The day wasn't a total waste. I rented 2 movies:

Punch Drunk Love: Adam Sandler attempts some acting in this one and did good. The movie was a little weird, but I liked it still. I don't know what it was, but in the movie, his 7 sisters razz him about being single, taunting him about the time when they use to taunt him with the name 'gayboy'. He's being calm about it, and the camera slowly zooms in on him, then a moment later, he's smashing the patio window. There's something liberating about a character in a movie that unleashes their pent-up feelings; that was just the first one in the film. It wasn't the best film, but it had a certain charm to it. My mom got bored with it and went off to the computer room.

Office Space: My argument for being unemployed, although no cash flow is an argument to have one. I hate the jobs I've had, and I know that any other job, besides acting, that I settle for will induce fantasies of strangulation and various types of violence at the workplace. This is for anyone who's had a job, whether you find the movie funny or not, as some people on Internet Movie Database seem to have varying opinions about this one. I was doing background work last month and some of the other extras were talking about this, after I brought my issue of Entertainment Weekly's 50 Cult Classics to read.

After the movie, my dad asked us if we wanted some beers: This is the strangest question he's ever asked me. He was in too good of a mood, so I assumed he'd had a few. I hate the taste of beer, so I suggested wine coolers, which I can tolerate. Moments later, he comes back with this low-grade crap, like we live in the ghetto or something, and I had to cut it with a can of iced tea, it was so bad. I took the new air popcorn popper for a spin, watched the half popped, half unpopped corn swirl and fly out and shoot at me, sometimes landing in the bowl, sometimes shooting the unpopped at me to scald me and shared the salty remains with the folks.

The only low point of my day was when during "Office Space", two male actors are chatting, and since my dad always looks for opportunities to say fag, he asks if those are two guys talking. Knowing where this'll lead, I snap and say,"Why, are you afraid they're gay or something? What if they were? What are you afraid of?" All he had to say was, "Do you hate when I say that?" to which I followed that with, "Well..." and the chit-chat petered out and disappeared. I don't know how teenagers handle sexual frustration and live at home with their parents. I'm too old to be living at home, not getting any, and snapping at my dad because of his homophobia. Guys get blue balls, what part of me is blue, or for that matter, purple? My womb is the Tasmanian Devil spinning out of control, and I don't want to let it loose out of desperation. I fear that the next time I have sex, it'll be just to relieve myself 'cause I can't seem to find something meaningful. I doubt that'll happen to me. I even hate looking back on my track record. I can't believe I ever thought I'd find love. I was so naive and idealistic. Sometimes I wish I still thought like that. It still seems like a crazy thought now, but back then, it was something to strive for. I even thought that if I had a wonderful love-life, I wouldn't be so interested in an acting career. I also fear that my feelings for acting will mirror those for my love-life. I've had more fulfillment from acting than.......yuch, I'm too negative whenever I think about it.