Sunday, January 23, 2005
Loose Ends
So I did end up going to the video store last night. The only problem was that, by the time I got there, their entire remaining selection consisted of about 10 copies of Troy. And about three million porn tapes, but I wasn't in the mood. By which I mean I don't rent, I buy. So anyway, Troy it was. I don't know if you're familiar with the film, but it's a magical three-hour journey through Brad Pitt's monotone, as told by the man who taught monkeys how to love again in Outbreak. If you're into oiled thighs (and who isn't!), you'll love it. Actually, it was much, much better than people had led me to believe, but short of Orlando Bloom actually crapping on the Iliad, it probably had to be.
Also, my legs still hurt. Along the back of my shins, so I now descend stairs in a dainty manner I imagine is very much akin to one Angela Lansbury. Maybe I will also develop her astounding possibility to solve relatively obvious mysteries.
And I've been meaning to plug my friend's new T-shirt company for a little while now, if only in desparate hopes of getting him to stop nagging everyone he knows to buy things. Honestly, how many "Kiss Me, I'm Punjabi" shirts do I need? There's a small chance they'll have designs created by me on there, as well, but only if "My Other Car is Oprah" somehow makes it through the legal department. Check it out at www.muckittees.com. You won't regret it. At least not with a paralyzing, life-shattering sort of regret.
So I did end up going to the video store last night. The only problem was that, by the time I got there, their entire remaining selection consisted of about 10 copies of Troy. And about three million porn tapes, but I wasn't in the mood. By which I mean I don't rent, I buy. So anyway, Troy it was. I don't know if you're familiar with the film, but it's a magical three-hour journey through Brad Pitt's monotone, as told by the man who taught monkeys how to love again in Outbreak. If you're into oiled thighs (and who isn't!), you'll love it. Actually, it was much, much better than people had led me to believe, but short of Orlando Bloom actually crapping on the Iliad, it probably had to be.
Also, my legs still hurt. Along the back of my shins, so I now descend stairs in a dainty manner I imagine is very much akin to one Angela Lansbury. Maybe I will also develop her astounding possibility to solve relatively obvious mysteries.
And I've been meaning to plug my friend's new T-shirt company for a little while now, if only in desparate hopes of getting him to stop nagging everyone he knows to buy things. Honestly, how many "Kiss Me, I'm Punjabi" shirts do I need? There's a small chance they'll have designs created by me on there, as well, but only if "My Other Car is Oprah" somehow makes it through the legal department. Check it out at www.muckittees.com. You won't regret it. At least not with a paralyzing, life-shattering sort of regret.
