"But ah'm not afraid of dyin'. Cause I know that when I get to heaven there are gonna be these wonderful trees, and ah'm gonna climb them. But you know what? Instead of leaves and flowers, those trees are gonna have fried eggs, and delicious Virginia ham, and big heaping bowls of biscuits and sausage gravy. And one day, Sammy, you're gonna meet me there, and we're gonna climb those breakfast trees together, and it's gonna be delicious and we're gonna be happy until the end of time."


Someone set up us the bomb!

I don't have much to report these days, though I have been spending an inordinate amount of time in the dark recesses of the local cineplexes. Last night, saw Spiderman 2 sandwiched between Michael and some guy for whom the concept 'personal space' doesn't carry much meaning. The movie was great, but the aforementioned dude nearly ruined it for me. So dude, whoever you are, you shouldn't touch girls in dark movie theaters. No matter how cute they are. Or how good they smell. I realize I'm irresistible, but please.
Whatever you do, don't see 'The Terminal'. I was attempting to follow that advice for myself, but my mother intervened. She apologized afterward. I have a strange habit of gnawing my nails down to the nub during films in the theater, particularly suspenseful or painfully bad ones. There I was, working on my left thumbnail, when I look over at my mom...to find her gnawing on her left thumbnail. Creepy. We were doing it in sync.
Tonight is Disney movie extravaganza for me and my little sister. I'm thinking we'll paint our nails, talk about boys, lip sync into our hairbrushes, and gush over Orlando Bloom. Or something. What do twelve-year olds do these days? Is it time for the hard drugs yet? Or should we start with Jell-O shots?

Gentlemen: All your base are belong to us.