Ha! Kidding. Losers.

I just wiped my bottom today. What I wiped from my bottom was not quite as smelly or stinky as what I wiped from my bottom yesterday or the day before, so I must say I was impressed.

Also, I thought what i wiped from my bottom tied in very nicely with what I wiped from my bottom for three days twenty-five years ago.

*sigh* Childhood....

Oh calm down. I’m not talking about YOUR web site. I’m talking about that other web site that had that post. Well... not THAT other web site, the other one.

Well that narrows it down, doesn’t it?

I know. I know. I have LOTS and LOTS of crappy content in my archives too. For instance, I use caps WAY WAY too MUCH. So no need to take it personally, right?

My phone buddy called last night. She had just seen the movie and told me everything about it. So by extension, I saw it too. But my version had no special effects, and a northwest suburbs Baltimore accent, and was only two hours long. Anakin was really really cute, and Padmé had some gorgeous outfits, and I liked her hair, but I didn’t like her as much as I did in Garden State.

Her cat is doing great, by the way.

I shouldn’t complain. I enjoy talking to the phone buddy and eventually enjoyed talking to her last night; but towards the end of my version of Revenge of the Sith, I was just about ready to go over to the dark side myself. I’m okay with the fact that we obviously don’t have the same tastes in movies. It bothers her for some reason. Why must she try to bridge the gap?

I should just be grateful that she thinks the internet is boring.

Okay, it’s confession time; so listen up, Star Wars Dorks. I used to be a much bigger Star Wars freak than any of you. Well, maybe not this guy(love ya, dude), but I had the rest of you beat. Granted, I didn’t have all the toys. My parents wouldn’t buy me toys I could break, and I couldn’t stop myself from spending all of my allowance on glazed donuts. So I spent my toyless childhood crusted in sugar and dreaming of Star Wars (the glazed donut addiction has returned, by the way). I still remember that day in the gymnasium, between beatings from my fellow pre-pubes, when I was told that George Lucas was going to come out with a prequel to the Trilogy in a couple of years.

So I waited and I waited. Decades went by, and I waited. Hair grew in some new places, started to disappear in others, and I waited. Collages were attended, and I waited. Virginities were lost, well maybe not mine, but other people’s, and I waited. Sugar was replaced with alcohol, and occasionally a little cocaine, and I waited.

And then, in 1999, something HORRIBLE happened. Episode I was released. My friends and I went all the way out to the suburbs to a great big movie theatre with surround sound and everything. I was so excited I had to leave my shirt untucked. I had heard the reviews, I knew that they weren’t good, but I said to myself, “NONSENSE! It’s Star Wars! How bad can it be?” Oh, let me tell you, a big part of me died sitting in that giant suburban movie theatre with surround sound that day.

When the movie was over and the lights came up, and the little sad children looked up to their parents and asked them why they made go and see that movie, I stood up and screamed at the blank screen “You’re dead to me!”

My friends looked at me cock eyed and said “Dude. It sucked, but it’s only a movie. Calm down. Let’s go get a beer or something.”

“I don’t want a beer. I want to try a scotch” I replied.

Okay, okay, I’m exaggerating a little bit and maybe George Lucas isn’t ENTIRELY responsible for me introducing myself to scotch; but he’s at least a little responsible and he knows he is.

Besides, I said Star Wars was dead to me and I meant it. And if there is one thing that I am it is man who is true to my word. Well... not always. Like if you ask me to do a favor, or pick you up at the airport, or the hospital, or remember to post your bail; I’m not really a man of my word then. But if I say something is dead to me, then I am. Usually. Except when I’m not.