07.28.2001 - Look Away

Today was an Ugly Day. Thanks to the return of the Lesions Of Doom, I was feeling so physically unattractive that I didn't want to leave the house for fear of seeing someone that I know and scaring the urine right out of them. It's okay though, 'cause nobody seems to have time for The Jeffy lately.

Nobody, that is, except for Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld. He'll still love me even if I look like Mel Gibson in Man Without A Face. He was in town to find a place to live for next year. He found a place before noon and called me to see if I could do lunch. I always have time for the kid.

So I went out to lunch with Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld and his dad. We kicked it old school at a downtown Mexican eatery and I Prayed To Michael Eisner that I wouldn't run into anyone I knew. My plan worked out.

After lunch, we went back to the apartment complex to drop off a deposit check for his place. When we got there, I was kind of disappointed. It's a really ghettofied apartment complex and they were asking way too much for the apartment. I suggested he put a deposit down and look elsewhere. He could find something way better for about two hundred dollars less a month.

The bastard is getting his own apartment though. I am so jealous I could just kick him in the twat.

They dropped me back off at my house at about three and kept looking. Even though I didn't want to leave the house, I got monumentally bored after about an hour of sitting on my ass. I tried to think of things to do. Going to a movie sounded perfect because I'd be in a dark room, and if I went out to Sacramento, the chances of running into anyone I might know and/or want to make out with were slim.

I picked up, headed out to the Tower Theatre and finally saw Sexy Beast. It was so worth the wait.

Jerry Bruckheimer and whomever else keeps churning out these idiotic Summer explosion flicks should be strapped into a chair and forced to watch this movie Clockwork Orange style until they start to make films that don't actually decrease my brain mass. Plenty of Egoyan-esque visual symbolism and outstanding acting turn Sexy Beast from a film that could have easily been as flat and lame as The Score into an incredibly smart, funny and visibly stunning crime film. Imagine Paul Thomas Anderson re-writing and directing Snatch.

The most surprising thing about this movie is Ben Kingsley's performance as a level four asshole. Who would've thought that Ghandi could be more of a hardass than Samuel L. Jackson?

Unfortunately, the movie was the end of my fun for the day. Rather than do something productive like exercise or clean, I sat on my ass long enough that my ass and chair became one. It's beautiful in a lazy bastard sort of way.

This is my weekend. I'm so excited I could puke.

--Jeffy