I'm better now.. this is a new week, a week where I will find a job and be happy with life in general, yes indeed. It should be good times. Hopefully. I dunno.

Matt replied to the email I sent him this morning.. he didn't really respond to my crackwhoreness.. he just said "I know you want me to comment on the emotional stuff, but I'm just going to say that I read it and I hope you feel better" or something like that. And he also said that yes, he remembered when we went to Wrestlemania together, and.. this is an exact quote.. "Maybe someday we'll go again." Uh huh. Maybe someday we'll go to Wrestlemania together. Right.

What the fuck?

Anyway.. tonight I've made the decision to spend the night at my brother's. I feel good about this decision. We're going to watch Six Feet Under and Death Becomes Her. And then I will fall asleep on the sofa, which I will share with a large golden puppydog.

If that's not good times, I don't know what is.

Sign it or I'm just going to have to cry.

We saw the Hours tonight. For my 2nd time seeing this movie, it didn't depress me. You know why? Because I knew how all three of those women felt. I had empathy. I knew what they were feeling. And that's just not good.

I know I probably need a doctor... preliminary plans are being made to do this. I just grew up in a family that really frowned upon such things, so it's kinda like I'm giving up and admitting I'm a crazy woman by going. I know that's not how it is, but there ya go.

Booya.