Sicky Weekend

Still locked up in the apartment with a raging monster of a cold. Oh, sorry. I mean, allergies. What a crock-full. I knew there was something wrong with the doctor I went to because she couldn't look into my eyes whilst speaking to me. You know what I mean? It's not the person's fault, they clearly have something wrong with them (can't tell if it's a physical or psychological thing but let's be real, if you're an effing doctor and it is a psychological thing to not look a patient in the eyes on purpose, that's super cranked-up) or what but the eyes are looking two inches to the right instead of my face. I'm sure the wall has been told its many symptoms over and over again. If I were the wall I would've told the doctor to shut the front door already. But walls don't do that. I think.

Still drug-less and in pain, I've decided to hole up on this sunny weekend and watch some recent big-hit mainstream movies. Finished Juno just now and by golly my goat, it is Good Stuff. The main character and her buddies are so hipster-ish it gets a bit grating but it makes me want to like angsty underground and slightly shit but ubercool bands again. Ok, she liked some awesome rock legends, too. I did like the film's plot a lot and it was refreshing to see no one shouting at each other. If they got pissed they sort of argued quietly and shut doors. She makes being pregnant not look so alien-ish or downright scary. But I've learned enough in my life that the stuff of tv and movies are not exactly 100% representative of things that happen for real. It's a feel-gooder. Good for a rainy (or sick and sunny) day.

Next up (actually, first up, since I watched this last night in the midst of hardcore sore-throatage. Ooh. Throatage. That doesn't seem right, does it? I keep wanting to put the word 'deep' in front of it. Filthy. Oh, get off, I'm sick and not in my right mind. 'Get off'. Heh.) is I Am Legend with the ever-aging-but-still-unbelievably-ripped Will Smith. I was actually on the set of this movie in Manhattan. Ooh, get a look at me. Nah, I'm all brag because I was actually held off by a puny PA on 5th Ave. for 30 minutes so they could get a shot of Will Smith's jeep going down the fake and filthy street. They filthified it with fake shrubbery and junk-yard cars. I took photos and talked to the PA who was actually not so bad. When he told me that it was a story about Will Smith being the last human in NYC and there are some sort of vampires on the loose, I thought, Oh jeez, this movie's gonna suck.

Eh. It was alright. I get scared easily because I can't take the unexpected. Haunted houses made me poo my pants (just about) when I was younger (22). When the fricking Blair Witch thingy came out I had to stop and call a friend to talk me through it. Seriously. Pathetic. I ended up doing the same thing with the Will Smith film last night. And my bf was in the same room. It is pretty bad when I have to stop it even with another person in the room. However, I made myself (and the bf to his chagrin) sit down and slowly make our way through the grisliness. I'm happy to say I've survived (with a cold, still).

Now, I'm honestly considering prolonging my illness to take a walk outside. It is taunting me. The fucker. Although, a trip to the chemist is a priority. I need kleenex box #5. Am off. 3 more films to get through. Serial killers, selfish queens and hardworking ones are on the agenda. Need to keep the pop culture up to date, you know.