Velouria (velouria) wrote,

Tales from the crypt.

I can't sleep. I haven't really tried, but I just assume. I just watched One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. This is the first time I've seen it. What kind of pathetic psychology major dropout am I? The pathetic dropout kind I suppose.

Anyway, the movie made me happy, and then sad, and then really happy, and then devastated, but ultimately sort of happy. I'm not sure. But I do know that it had a profound effect on me, not like say, Marie Antoinette. Good God. I wanted to cut my own goddamn head off ten minutes into the ten hour movie. And I am (was) a Sofia Coppola advocate. Thanks a lot for sucking major balls, Sofia.

I took my new car out driving around in squares in what my dad refers to as "unnecessary driving." I figure a Toyota can handle some unnecessary driving, whereas my Pontiac couldn't. So I drove past the arena, through a field of indiscernible hooved animals, and on into a previously undiscovered industrial part of town where Terminator looks to have been filmed at.

I ended up at Kohls, which is less soul-crushing than I remembered it, where I bought stripey this, and stripey that, and dangly earring this, and pink neon that and so on and so forth, until I could not even fit the enormity of all the crap I bought in my car, which is slightly larger than a potato.

My neighbor, although now civil to me, is still parking in an extremely mentally impaired manner. It's even more awkward now when she waves at me and smiles. "HI!" I wave back, inwardly cursing her Hyundai (which is actually a Chrysler Sebring upon closer inspection. Same difference) rammed up against my car, which fortunately, is potato portioned and far easier to maneuver around her assmobile (which is leaking a multitude of shit already, by the way).

That concludes my entirely pointless entry about my enormously pointless weekend.
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