Insane Insomnia

Wondering why I'm not asleep? I'll tell you, as you think of how Froot Loops transcended just being orange, lemon, and cherry when you were little. I'm bored, basically... too bored to sleep. Well, maybe not, but I'm afraid my dreams will be boring, so why waste the time counting sheep that would taste better on a kabob instead of hopping some stupid fence that popular culture put into my head?

Then again, I could just play sudoku and waste even more time on worthless crosswords, racking my brain for a three-letter synonym for the word "fuck," all the while wishing I had my old TV back so I could fry my brain watching less-than-B movies on late night HBO and ShowTime. After all, I do waste a lot of money on premium movie channels that I rarely ever watch because my current television is too small and my home theater is in boxes somewhere in the Pacific Time Zone.

Ah, the Pacific Time Zone. The best time zone in the world, even if all of the "live" shows are prerecorded because people on the East Coast can't stay up late enough to watch a proper live telecast. Then again, if television really were based in NYC like New Yorkers like to claim, this wouldn't be an issue, but it isn't... it's based in Los Angeles. So lick me, you East Coasters... lick me like the owl trying to get to the center of the tootsie pop. Just don't bite on the last one. I have a sneaking suspicion that would hurt.

Pain... yet another reason I don't sleep at night. Why? Well, because my fucking foot and ankle hurt all the fucking time. But, since you're busy giving yourself a pedicure with those flesh-eating Japanese fish, you probably don't want to think about feet too much.

Anyway, I'm off to dream of sex and violence.

Because abstinence and peace are just too fucking boring.

Choosing Something to Write

I've been wasting a lot of time in front of the computer lately. See, I walk into this little so-called office of mine, turn this 7-year-old laptop on (which takes 6 to 10 minutes to fully boot Windows XP - it was designed for Windows Me), sit down in my chair, and open up Final Draft. And then... fucking nothing.

Or rather, then... play a sudoku game or two, some online spades, work on some World War II research (long story), check my bank balances, pay some bills, and generally avoid the one thing I should be doing: writing a fucking script.

In my twisted little mind, I need three complete, kick-ass, ready-to-go scripts in order to secure an agent who's worth a little more than a shit. Although I have quite a few finished (drafts, anyway), I only have two complete, kick-ass, ALMOST ready-to-go scripts. I need a third, and therein lies the fucking problem.

I don't know what to write? My first script is a military/sci-fi/thriller. Okay, fine. My second script is a spy-thriller. Okay, fine. And most of my current options for number three are all thrillers? Not fine. And even if it were, how do I differentiate it enough to justify it's worth in fucking writing?

There's a private-dick thriller. Maybe. There's a spy/military/sci-fi/thriller. Hmm... maybe not. There's a horror-thriller. Possibly. There's a coming-of-age (sort of) drama... only I suck at writing those. There's a straight-up military thriller. Ugh. Noticing a fucking pattern?

So, people (the few of you who might read this), what do I write? Give me a fucking idea.

And vote for Clint-fucking-Eastwood.

Nothing But Pointless Musings

Voicemail menus are slow and complicated on purpose, so phone companies can squeeze every possible extra second out of your phone plan.

Bono and U2 definitely outshined Billie Joe and Green Day on Monday Night Football, despite what all those emo/screamo/wannabe-punk kids will tell you. But it was still cool to see them on stage together.

Why does Hollywood remake good movies? Shouldn't they remake the bad ones?

That brunette I'm hard-up for officially hates me. If anyone wants to ask a lonely, pathetic, self-righteous blogger out on a date, message me for my phone number. (seriously)

The San Diego Padres are now two games ahead of the Los Angeles Dodgers. Kick ass.

I'm almost in agreement with Bob Dylan: modern music tends to suck. I don't really think it's the talent... it's more to do with all the emo/screamo/wannabe-punk bands that are full of "musicians" who can't read music.

MySpace is taking over the world. There's apparently a MySpace television show now. That's ridiculously frightening.

High school kids with MySpace quotes like "live every day like its your last" really annoy me. As do people with quotes from Will Farrell movies... especially Anchorman. People, you are not kind of a big deal. In fact, you're all idiots.

Anybody who feels like going to Croatia for a couple of weeks during summer of 2007, let me know. I'm planning a trip and, unlike many of my recent plans, I'd like to see this one NOT fall through.

American Dad is better than The Family Guy.

Goodyear blimps flying over domed stadiums during football games seems kind of pointless to me.

Soldiers should never feel guilty for being alive when someone they know is killed, but we do anyway.

If the world went through a Sudoku craze instead of a Karaoke craze, the world would be less annoying. Damn the Japanese. Damn them.

I wish I could cook. I wish I could dance. So much so, I will one day attend culinary school and enroll at a dance studio. Really.

Mitch Hedberg was right... life would be easier if we all just had one long curvy tooth.

My nephew won't date a cheerleader because he thinks they're "peppy" all of the time. Personally, I think my nephew is gay, but oh, well.

I read about two crimes this past week that officially make me sorry to be a human being. I won't go into detail here, but one involved a pregnant woman, her three kids, and a babysitter, and the other involved a man getting angry at his wife and daughter while driving.

Writing would be easier for me if I were better at it.

So would brain surgery.

I'm really pissed that not one person that counted answered the questions from my last blog.

Calgon, take me away. If you know what that means, you are officially too old.

This was very pointless... and not very musing.