This was written last Saturday night, but is only getting posted now. If you're lucky you might get a twofer today--I don't think I'm done ranting about The Mist.

Absinth. Cockroaches. The Mist. These are the things of the last 24 hours. These are the causes of my pain.

First, I suppose I should begin with the story of my drunkenness. My roommate and I threw a party. It seemed to go over well. But I began the night by drinking vodka and somewhere along the way I did a shot of Absinth. I ended the night quite drunk, but there is a positive side. I didn't throw up; I didn't molest anyone. And, to the best of my knowledge, I didn't even offer any blowjobs. These are all very good things.

Today has consisted of nursing my hangover, staring at my homework and deciding against completing any of it. But tonight I returned from a spoiled Bingo adventure, used my rest room, went to wash my hands...and saw the biggest, baddest, meannest, ugliest cockroach in the desert. That's right. He was two point one inches of ugly just hanging out in my sink. I screamed, and he ran around. Mocking me from the safety of the water basin. Thankfully there was someone here willing to kill him.

Now, it's possible, what with me being all pro nature and whatnot, that I should accept the existence of cockroaches (and giant spiders) in my apartment as natural and non-threatening. It's possible. If I were a better person I would even say necessary. But the fact of the matter is, I friggin' hate cockroaches. Maybe not as much as snakes, but hate nonetheless. They scurry. They scurry inside my walls; they probably scurry over me in the dead of the night, and I don't want them in my abode. If they could talk we would have a conversation that would go something like this:

Cockroach: Hey
Me: What'ya doing in my bathroom?!
Cockroach: Just hanging out.
Me: Well you need to go away.
Cockroach: Really? Me and my buddies're just chillin'
Me: You need to chill where I can never see you or I will kill you and everyone you've ever known.
Cockroach: Cool. Later.

Then he would go away and we could live in peace. But we can't have that conversation, so I'm going to keep on killing them until they are dead. I may be a crazy hippie, but I'm a crazy hippie with a can of Raid.

I have ended my night with watching The Mist. If you haven't seen it I don't recommend it. In fact, run away. Run far, far away. And don't look back. I thought, as we considered what we would do tonight, that if my friends and I watched The Mist, Thomas Jane's hotness would make palatable whatever horror this horror movie offered unintentionally by being bad. I was, unfortunately, wrong. It's just good enough to piss me off and make itself even worse in the process. Too good to be enjoyably bad and too bad to be anything but awful.

The screenplay writer seems to revel in the grotesque side of humanity. In fact, if the movie moralized anymore about the basic inhumanity of human nature I might very well have thrown up--something vodka couldn't even make me do. I don't want to give away the ending just in case you do find yourself in the unfortunate situation of watching this movie one day, but let me say this: if you believe people are inherently bad, then you must offer something that is inherently good. Otherwise nature is all unbalanced and either we're dealing with Hell (such as it is) or nothing being inherently anything, amorality which is something else all together. This is just one of the many ways this story fails so miserably.

I hate to beat a dead horse (though I wouldn't mind at all beating a dead cockroach since you can rarely tell if they are actually dead) so I will move on from my rant about this silly, silly movie. It isn't that I expected it to be good, you understand, but, much like Dragon Wars, I feel that if you are going to give me a B-rate film with a hot lead actor, the least you can do is require him to be shirtless for the vast majority of the movie. It is truly amazing what this will do for the quality of one's film. They've been doing it with topless girls for decades--why does no one realize it works with men as well?

Yes objectification is bad, no I'm not advocating it. But where's the morality in making bad movies hmm? This is a quandary.

Alright. I'm going to go check for cockroaches. Listen for the scream. That's always a dead giveaway I've found one.

Stupid desert.