user 'five0xpres'.
Actually, the award should go to whoever is responsible for that misguided, vacuous painting.
Like my friend Dave said on his blog, good thing I have a strong stomach.

...and the comedy hero of the day award goes to...
Today I switched subways at Bloor and Yonge cause I had to go east. So I get on, the doors close, and the driver announces, "Bay station is next, Bay station." I couldn't believe it - I thought I'd made sure I was on the right train. Then the announcer comes on again: "I like doing that. Sherbourne station is next, Sherbourne."

I had a fucked up dream last night. There was this guy who wanted me, and I told him I wasn't interested. I kept running into him, and he persisted in trying to pick me up no matter how many times I rejected him. Eventually he became dangerous. He showed up at my house, and I knew I had to kill him. So I did. I didn't just kill him, though. I'll skip the details, but it was a pretty gruesome and cold-hearted scene. Right after that I had a peaceful dream about picking grapes and rasberries in my dad's garden with my niece.

I guess an analyst would have a ball with this stuff.

I remember in high school, I would fall asleep in some of my classes. It didn't really matter what class - law, math, biology. I'm not narcoleptic, and I got enough sleep, so what was that about? Is my boredom threshold really low? I felt bad back then, because it wasn't necessarily the teachers' fault (one of them was actually sorta hot), and I can't imagine anything more insulting than a student falling asleep in your class. But now it sort of makes me smile because it was as if my body was so brutally honest that it didn't even pretend to care what anyone thought. It figured I was bored and wouldn't retain any of that knowledge, so it might as well rest.

They say to be a good writer, you've got to write every day, thereby exercising your writing muscles. That's one of the things I was thinking about when I decided to start this journal. They say you should write even if absolutely nothing of interest comes to mind, so that the muscles don't stiffen from inactivity. Even if the words staring up at you from the page/screen make you embarrassed that you wrote them, you have to keep going. Even if you're repeating yourself or writing gibberish, you should continue writing down the words. Don't censor yourself - after all, it's trash; no one will ever see it. It'll never be published.
Oops.