Accidentally watched Blue Crush (finally) after years of thinking of watching it. Now while oogling over Kate Bosworth is a totally tantalizing prospect, I can't help but dreaming about her nice, toned stomach. I know this is an issue as the last time I was obsessed (still am) with Jennifer Aniston's hair color it turned out to be some obsessive dirty-blonde syndrome. And then some. While the usual after-movie effects are faintly there, the reality is that I can't surf nor are there any good waves to surf on in this country-ish thingy. So I've gone all semi-funny funky. This is probably my last night 3 hour sleep only talking, but the point in fact is that oy oy oy.
And as some sort of update, I can't stop thinking of the corpse bride's breasts. Bluey. Really cleavagey.
Pointless perhaps.
I'm on drawing the line. Straight across. This is it. Vantage point: zero.
"Deep inside your soul is a hole you don't want to see"
When all in the world starts to not make any sense is when you make sense of it all. Geez. Was it always this simple? Why has the shrouded shroud over your eyes shrouded you? Question perhaps best answered simply: a shroud is a shroud. It is what it is. You can't change it. What you can do is not shroud your eyes with the shroud. Most people try to work out a problem by not understanding the weight of it.
On other news, I think I might need some sleep soon. But then there's lovely Eureka Seven to be had. Fucking hallucinogens.
And now for the most important line of the post:
Your boring life is just an absence of alcohol.
So there.
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