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Last night, I sat down on the edge of the bed to do something, keeled over, and went right to sleep. I seriously don't think normal people have this sort of narcoleptic reaction to bedding, even if it is bedding. And I've done this before, too ... just sat right down on a bed and fallen asleep as soon as I've put butt to bedspread.

I suppose there are worse bedtime habits I could have, though, like sleepwalking through small villages and sacrificing their goats to Cthulhu or voting conservative or something. My first college roommate once told me that one night I sat bolt upright in bed in my sleep and screamed at the top of my lungs. I don't even want to know what that dream entailed, but I imagine it had something to do with a garden hose shoved up my nose with the other end attached to a cement mixer full of prune juice.

(no subject)

Today's DVD acquisitions: The Devil's Backbone, Outfoxed, Noises Off ..., Save The Last Dance, and Swing Kids. Thereby fulfilling a well-rounded collection of horror, documentary, comedy, drama, and incredibly-fucking-hot-Christian-Bale. (Yes, it's redundant, but it's also too true to argue, so bite me. Or allow me to nibble on Christian. Either one works for me.)

I wanted to get The Frighteners, but alas, it was for naught. However, they have a plushie facehugger doll for $25 I want with all of my heart (but could only pine for from afar), so things even out.

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This morning, 'cause I mentioned it yesterday, I watched The Long Kiss Goodnight. It's wrong that I now want to write a set-in-the-future fic with B.B. from Kill Bill and Caitlyn Caine working together as mini-assassins. Very wrong, indeed.

...

Right? Right?!

*grumbles* I need to win the lottery so that I have time to write all the fic I want.

EDIT: You know all those old CDs I brought back from my parents's house with me? Well, I keep finding new stuff I don't remember recording on CD on them (today, I found a Jessica Simpson song on one ... blech), and one of the songs I found and have no idea where it came from was a Spuffy mix somebody must have done right at the beginning of Buffy's sixth season that was this pretty intrumental with Spike and Buffy dialogue cut in between, ending with the "Every night, I save you" from Spike.

I seriously need to stop listening to it, because I alternate between the happy hopefulness I felt back then and the urge to go to Noxon's and Fury's houses and hit them both with large metal shovels.

(no subject)

I only have enough time to see one movie tomorrow. On one hand, I have tangible proof from the Wimbledon trailer that Paul Bettany allows his abdominal area a bit of quiet, thankfully visible introspection. On the other hand, Gwyneth Paltrow is easy to make fun of, and Jude Law is a half-ton of sex poured into a thimble.