In no way did I actually want to contribute to the Tom Cruise Crazy Fund, but today's boredom got so extreme I decided to go to the movies. I almost regret it, partially because I hate seeing Captain Crazy at all anymore and partially because it was so good it SCARED ME TO EFFING DEATH. By the thirty minute mark, I was horrified to tears. I spent the majority of the movie sitting on my feet chewing on my fingers hoping it wouldn't make me cry again. Luckily the last twenty minutes were hokey enough to let me calm down a bit, but still. TERRIFIED. CHRIST. I guess I'm just one of those people not too keen on the idea of aliens coming out of the ground and zapping us to dust and sucking our blood. Crazy logic, I know. One shining moment Daniel pointed out: seeing the spaceship suck Tom into it's asshole was quite enjoyable. I do remember chuckling a little bit before going back to gnawing on my fingers hoping the earthlings pull through. So, I hate to say it but I guess overall the movie did it's job of terrifying me to my very core, and I guess I enjoyed it. But don't tell Tom I said that. If he asks, squirt him with a water gun or something.

All I can think about lately is money. More importantly, how I do not really have much of it, and how I desperately need it. My parents made me sit down for the ONE-SQUILLIONTH time to discuss money tonight. And how I plan on paying for my expenses next year. My expenses include rent, food, bills, and shoes. Yes, I know the fact that shoes have their own category is not exactly showing my shining fiscal responsibilty. But I can't change myself. That's not the point anyways. My point is that after these "talks" I just end up lamenting how I will never be able to be a grown-up. I'm starting to think that might be OK though. I also stopped listening to my father's lecture about half-way through and started thinking about odds. And about how very possible it is my financial luck will turn around. For example, two weeks ago there was a little girl who was orphaned by AIDS and living in Ethiopia. The perfect Sally Struthers poster child. Today she is the daughter of one of the hottest ladies in the world. That's right, I am comparing myself to Angelina Jolie's newly adopted daughter. I'm hoping that the caliber at which my financial luck turns around is equivalent to little Zahara's. One can only hope, right? In the meantime, I just can't buy any more shoes. Or food. Ostensibly, anything that makes me happy. Fantastic. Bring it on.

Trying to decide whether or not I still want to do this. I am such a follower.