I know what you’re thinking; you’re thinking I’ve neglected you. You’re thinking that I’ve lost all interest in you and that I no longer find you sexy. You think just because I haven’t written an entry in more than a week, that it’s over. It’s not over, baby. I’ve just been so stressed out but you’re always on my mind. I’m sorry. Give me another chance. I’ll make it up to you.

Yes, it’s true. Midterms took over my life and threatened to undo the very fabric of my reality. But, you see, I’ve pulled through with a mediocre grade. Of course, it’ll happen all over again at the end of the semester when finals finally prove that I am incapable of learning and logical reasoning.

Speaking of retardation, I spent the weekend watching movie after movie in the theaters. I kicked off my Friday with the unbelievably long Elizabethtown. The film actually has tons of potential but, like a ginormously sappy episode of Full House, it tries to cram every emotional catastrophe into a short time slot. I don’t particularly like Orlando Bloom and watching him on-screen forces my body to develop twice the testosterone to make up for his femininity.

Next was my almost-viewing of the dizzying Domino. The movie is shit. Not the shit, mind you. Just shitty. I saw the first 15 minutes of the film before the projector broke and we were all hauled out of the theater with a “Sorry, here’s a voucher”. Let’s just put it this way, if I took a huge dump, smeared it on the screen and took highly stylized, colorized and fancy shots of it; I would have made Domino II. But hey, I like Keira, I like Mickey. I like Lucy and Christopher and the whole lot of them. I just don’t like them together.

I’ve got this thing for the adorably annoying Ryan Reynolds, so against my better judgement, I went to see Waiting. It’s got all the right penis jokes, sexual references and toilet humor that I require on a daily basis. I just wish they hadn’t played The Ringer preview; only one thought prevaded my mind throughout the entire film: why hasn’t Johnny Knoxville died already?

While The Ringer attempts to take on a Dumb and Dumber spin at retardation in the Special Olympics, in the mix attempts to put a Special Olympics spin on DJing…for the mob? All right, look. I know some of you like Usher. I know some of you may even listen to him on a regular basis although I shudder to think it. I know some of you may even fantastize having sex with his flat-as-a-pancake face. But, let’s be honest here: it’s not exactly a stretch for Usher to play the role of a womanizing musician who dodges bullets in his spare time.

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