Day Seventy Nine: I can't really think of titles anymore.

So, further evidence that I'm a horrifyingly sad bastard, I spent much of my morning watching Mean Girls. There's something wrong with me, I'm sure. Also, what went wrong with Lindsay Lohan? Seriously, she was all sorts of awesome in Mean Girls, and then she just kinda stopped doing anything remotely good. Although, she was superbly outshone by Lizzy Caplin, who I will make my wife one day. My word yes.

And that blonde one too, Rachel McAdams? My word yes. But only when she had dark hair. Blonde, and in the movie, she's just a little too convincing as an entity of pure scary evil.

Anyway.

I've been in a weird sort of funk recently, with the constant zombie genocide of Left 4 Dead and the resultant erratic sleep pattern making my brain feel funny. But I've got the solution. A proper good night of drinking, followed by some hardcore sleeping through all of Saturday. I'm going to tear mad shit through the 90's LCR, so I'd like to apologise to anyone who I meet that night, as I'm going to be ludicrously, horribly drunk, and I won't be a nice person.

I think what really fucked me up this week was getting absolutely destroyed for Tuesday's beach party LCR. (well, I had to. It was nice to bring out the enormous hat again, for no real reason.) Ordinarily that wouldn't be a problem, but I then had to go to Liberate! with Callum and Damien for another epic gay night which I believe culminated in a magnificent rendition of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody all along the Avenues, followed by watching about half of Goldeneye, which is now officially the best Bond movie ever. I decided that this was so, with great authority.

So, yeah, I'm going to attempt to get my brain unfucked soon. There isn't that much left of this term now!

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Now playing: Guster / One Man Wrecking Machine