I heart getting mail.

I got this, this, and this in the mail today. Clearly the universe wants to make up for the fact that my stomach is killing me. I'm totally going to end up wearing sweatpants to the movie theater and I don't even care.

Okay, I'm going to go fix my hair and makeup and throw on some clothes that don't make my stomach cramps act up so that I can go to the freaking movies. Ugh.

"Iron Man" was AWESOME.

I hereby propose that Jon Favreau be allowed to go to Brett Ratner's house, ring the doorbell, wait until he answers, and then kick him full-on in the nutsack.

Also, I now remember why I never warn other people in movie theaters that there's something after the credits -- they never fucking listen. Oh, well. Their loss. :)

EDIT: Oh, and everybody needs to read Your Friends Are Not Watching the Same Show You Are (And That's Okay). So much stupid wank would be averted if more people would remember that just because you can't see subtext doesn't mean other people shouldn't, or that if you don't see the misogyny it's not there, or that ... well, you get the idea.

How do I prepare for a night out with the gay boys?

I copy all of my porn as a present.

Clearly, I am awesome.

(I've been threatening to give my Big Gay Boyfriend porn for months now, but I never actually remember. Heeeeeeeee.)