When I can find a box of Frosted Flakes almost as big as my PC tower, I have found a new favorite store.

Today is a day where lovers meet to exchange gifts and, just as often, apologies. For those perfect lovers, however, this can be a most glorious day. I decided to spend all of today with my most precious love of all: myself. I even got myself one of the greatest Valentine's Day gifts a lover can ever get, a blu-ray copy of Underworld. Ah, 'tis a most glorious day.

I'm not feeling creative today, so I thought I would just post a little bit of what I do in classes. This is a returned homework paper, with some additions of my own from during lecture. Click it to enlarge it. I don't know why, but I was on a Beatles fix that evening.

"We don't like their sound. Groups of guitars are on the way out." - Decca Records, regarding The Beatles

Hey friends, this is your pal Jimbo here with a product that you absolutely need to have if you consider yourself a man! Let me tell you, when I’m not pounding out countless reps in my home gym or killing a deer for dinner with my bare hands, I like to keep my skin clean, clear, and blemish free. That’s why I use Malheursa. It is the only stuff I know that keeps my skin moist yet still doesn’t make me smell all flowery and girly. The last thing I want when I’m outside a bar moving semi-trucks with my teeth is to reek of lavender or French vanilla. Malheursa comes in far burlier scents, like turpentine, barbeque sauce, and used motor oil. If you value your body, and what man doesn’t, then you simply cannot pass this product up.

(Possible side effects include diarrhea, constipation, constipated diarrhea, rashes, bruises, systemic lupus erythematosus, labored breathing, and sudden appreciation of Air Supply)

“When women are depressed, they eat or go shopping. Men invade another country. It's a whole different way of thinking.” – Elayne Boosler

Ow, my head. What the blazes was that that hit me? And how did I get here? I was crossing the street, I heard a honk, then...
You died, son.
Wha? Morgan Freeman?
Is that how you see me? Well, I have been called many things. Saint Peter, Osiris, a valkyrie, and even a flying spaghetti monster. I'll admit, even Morgan Freeman a few times too.
Wait a minute, am I dead? Did I get hit by a car or something?
Well, you are dead, son, but not necessarily by a car. Somebody mistook you for another guy and had you shot. It was all a misunderstanding, but considering the circumstances, that all shouldn't really matter.
I suppose not. Hmm... this is awkward. All this time I've been an atheist and it turns out there is an afterlife. Strange, I figured it would've been a little... nicer. This looks like a cheap studio apartment. And why are all the blinds closed. Let's get some light in-
I wouldn't open those blinds if I were you.
To be fair, you didn't know who you were until I told you, so I'm opening them. See? Nothing to worry about. Well, sort of. It's just a hole. There's nothing... literally nothing there.
That's because you don't believe in all this crap. Beyond this room is supposed to be your vision of the afterlife. Since you never believed in this stuff, nothing would appear.
So what's the point of this whole apartment thing? Am I supposed to be punished for my disbelief?
Oh heavens no, son. What is there to punish? You led a great life, and that's all any of us care about.
"Us"?
Yes, there are lots of us spiritual beings that all make up the world's gods. We don't really do much for the world; we just like observing what you do. We occasionally give a little prod here and there to liven things up, but it's all in good sport.
Well, I had those assumptions every now and again. Anyway, back to the question at hand. What's the deal with the apartment?
You don't get it yet? We're just waiting for you to make up your mind. This is your afterlife, you make of it what you will. You can reincarnate back on Earth. You can drift around the planet in a temporal state and spy on people, which is what we pretty much do. You can spend all your time outside this room making a world that you like. Want power? Telekinesis? A harem? If you feel like you've led a poor life, you can even make a Hell for yourself, if that's your fancy. The afterlife is your canvas.
Hmm... I like the idea of being a god. I think I shall begin by building a world for myself. How much time do I have before this all ends?
This is the afterlife, son. I fear you only have an eternity.
Just enough time to demand an eternity's worth of virgin sacrifices from my world's inhabitants. I'm thinking of a world that rains soda water. Too farfetched?
Now you're catching on.
See you again in an eternity, Mr. Freeman.

"Death opens unknown doors. It is most grand to die." - John Masefield

Look people, it's a very simple concept. In a multilane road, the left lane is the fast lane. If you are driving at a speed slower than the cars in the right lane, then we have a serious problem in the fabric of space and time. If you are not driving as fast as or faster than I am, then I will tailgate you mercilessly until you either speed up to an acceptable speed or pull into the right lane. As a misanthrope, I can assure you that that "baby on board" sticker will do nothing to deter me. In fact, it may even enrage me further. If you do get out of my way, I would be of the mind to chuck a box of condoms into your open window as I drive by (I keep several boxes in my glove box for... emergencies). Ditto for those Jesus fish emblems. If Jesus is your co-pilot, then you need to change your religion or stop listening to backseat drivers. So what if I won't get to my destination any significant amount sooner? The point is that if I speed, I have a higher probability of making it through a light just as it turns yellow, thus allowing me to increase my lead in front of the cars that were behind me.

"Move bitch, get out the way." - Ludacris

I went to see the new movie Coraline (or, as Word likes to tell me, Caroline) yesterday, and let me say from the start that the film is made of pure win. Wait, I read that wrong. I meant to say that it was made in stop-motion animation. Well, synonyms will be synonyms, I suppose. Anyway, the movie itself was an unexpected treat. It actually used its 3D effects to great… effect. The glasses-on-glasses look was very posh. The only problem I had with them was when it tried to “reach out” towards you. I have yet to see a 3D movie pull this off well, and Coraline had done no better. It seemed to make the attempt at regular intervals during the film, making it feel gimmicky.

The plot was entertaining and kept me guessing until the end, which is very unusual. I’m so used to movies following predictable paths that having one get the jump on me caused feelings of hesitation for the first time. It’s especially scary when you consider this is a PG movie (further evidence that maturity has failed). Movies just don’t use the parallel world mechanic as much as they should. The only nick in the peerless plot is the awkward fetch quest that arises near the climax. It made me question whether I was watching a movie or a really long introduction cinematic for a video game. “Go back to all the worlds that ye hath visited and fetch me three shiny trinkets.”

The characters were likable enough. Coraline was absolutely adorable, and I would’ve connected with her adventurous and caring personality if I wasn’t a housebound, uncaring misanthrope. They also had a talking Cheshire cat-like… erm, cat (feline!), who was definitely my favorite character. To make things better, he was voiced by the same guy who narrated Princess Mononoke. Frankly, he should’ve used that voice when acting the cat, but that can be true for a lot of characters. The movie makers decided to go the Calvin & Hobbes route when it came to parent development, i.e. there was none. Mind, I’m not complaining. It’s too often that directors try to attach character development where it isn’t welcome.

All in all, the film was quite good and I do recommend it. It earns every bit of the 8.999999/10.23 that I’m giving it. The only reason it isn’t scoring higher is because it made me use the word "posh" in one of my reviews, which is unforgivable.

“Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds.” – Neil Gaiman

I could listen to this guy talk all day...

I tell ya buddy, this may be Heaven, but it isn’t the perfect place I was expecting. Look at the both of us here, nursing our drinks. I don’t even know why they need a dive bar here. Welp, I don’t know about this bar itself, but I know why I’m here. I’m a married man, I’ll have you know. Happily married. Least, I was some time ago. I married my first wife early on, and let me tell ya she was the love of my life. We spent a lot a time together. Then one day, outta the blue, bam, she gets hit by a bus and dies. Oh, the sadness I felt, my friend. Anyway, we were good folks, so I had no doubts she was in Heaven. Life moves on, and I figured my lady wouldn’t want me wallowing in my own sadness. She’d want me to move on. I started dating again, remarried, all that jazz. Oh, happy days returned, friend, but I knew I would never be as happy with this fine lass as I was with my first love. Welp, long story short, we were killed in a bank hostage shooting; she went first first, me second. Pain beyond pain, friend, but I readily met up with Saint Peter. And here’s the kicker, and pretty much the reason I’m here taking down another heavenly whiskey. He asked me, heh heh. He asked me if I wanted to stay through eternity with my first wife who waited for me, or with my second wife. I guess it was a bit cruel to Cindy, my second wife, sorry, but I had to go back to my first wife. Big mistake, friend. Big mistake. Remember when I told you how I figured she’d want me to move on? Turns out I was dead wrong. Heh, dead wrong. Here it is, four centuries later, and she’s still pissed that I didn’t stay loyal and married Cindy, or ‘the hussy’ as she likes to call her. I can’t believe they call this place Heaven when you can’t even kill your wife to shut her up. I actually tried that, mind you. ‘Bout six centuries of nagging just made me snap. Well, let me just say that that attempt scared away the bluebird of happiness for good. Oi bartender, let me get another whiskey on the rocks here. Ugh, already over five-thousand of these and I still can’t reach that blissful haze. I hate this place.

“I don't believe in an afterlife, although I am bringing a change of underwear.” – Woody Allen

You see, I was driving down the road when all of a sudden Free Bird came on the radio. I'm sure you know how it is when you hear Free Bird. Some area in the animal part of your brain kicks on and you are required to sing at the top of your lungs. 'If I leeeeeave here tomorooooow." Then, of course, comes the vocal cord shredding guitar rape tacked on to the song's tail, which you are required to play air guitar to even when driving down the road. You're flailing your OK hand gesture on the stick shift as if playing to the song all the while trying to mimic with your voice. Sometimes, if I'm feeling frisky, I'll even go in so far as to pretend I know all the chords with my steering wheel. It's all very mentally consuming. And that, officer, is why I was going twenty-five over the speed limit.

... He let me off with a warning.

"Fuck tha police!" - N.W.A.