Don't Texas Chainsaw Massacre My Heart

While watching G's cats I've been having my own personal "Butt Numb-A-Thon," this weekend, and right now my ass could take a bullet and I wouldn't feel it.

Highlights from this weekend include "Millineum Actress," (snore, pretty magical and all that, but really just a dull love story), "The Bunker," (mediocre psychological horror film), "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" (The new version with Jessica Biel, meow), and "Ginger Snaps 3" (good flick, but I refuse to call it "Ginger Snaps Back," that's a shitty title). I also rented Crash Bandicoot Twinsanity, and was not dissapointed. It's no Ratchet and Clank, but it does all the right things.

Quite different from last weekend's yard sale madness.

I remember last weekend, as I crawled up onto the roof to retrieve the foam dart I had accidentally shot up there while "testing" the dart gun I was selling, looking down at our little yard sale and thinking, "Damn, we're getting rid of a lot of shit." And sell that shit we did.

Then, I thought, wouldn't it be an embarrassing way to die, falling off the roof, crumpled into a ball between the old bookcase and the pink chair we had dragged out to the driveway, Nerf dart in hand. I climbed down with haste and, thankfully, didn't fall.

I lead an exciting life.