Heyyyy, Youuuu Guyyyyys!
The Goonies III: The Apocalypse, Starring Martin Sheen,
Coming Soon To A Theatre Near You

Ok. I can't kid a kidder. Or kidderS. Or Kimmy Gibbler. I was going to post a break down of my weekend. A sort of Day In The Life Of Me for the few of you that aren't already peeping in my window/hiding in the backseat of my car listening to me sing horrid Whitney Houston songs/calling my house and asking if my refrigerator is running just to see if I'm home/going through my trash in hopes of finding out what kind of shampoo I use. I was going to tell you about the tawdry illicit sex, and the intravenous drug use, and the hit and run accident while using my cell phone, and the trip to Vermont which led to the naked syrup making, but you don't really want to hear about that, do you? I didn't think so. You would much rather hear about the revelation I had while watching The Goonies. Or how I ended up naked in Raleigh-Durham International Airport. I know you so well. It's almost scary how in sync we are, isn't it? But not *Nsync, because that would be scary in a whole other way, a dressing alike, having crazy mad gay boy band sex and writing songs about it while claiming they're really about Britney Spears kinda way. And I don't think we're quite that close yet.


1. And now for The Goonies Prophecy. Also known as My Breakthrough. And when I say breakthrough I don't mean breakthrough of the Renee Zellweger's bastard son wants to go to the zoo/fewer clients, less money variety. This was serious. Seriously. I was watching The Goonies, because Goonies is a good movie to watch when you feel like killing everyone who enters your line of vision and/or your house is about to be torn down and a mall built in its place, and suddenly everything became crystal light, maybe even Krystal Carrington, clear.
Remember that scene in the movie when the Goonies reach the wishing well, only they don't know yet that they're in the wishing well, and Mouth is inspecting the coins and he says "...uh, President Lincoln, George Washington, uh, Martin Sheen..." when it's really JFK on the coin and when they call him stupid he says "Well, same difference!"? Yeah. See! The Goonies knew Martin Sheen would be president one day. How they knew, I don't know. It might have something to do with Christopher Columbus, or Chris as he likes to be called when he's not exploring the world, but instead writing movies, but I can't be sure. Wait, I know what you're thinking. But Martin Sheen isn't president, crazy girl. Oh, but he is, that is where you're wrong. He's President Jed Bartlet. The only President who has ever made me cry. Not counting that time Bill Clinton's Secret Service threw me up against a wall. But I'm getting away from the point here (Martin Sheen has that affect on me). My point is this, The Goonies were like the original Psychic Friends, only they were cooler because they had one of the Coreys and Josh Brolin who I think once dated Minnie Driver pre-Cambodian sweatshop obsession, and Chunk, who I think is Minnie Driver, although these reports haven't been confirmed. And who knows what else The Goonies predicted! If only I had not become distracted when Martin Sheen entered the picture!


2. Don't you hate when you find yourself in crazy situations and you have no recollection of how you got there? Well last night I was standing completely naked in Raleigh-Durham International Airport. Crying. All I wanted was to go home and get my clothes. And my iPod. But my brother, who has a large head and who once told me when I was little that he killed smurfs, wouldn't let me. He told me to be tough. I'm not so tough. His telling me to be tough just made me cry harder. My family and their goddamn exercises in Character Building! I swear, I am so going to cut their cable wires so they can't watch another episode of Dr. Phil if it's the last thing I do! Luckily this turned out to be just a dream and not another one of my family's crazy mental endurance tests after all! Now hopefully my dreams are not psychic the way The Goonies turned out to be, because I really am going to Raleigh-Durham International Airport this week. And I really hope I at least have my iPod.


Now I have to go try to rig up a lightning pole and drive my car at 88mph towards it so that I can travel back in time and catch that episode of Alias I missed tonight when I was out drinking Moose Juice. Who knows, it just may work, and Michael Vartan may sense me watching him through the TV and track me down and ask me to be his wife. Well, probably not, I'll probably just end up with a head wound that will cause me to have selective amnesia and forget that I don't like wax beans and I will end up eating wax beans for the rest of my life, only to turn into a wax bean shortly before I die. That would be just my luck.