Minions.
I spent most of yesterday, one of the last beautiful and sunny days here in Portland, cleaning the house and playing video games. I was going to go for a run or at least a bike ride but put it off until today because it too was supposed to be nice.
Fail.
So now I'm inside, appreciating my cleaning from the day before. Being careful not to do anything productive. I'm watching the movie "Very Bad Things" because that's what I do when a bachelor party and/or Vegas in particular enters my sites. You know, the sites mounted on the rifle that is my average-on-a-good-day penis. Does anyone else think Cameron Diaz is the quintessential butterface? It's an issue I've grappled with for a while. Is killing a hooker a rite of passage? Is the reason I feel perpetually emasculated because I have yet to bury a dead stripper in a, well, anywhere? No, it has to be something darker than that.
Very Bad Things: Ari Gold is about to accidentally kill the hooker in the bathroom. I shouldn't be watching this. I should be watching "I Need That Record!" - a documentary on the impact of downloads and piracy on the independent record stores. Heh, me watching that movie would be like Hitler watching a documentary on the Holocaust.
GoochOut
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