Didn't we almost have it all?

I have a Whitney Houston song in my head (see above). This cannot be good. Don't you find it odd that "can" and "not" are separate words, but "cannot" is allowed together? Also, homonyms are weird... like "allowed" and "aloud." Remember that movie with Holly Hunter, Queen Latifah, and Danny Devito? Living Out Loud? I never saw it, but it looked mediocre. That is one random-ass cast, though.

Listen, all you Twitter people (that saw my drinking tweets) who may be reading this: I AM NOT DRUNK. I may be drinking, but I am not drunk. I am bored, and thus amusing myself by writing inane shit. I SHOULD be working on important shit, but it's late, and I don't want to worry about that. SO THERE. CAPS LOCK. Anyway, I read something earlier today about how people should never say "I'm bored" because the world is so beautiful and full of things to do and we should all come together and hold hands and say kumbaya or whatever the fuck. That is stupid. People get bored. Yes, our lives are short, and we should live each moment to the fullest, but I prefer to just be BORED sometimes and entertain myself (by blogging). Or complain about it (by blogging). Or annoy a friend until he/she decides to hang out with me (this option rarely involves blogging). This is LIFE. You can tell people to "grab the bull by the horns" or some shit for your entire life, and there will still be people complaining about being bored. Gah, I hate upbeat people.

You guys. I love Cold Case. And it is a TERRIBLE show that rightly got cancelled a season or two ago. But I watch it a lot in reruns, and I can't get enough. Like, there is a lot of shitty TV on late at night, and I usually pay no attention to it because I'm fucking around on the internet, but I watch Cold Case every damn time. IT'S SO BAD. AND CHEESY. AND BAD. The whole premise is about old cases that never closed (hence the term "cold," and if you don't know that, you've never seen a crime procedural in your life, and I don't know if we can be friends), so there are these flashbacks to the events leading up to the crime, and they use the most OBVIOUS (but usually meticulously time-appropriate) music ever to set up each flashback. And THEN each show ends with a montage, using a flashback-appropriate song. They've done a lot of different time periods, but my favorite are the '80s episodes, of course. because there are so few legitimately sincere songs from that period. Once, they ended an episode with a montage set to "Can't Fight This Feeling" by REO Speedwagon (man, I just Googled that, to make sure I had the band right, and I DID, and I felt sad about knowing who sings "Can't Fight This Feeling")... and I mean, HAVE YOU HEARD THAT SONG? In this day and age (what am I, 70?), you can't sincerely set a montage to that song. Yeesh. The point is, you should all be watching this show, and we should make a drinking game out of it.

So I had a birthday recently. I turned... an age that's fairly significant. Some people know exactly how old I am, but I'm refusing to say from now on. I have friends (even some who are close to my age) who think I'm being stupid for not talking about it, but I don't care. I have my own feelings about my age, and I'm allowed to have them, and no one can change my mind about those feelings. The fact is, there is a stigma placed on women (particularly those involved in the performing arts), especially in regards to age, so I'd just prefer to avoid that stigma until I'm forced to reckon with it. Given the fact that I look younger than I am, I figure I have at least 7 years before I have to do that. However... I should stop using words like "reckon" if I want to sound younger, AND not like a country bumpkin. (Aw, "bumpkin," another word that I probably shouldn't use. I'm old and adorable. Oldorable... ew. That kind of sounds like someone who is old and smelly.)

It doesn't help that I'm currently jobless, homeless, and without a checking account (I guess the last thing probably makes sense, considering the first two things). On top of that, nearly all of my friends that I've had since I was in my late teens/early twenties are married and/or having babies. None of my mind can wrap itself around that. Hell, I'm not sure I WANT to get married, and I'm almost positive I don't want to have babies. So it's not so much that I feel like I have to keep up, as much as I feel like I'm supposed to be wanting certain things in my life that I just... don't. Right now, I don't actually feel bad about those things, but that just might be the white trash Sangria talking.

GOD. This got weirdly depressing.

WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY ARE THEY MAKING A FINAL DESTINATION 5?!?!?! And why have I not seen a commercial for it before now? (Wait, why am I upset at not having seen a commercial? THIS is the problem with watching too much TV. Well, this, and the fact that I watch too much TV. That's a problem within itself. This is getting awfully existential.... about TV.) I hate people. WE are the reason these terrible fucking movies get made. Do you REALLY feel the need to watch horror movies in the theater? Are the scares that much scarier on the big screen? STOP FEEDING THESE MOVIE SHITSTORMS. Sigh. Okay, but really, I just hate horror movies with a passion, because they scare the ever-loving shit out of me. I cannot handle the big-jump scares OR the gore. In other words, I'm a big scaredy-cat. Also, Tony Todd is fucking cool (he's in Final Destination 5, if you didn't know, AND YOU SHOULDN'T), and I wish some Tarantino-esque director would get him out of the horror movie slums and put him in something awesome.

I feel sweaty.

I'm bored.

So this week we started rehearsal for a show that's going to New York. On Monday, we had an intense day physically, which meant that my hip hurt like a BITCH on Tuesday (because I'm old). It was really stiff, and I had a super pimp-limp all day. Anyway, I was running to get back to a movie (I had to pee in the middle of it), and my hip gave out... which means I rolled my ankle. Now, my hip doesn't hurt but my FUCKING ANKLE IS KILLING ME, which is making me pouty and whiny. Not attractive.

I haven't been able to do much today over than RICE my ankle. What's RICE? Rest, ice, compression, and elevation. I'd never heard of it either, until I Googled "rolled ankle" to see if I could do anything other than ice it. Thanks, internet! You're the best friend a girl can have. Diamonds are too mean, in my opinion.

I could have worked on many things that involve me sitting on my ass with my computer, but instead, I did nothing. So it's my own damn fault that I'm bored, and blogging about it. Man... this might be the boringest blogsby I've ever blogged. Blog. BLOG. Blog is a dumb-ass word. Blogsby might be dumber, but it's a close race. (WOAH, what if, like, Nascar had 2 cars, one named Blog and one named Blogsby, and they raced each other? I bet that wouldn't be very interesting. OOH! What if it were llamas instead of race cars? That'd be fun. I'd watch the shit out of that.)

[poop break]

You know what I hate? I fucking hate when I STRONGLY feel like I have to poop, and then I go to the bathroom, but I can't poop. I HATE IT. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE. SO MUCH HATE. And NOW I feel like I have to poop again (I'm off the toilet AND I didn't poop the first time), but I'm not going back into that bathroom until I'm literally about to POOP MY FUCKING PANTS. Stupid digestive system. (I'd like to take a moment here to apologize to Zane Harris, in case he happens to read this.)

Okay, so there's this lady who is, like, in EVERY commercial right now. I tried to Google "woman who is in lots of commercials," but that didn't work. You know what, internet? You're supposed to work all the time. NOT just when I need to fix my rolled ankle. I'M SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. You're like that baby I threw into a dumpster when I was drunk at the prom, and then it grew up into a genius who got a law degree when he was, like, 12, and then he sued me for "dumpster-birthing." Did you know that was a thing? I TOTALLY DIDN'T. Thanks, dumpster-baby lawyer, for RUINING MY LIFE. Just like the internet did. (Just kids, that totally didn't happen. I don't think. Whatever happened to that little dumpster-baby? I hope it's a hobo. Hobos are awesome.)

Anyway, this lady. She's Jack's wife in the Jack in the Box commercials, she talks to some dude on a couch in the Rooms to Go commercials, and she's recently been added to the E-surance commercials... and I'm almost positive she's in one or two other commercials too, but I haven't seen those recently. WHO IS SHE? Why won't the internet tell meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee? It's upsetting to me. AND when I see one of her commercials with someone else in the room, they don't recognize her from other commercials. UGH.

AHMAGAHAHMAHGAHAHMAHGAH. So I wanted to find the videos to show y'all, and I Googled "jack in the box commercial wife," and I FUCKING FOUND HER. Her name is Gillian Vigman. GILLIAN VIGMAN, YOU GUYS. I figured it out. Or rather, the internet did. YAY INTERNET! (I'm sorry I called you a dumpster-baby lawyer. That was mean of me.) She's actually been in a lot of shit, although I can't find anything about the commercials she's in. Well... that's not true. But I can't find anything about the commercials I CARE about. Ah well.

I made up "ah mah gah," and I just realized that having that many "h"s are kind of annoying. Ugh. I don't like looking at all those "AHMAHGAH"s up there. And I'm doing it again. I'm the WORST. Also, I want to start saying/writing "uch" instead of "ugh." It seems it's a more intense "ugh." DUDE, SO MANY QUOTATION MARKS. I hate everything I'm doing right now. I should stop doing all of it. Uch. (See? It works.)

It kinda bothers me more people aren't interested in inviting me places. And... I was gonna go on a diatribe about it, but it all sounded whiny in my head, so I stopped. Hey, friends: if you SAY you wanna hang out with me (or that you miss me), contact me and we'll hang out! It's that easy. If you don't wanna hang out with me, stop saying it to me. It's mean.

My foot is numb. Oooh, what if I AMPUTATED it? That would be a bad idea. But then I could attach a robot wheel to it (like Tracy Jordan in 30 Rock, with his diabetes), and that would be awesome. If I got to be a HUGE theatre director, I could train myself to wheel up thisclose to someone's face if they got mouthy with me. That would be a bad ASS idea. Ew, that looks weird, like it's an ass idea that's bad. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Maybe I should go to sleep.

But seriously... ROBOT WHEEL FOOT.

Oh my GOD I just want to go to sleep.

First, every page I get on for Blogger pops shit up at me. I don't need you to tell me how to do everything. I CAN FIGURE IT OUT, ASSHOLE.

Anyway.

I'm starting another blog. How many blogs have I had in my life? Good night... I dunno. By saying "good night," you can guess that I'm old enough to at least have had 5. Wait - old people don't have blogs. This logic is flawed.

So my "about me" section is right. I wanted my blog to be under the same account as my Gmail. I was tired of blogging and stupid Blogger taking me out of Gmail. Although... I don't really blog often. So I guess it's not really a problem.

The truth is? I'm vain, and want a new blog, so I'm making it happen. RIGHT NOW. I love caps, and parentheses, and ellipses, and quotations marks, and I want to share them with the WORLD. I will do it! Now. Or something.

Or maybe I'll just make this where I write about pop culture. Because I have thoughts a lot to write about things that I know about in the entertainment world (and trust me, I know a lot). I certainly won't write about my life in a sad, boring way. Because I am sad and boring enough in real life. I don't need to attack people with it in my blog life.

I hate the word blog. HATE HATE HATE. I prefer blogsby because it makes you think of Bill Cosby, but it's removed enough to where you only remember the comforting part of Cosby, and not the weird illegitimate child-having, possibly lady-harassing parts of Cosby. BLOGSBY! Feel comforted. I'll sit on a stool and tell you about being a father.

Oh my god I'm being random. I need to go to sleep. Stupid work, ruining my life.