Day 7: I am going crazy.

Am also experimenting with concealors to figure out how much I would have to use in order to cover my pox and sneak out of the house, as I am beginning to claw at the walls. So far, oil-based works best.

I think I'm getting better, not that I would really know. But I am getting really sick of wearing clothes that don't touch my skin.

Imladris saw POTC again yesterday. I sat and tried not to scratch. Bugger bugger bugger bugger bugger. I am not pleased with her.

While sitting and trying not to scratch, however, I did some thinking and realized that Jack Davenport sported a really hot quite full beard at the premiere, which occurred while they were shooting the third film. Ergo, as I'm fairly certain that facial hair was frowned upon in the Royal Navy circa 1800, Norrington must be piratey and hot for at least some of the next movie. Ha! I can rest easy. (Yes, I realize that is a little sad. I don't care. You try sitting inside for a week and a half. )

In keeping with our Pirate theme, which is actually pretty much the theme of my life lately, I opened EW's blog this morning and almost fell out of my chair. Okay. I read it. I understood it. I think it's fake. First, major grammatical errors. Disney can't spring for spell checker? Second, I'm disinclined to trust anything that shows up on myspace, except maybe threats of death of pornography. And third, my previous theory about Norrington's beard just doesn't fit at all. But I still feel compelled to post it anyway, because my brain has been hijacked and now strictly does Michael Eisner's bidding. And it fits with this, so I'm a little confused. For the emotional reasons that will be obvious to anyone who reads it, I refuse to believe it is valid.

*scoffs*

Oh, God, we love the glasses. *faints*

*ahem* Back in my real life, which is pitiful and irritated and scabby, I'm still having the major life/academic crisis of faith that I first described below. Although, really, you could scroll through here and find probably eight-ten different life/academic crises of faith, and they all look remarkably the same. Whatever. I'm not terribly imaginative, but I am dramatic.

So I don't know what I want to do with my life. Colleen thinks I should marry Tony Blair. Which sounds like a good plan, once you get past the "What? Ewwww!" factor, but I'm sensing some problems. While he is one of the few world leaders I can think of who isn't pervy, French, or poisoned (meanwhile, our pox match! How cute!), there are the teeny problems like a.) I don't know him, b.) he's married, and c.) I have a feeling that my constant quoting of Bridget Jones's Diary might get on his nerves. So no matter how much fun my sister thinks living in the basement of 10 Downing Street would be, I'm not thinking that's going to work out. It can be Plan B.

Currently, Plan A is under construction. It is a long construction, because the architect is keeps changing her freakin' mind. Bugger bugger bugger bugger.

I have decided, however, that part of Plan A will involve me living in this house. I don't know whose house it is, or why somebody made it into an icon, but I know I love it and I want to move in soon.

Big thunderstorms early this morning y'all. Terribly dramatic and fun to watch for those of us with insomnia around three thirty. Crazy lightening and thunder. Ooooh. Then they knocked the power out, which was terribly scary and fun until I realized that none of our fans worked and the air conditioning was regrettably also electrical. Bugger.

We spent the next hour lying on top of my blanket trying to sleep. Thankfully, a loverly little truck pulled up around five and began fixing things and soon our fans were back on. Whoo!!! Although I think they could have done without the flashing rotating law enforcement-like lights RIGHT OUTSIDE MY HOUSE AT FIVE O'CLOCK. But whatever. They gave me air conditioning and running water. I love them.

Okay, somebody has got to start telling casting directors that Henry VIII was NOT hot. Seriously, first that angry Irish guy my sister likes so much who is, admittedly, quite attractive, and now Eric Bana??? No. No. Henry VIII was powerful, and had a penchant for decapitating people who did not do what he asked. That's why he has so many wives. It was not his magnetic appeal. Although towards the end he probably exhibited something of the same gravitational pull of many planets magnets.

I'd also just like to say that I read The Other Boleyn Girl, as well as countless other books about both Mary and Anne Boleyn, and I CANNOT see Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson in the roles.

So, how much do you think Tom Cruise is paying Leah Remini? My guess? A LOT. Altough maybe it's easier to bribe a scientologist. You know, the brotherhood and all that.

Finally, I found this on somebody's blog. It's freakin' hilarious, especially for those of us who spend way too much time on internet communities. "going downhill", "not the same as it was". HAHAHAHAHAHA (John: Don't click on it. VERY bad language.)

Oooh, there was just a Very Great Crash from the kitchen, and Imladris just informed us that we need mayo.

Have a good day!!!