Weird dreams of my brother cutting my hair and it bouncing back and forth between looking really cool and really scary. Methinks that this was brought on by watching The Bourne Identity right before bed. Never seen, and as I accidentally paid approximately sixty freaking bucks for The Bourne Ultimatum (due to not responding to Columbia House's Director's Selection in time and it shipping and overdrafting my account), I figured I could finally watch the thing... as soon as I saw the first two movies. (By this theory, I need to get my ass in gear and watch seasons one through five for 24, as I spent about $70 for season six for the same idiotic reason.)
I think it's finally been long enough that my anger at Matt Damon has ceased. Well, at least for THAT reason. I'm starting to have a new hatred for his flat acting in these movies. "Hello, I'm Matt Damon. I'm torn up inside because of everything I don't know about myself, but you'll never be able to tell the depth of it, as I show about as much emotion as wallpaper. At least I'm not Keanu Reeves."
What should it say about my life that they just announced on the news that The Purple One just released a new album, and I thought "Barney" instead of "Prince"? I don't even have kids, for poop's sake!!
Coworker Lori has been declaring Karl Urban as One Sexeh Man for (presumably) longer than I've known her. Now that I'm part way through The Bourne Supremacy, I'm wondering if he's taking applications for bearing his children, or if he would mind terribly if I humped his leg.
I really need to get rid of all the icons I never feel like using and uploading a buttload more.