2002-04-23 - 11:58 p.m.

Seriously. Here's the deal. 1989 was a big year. I can clearly remember Tarun meeting Bryant and I by swimming out to the rocks halfway between the island and the beach. He had gone to see Batman on its opening day the night before. He sat there describing the Batmobile to us for like 15 minutes. We HAD to go see it. And I did. Like 4 times. Man did I love that movie. I wasn't even reading comics at that point! And I thought Kim Basinger as Vicki Vale had to be the hottest woman on the entire planet. (Keep in mind this was 5th Grade, and that Vixen with a Heart of Coal - Olive "Rusty/O-Lange-o-tang" Lange - just wasn't cutting it in the sex appeal department. Man, 5th Grade Wit is like Wit boiled down to its most raw form) Anyway, that was 1989. I started reading comics right after that, and even THEN there was talk of a Spider-Man movie. And now, despite being feeble and flea-bitten in 2002, I am just as fuckin' excited about "Spider-Man" as I would have been at the very start of the elder Bush's first year in office. Seriously, my brain pees itself every time I see a preview for it. This movie is going to bankrupt me though (if Chad's Wedding and the Durham Police Department don't first). There's multiple Spidey TV GUIDE covers this week, the cover of the new Entertainment Weekly, cover of Premiere, die-cast metal helicopters at CVS, pop-tarts, GLOW IN THE DARK MOTHERFUCKING TATTOOS at the candy store in the mall. Seriously. Those tattoos were MADE FOR ME. Can't you see me in my room in the middle of the night standing on my bed crying big crocodile tears of joy and licking the glow-in-the-dark Spider-Man tattoos on my arms?? Well, I can see it.

There was this weird Irish family in G. Willikers tonight. One of their weird potato-loving kids was named Olan(n?). Which is weird because I've only ever known one Olan. But it's not that weird, since he was a weird Irish kid too. Olan accidentally cut my middle finger in Coggin's class one time and I still have the scar. So even when I'm too old to remember to blink (and in the process moisten my peepers) I'll have a life-long reminder of ol "8505" Kerrison. Grand.

So speaking of funny European accents, this old Scottish guy comes into work tonight. (Apparently it was bring your Old World fruitcakes to the Fox Run Mall night or something, I don't know - but no sight of Rula though). So anyway, he comes in and just looks at me and Steph. So I say hello to him. The rest I will type in script form, as it is easier. (Please forgive me if I portray him as sounding Irish or Pirate)

Old Crazy Scottish Guy: "G. Willikers, eh?"

Zach: "Um, yup. G. Willikers."

OCSG: "Aye, I'll tell ye this, I like the term 'G. Willikers' fair enough, but I'm more partial to 'Gadzooks'."

Z (trying SO HARD not to laugh): "Gadzooks? Yeah . . .that's a good one too."

OCSG: "Aye, in the 30's we were all runnin' 'round sayin' 'Gadzooks!'"

Z: "Yeah. . .well, I . . .I've heard my grandmother say that a few times I think." (LIE LIE LIE)

OCSG: "But tell me this! Yuir son brings ye ta Sears and then 'e wants ye to buy a Saturn, what do ye tell 'im?"

Z: ". . ."

Steph: "That's. . .a good question."

Z: "I hear, I hear that Saturns are a good car. Um, I hear the company is really good to their employees."

OCSG: "I weren't like them rich ones. I weren't the one sayin' it."

Z: ". . ."

S: ". . ."

OCSG: "'Twas the Ar-r-r-r-istocrats! They were the ones runnin' 'round sayin' 'Gadzooks!'"

You have no idea how much I WISH I made that story up. I did not. But Marianne called and Steph had the pleasure to keep talking to him but that's all I got to talk to him about. I am proud though that he defied his nationalistic stereotype and not once called either of us a "wee laddie" or a "wee bonnie lass".

Ok, but has anyone seen that Snapple ad where the Parent Snapples leave for the night and the kid Snapple's throw this big party, and then the parent Snapple's come home early and are SO PISSED. Ok, it sounds gay but it is SO FUNNY. It's not Carol Hopkins funny, but it is definitely HA HA funny.

Ok, imagine you are in Hollywood pitching a movie (and you aren't allowed to cast any talking dogs, pies, or toasters) and you pitch the following movie: "It's like that Blockbuster SMASH "Sleeping With The Enemy", and by "like it" I mean it has everything in it from the towels to the ferris wheel. It casts The Rocketeer as the VILLIAN (gasp!) against a J-Lo that looks so butch that even Dr. Kerry "I got 3rd Row Etheridge seats, top that Les Foote beeyatch!" Weaver would pass on her at her lowest point in one of those techno-blaring Chi-town Lesbionic Bars. Oh Oh, and let's throw Juliette Lewis in too, because we really need to UP the FREAK FACTOR. And let's give it a REALL REALLY catchy title called "Enough" and -wait for it- let's put it up against Spider-Man and Star Wars Episode II. You sir would be laughed out the door. . .IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE, since APPARENTLY, in THIS UNIVERSE, this movie has EASILY been made by probably the same brain trusts that keep on King of The Hill and get rid of Undeclared.

Argh. Whatever. I hate my group for my Film Class? Have I EVER mentioned that? I have a QWANOURMAS paper due in English next week and a 15 page paper due for English 2 weeks after that (which needs to MAJORLY reference a minimum of SIX[6] texts) and I have NO CLUE WHAT I'M GONNA WRITE ANY OF THE PAPERS ON. Oh and this is grand. Up until this very minute (12:41 am) I had every intention of skipping my 8 o'clock tomorrow morning but I JUST REMEMBERED we have a quiz tomorrow. Grrrrrr. Well, I guess that's better than remembering tomorrow while I watch NewsRadio and feed myself fried Roast Beef at noon. Mmmmmmmm, "noon".

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I'm going to bed.

It's been real,

Baila Conmigo

"On my signal, with feeling: GADZOOKS!!"

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