What I really really want

This is the fourth time I've started this blog entry because I have nothing to say, nothing! I'm hyper and in a good mood, but every story I start runs itself into a festering pit of boring despair. I was going to talk about how I learned some Latvian today. Then I was going to talk about the Borat movie and how excited I am. Then I was going to ask everyone if that the only reason I'm seeing Happy Feet on opening night is to catch the Harry Potter trailer makes me a huge dork. But it never started right and all I did was sound like a boring, stupid, pitiful loser with no personality and a weird mole on my face and maybe some hideous skin affliction where I'm not allowed to go out in the sun.

And that's not who I am at all.

So I'm thinking of making up a story about the fabulous evening I had last night where I met, I dunno, Julia Stiles and Mark McGrath or something and then went to a new club that only lets you in if you're famous but I got in and then I got cast in the next Superman movie as Lois Lane's intelligent yet superficial gay nephew intern. And Kevin Spacey didn't hit on me. Because that would be a cooler night than you had.

But I respect you too much to lie to you.

So I'm not going to say anything today and instead wait until tomorrow after I've had my fabulous date with Johnny Depp and David Beckham shows up so they can fight over me, and while they're duking it out, I become best friends with their wives and then become the 6th Spice Girl. Because that's what I'm doing tonight.