i made a good pot roast and my life is a mess

I just left the house for the first time all day, and that was just to take out the trash. I kept myself busy with movies and cooking; I was unable to throw more stuff out from my room because our dumpster's full, and I'm trying to be sneaky. The sanitation workers won't just take whatever you leave out there, unless it all fits in the bin. When moving out of other apartments, I would keep a close eye on when the dumpster was empty if I had to get rid of a couch. When you don't have a car or money to take something to the dump, you have to be crafty.

I've been doing my best not to worry about all the shit I'm going to have to do over the next 15 days--moving, putting out a new magazine, working on the ones I'm already working on, trying to figure out how I'm going to pay my bills. I probably shouldn't have typed that out. It's not bad during the day, but when it comes time to wind down and get ready for bed, it all comes rushing at me at once, and I feel like I'm paralyzed. My eyes go wide, and all I can do is stare off.

That's why I like watching movies, especially ones I don't have to think about. I can stare off at them and become distracted. I like the deep, think-y kind of movies, too, but that's only for when I'm relaxed and looking for something to stress me out. Clearly, I can't function any other way.


"Bring it, bitches."

Blade Trinity was one such no-brainer that got me this far, at least, without driving myself crazy. It seemed that the only things needed to be a member of the cast was to be amazingly ripped and the ability to deliver schmaltzy dialog with a straight face. I wasn't really crazy about the first two Blade movies, mostly because I can't stand Wesley Snipes. I'm not really sure why he bothers me so much, but he does. Screw you, Snipes. He works as Blade, though, and as dumb as Trinity was, it was still pretty entertaining, mostly because of the abundant explosions slick vampire tomfoolery and Parker Posey being as sexy, funny and show-stealing as she always is.

As I slurped down my delicious pork roast--that I slaved over, by the way--macaroni & cheese, cream corn, carrots and garlic bread (I think it was the biggest meal I'd ever made), I couldn't help but feel like a saggy bag of lard compared to the parade of hard bodied ass-kickers and their penchant for parading around either topless or in skin tight clothing. Even the naughty daughter from 7th Heaven looked like she could bench press me. Not that I'd mind if she did. I don't have a lot of hang ups when it comes to that sort of thing. I don't mind if the woman wears the pants as long as she doesn't expect me to wear a skirt. I'd have to shave my legs and, I must say, I'd miss my leg hair terribly. Jessica Biel could rescue my flabby ass from a burning building and I'd get all gooey-eyed and say, "my hero"and then I'd make her a pot roast. I'm sure my testicles will remain intact.