June 17, 2003 @ 12:14 a.m.
Driven to Distraction. And also Chadstone, to the cinema

I spent a good hour or so on Saturday morning attempting to convince Stuart that he's a woman.

It's becoming glaringly obvious that I need a hobby.

You know how when porn movies have plots, it's really pathetic because it's this sad little string being used to connect the sex scenes? That's kind of how I feel about fight scenes in relation to the plot of The Matrix Reloaded. Ugh. I wanted to enjoy that movie, but it was pretty difficult to do so. It didn't help that, about 20 minutes in, I could already pick about 10 minutes of film that could have been edited out with no negative effects on the film. That's never a good thing. The whole experience just left me wishing that either Stuart or I had been brave enough to face the Friday night drive into St Kilda and gone to see Secretary instead. That'll learn me.

I am still diseased, only the sore throat and delirium have made way for a new persona I like to call Snotty McMucusface. It's too damn cold to have a social life. That's my excuse anyway.

I keep adding more stuff here and instantly deleting it. It's all either trite (moreso than usual), or falls into the category of Sharing Too Much or Sharing Too Much of Other People's Stuff. So I won't.

But I will leave you with this charming mental image: Stuart giving me a lapdance to the strains of Abba's "Waterloo". Admittedly it was while Muriel's Wedding was on the teev and in that particular scene, and he was doing it to distract me (well, that worked). However, I said I'd write it up as revenge for him quoting certain choice phrases from this journal at me whilst we were having an "intimate moment" (you know, the kind that gets ruined by someone going on about your deli-full of sweater meat). And what sort of girlfriend would I be if I didn't keep promises?

Edited to add: Thanks to Liah, I have discovered that this entry is a hell of a lot more entertaining if you pity it through The T'inator Go to!

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