I'm just a cock-eyed pessimist

Dear Morpheus,

While it is very pleasant indeed to have dreams in which cookwitch comes to visit me, next time have it not be a dream in which there is a hurricane and the house we're in blows over. It got my heart rate up really high and made it hard for me to sleep. I realize you're not responsible for the people upstairs being so loud at 4 in the morning nor the fact that I was too warm and my tummy felt a bit odd, but you still could have helped me get back to sleep in my own bed and before 5 AM. I feel it's highly unlikely that gods have day jobs, so you can't really sympathize with my predicament, but if you felt like I do right now you'd be kicked off of Mount Olympus for deriliction of duty.

Yours with insomnia,

Cowgirl

After a day of work best described as ... best appreciated while under heavy sedation ... and Pilates (fun as ever, and BEHOLD the knee exercises from physio are ALREADY paying off!), I joined shadowdaddy and wechsler at the Riverside Studio to see Team America: World Police. Man, I'm SO sorry I missed seeing this with my brother. It was 12 shades of wrong, offensive to everyone, personally offensive to many celebrities (most painfully to Matt Damon and Susan Sarandon), and the irony of watching it in London was killing me. (And it was especially hysterical after watching the Americans aren't stupid clip on YouTube.)

And ... what can I say, I just can't believe I watched a movie in which both the deep and meaningful turning point speech (from the old man, in the bar) and the energizing "Team USA!" speech at the end involved pussies, dicks, and assholes, the following words spoken over and over again. And again. My. It was insanely rude and I was falling out of my seat laughing. Because really, if we don't band together and stand up against the assholes, we're all going to be in deep shit.