Or not...

Okay, so I have to report that while we did not find Sam Jackson, we did find Jack Samson. That's right, on our way back to the car, Justin and I were accosted by an exceedingly drunk guy who yelled out to random women to "suck his dick," and then proceeded to tell us that "we didn't have girlfriends because we couldn't say shit like that." Never mind that the response of said women was "fuck off, pervert." Umm...while it may be true that I have no girlfriend, I'm pretty sure that this fact has nothing to do with the fact that I refuse to refer to them as "bitches and hoes" and exhort them to "suck my dick." While we did not have the opportunity to yell out "Snakes on a muthafuckin' Plane!", we did have a good time.

Snakes on a Plane!

Tonight, Justin and I go in search of Samuel L. Jackson. This should be interesting. Perhaps pictures will be forthcoming, but no promises. In other news, I've discovered one of the drawbacks to my job. This is mainly that we do things so secret that I can't really gripe about them to anybody when I get home. You could call me a writer, but I guarantee you will probably never read anything I've ever written, namely because it is, as I have mentioned, secret. This was made abundantly plain to me when a friend of mine joined up with the company, and needed to read one of the manuals I wrote. In order to do this, he had to sign several NDAs just to look at the title page. I've adapted to this, but it has taken some time.

There's no point in living anymore! I can't go on! Where's my kayak!?!?

Last night, Justin and I saw V for Vendetta, and I have to say, it was pretty damn good. It was definitely worth the two hours. Afterwards, we hit Shari's (as that is the only restaurant open on the north side after hours), and hung out for a bit. We then returned to his place, where we watched "Gunslinger" from MST3k. We then proceeded to watch Conan, hoping to catch a glimpse of Josh. No glimpse was caught, sadly, though there were some pretty awesome skits.
In other news, apparently there is an honest-to-god comic book shop on the north side now, which I heartily recommend. It's called "Rocket!" (yes, the exclamation point is actually a part of the name), and it's in the mall right across from the theater. I encourage people to frequent it, as it would not do for this bastion of nerdism on the north side of town to die out in front of our very eyes.

Feebs!

Well, it turns out that I was wrong in my prediction of a UCLA victory, so no extra cash for me. Oh well. Sunday night, Justin came over, which as usual meant some hardcore nerdism. I'm thinking we should create an anthology called "The Controls Are All In German: the Foot-In-Mouth Guide to Dating and Mating." This would be a sort of "how-not-to-do-it" guide to dealings with the opposite sex, composed of all the awkward things that my friends and I have said and done around girls. If you have any suggestions, let me know.