*facepalm*

All right, I started this journal as an outlet for the excess of mayhem in my life. And, I believe I've been pretty successful in this. But, I do believe I'm going mad. It's really quite alarming. I remembered this last night...out of nowhere...oh yes, because I saw Uma Thurman on the cover of Instyle magazine. This took place at Ashley's Bookstore..Alan is the owner.

Random Fellow who is just strolling about the place casually strikes up a conversation about who is the pretties movie star with Alan.

Both agree that Demi Moore is ass ugly...which I agree with as well. Of course, she's still "prettier" in the conventional way than myself, but I like to think my spunk makes up for it, eh?

Random Fellow: Oy, but ya know who's really ugly? Uma Thurman!! Man, she curdles my blood!
***I had been standing four feet away holding a wooden incense holder...a rather hefty one with carvings on it..and I'm raising it to eye level wondering if I fling it at him just so, if it will break his temple and make the blood pour out all pretty...***
Alan: Ah, who's that? I don't know the name.
Me: Have you seen Kill Bill?
Alan: yes.
Me: She's the blonde one who kills everyone. She's not ugly.
Alan: Oh, her...you think she's ugly?!
Random Fellow: Yes, don't you? I mean, look at that nose!
Me: I think her nose is quite fine.
Alan: Was she in that movie "The Eight Stairway??" where Bruce Willis is a taxi cab driver?
Random Fellow: *goes off on a tangent about Demi Moore in the eighties...
Me: I squint at Alan, "Are you talking about the Fifth Element? That wasn't Uma Thurman. That was Milla Jovovich.
Alan: Oh! The Fifth Element! Of course. Yes, she's hot.
Random Fellow: She's beyond hot.
Me: She makes me envy Bruce Willis, thus...she is far beyond regular hawtness.
And thus, we were in accordance.

Also, I told my sister of my latest romantic endeavour...hopefully this one won't result in me almost going to an asylum for sociopathy and antisocial behavioural patterns. And you know what she did? She considered it a moment, looked at me in an odd fashion, and then laughed...very brashly. And then: Don't tell mom. You'll kill her. Just go buy some furniture from IKEA...get your own apartment...and just move out. Just don't tell mom. She was still laughing when she left the room. I knew I was odd, but...now I'm a little worried about myself. Do I really just invoke humor at my honest to god efforts to attain some level of happiness? Geez..my coworkers noted the change in mood: they like me much better this way.

Be loved because you are! Maybe nobody will bother me about some pop star tabloid trash this fine morning. Ten-chan*