I'm not a critic, but I'll review it because I feel like my opinion is valid.
In a nutshell, Aron Ralston was a dick and decided to go chill in Blue John Canyon by himself without telling anyone where the hell he was going.
He falls in a hole, gets his arm stuck to a boulder, and is forced to decide whether he should sit there and wait to die or do something about his problem.
So he cuts his arm off.
It's truly an inspiring story.
If I were ever in that position, I would have knocked my head against the boulder repeatedly in order to cause enough brain damage and eventually kill myself.
Who the hell even cuts their own arm off?
I cry when I stub my toe.
However, Aron Ralston is a badass motherfucker and continues to climb mountains and do all that athletic stuff I don't do because I am lazy and I don't have a life.
You should watch the movie.
Just do it.
Here's the trailer because I'm generous.
Sometimes I sit here on my bed and watch porn.
I think after a few thousand clicks you get bored of actually watching porn for pleasure and end up just watching to see who the person is behind the large throbbing black penis.
Who are the men behind the cameras?
Why does her vagina resemble an elephant ear?
Why are we not listening to Queen instead of elevator music?
These are important questions I want answered.
Feel free to answer these along with your thoughts on the porn industry and their choice of terrible music.
I'm really bad at updating these things.
However, I'm more than ready to keep you up to date with my exciting life!
There are no sarcastic undertones in this entire blog post whatsoever.
Anyway, today I think I fell in love.
Or my vagina did.
Normally, I would find it awkward to blog about my vagina, especially when I dedicated three entire blogs to it and realized posts such as "I bled today" and "I am lonely" were not follower worthy.
However, it fell in love with this man named Patrick.
He looks like Ash Stymest except more homosexual and I like it.
If I were not the more socially inept version of Liz Lemon, then I'd probably pursue this Patrick character.
My life is hard and I blog about important things.
I am not kidding.
Today I was shopping for Spring clothes at a mall in New Jersey.
I shop in stores like PacSun and Forever 21 because I dress like an annoying hipster to piss everyone off.
Also the clothes are nice and they have nice fitting jeans.
In Pacsun, I grab a pair of skinny jeans in size 3, which is my usual size, and go to the fitting room to try them on.
They did fit, but they didn't look too good on me.
I guess I have been eating too many tacos at Chipotle but I CAN CLOG MY ARTERIES IF I WANT TO.
A young black lady working at the fitting room took a look at me and said, "Hmph, well, it's time to go a size up, young lady. Gotta start counting those calories. I know it's hard, but I know from experience."
Now, I can't say I don't love women with lovely lady lumps. I can't say that at all because that is probably me in the next ten years.
However if you're packing some junk in that trunk of yours, you have no right to tell me to count my calories.
It feels like I've been hit in the head by the angry fist of God.
He is clearly mad that I've ditched the Almighty church for a good day's sleep and porn.
Except I don't even like porn.
I'd much rather watch someone shove their angry fist up someone's orifice than sit through 45 minutes of Jesus preaching.
My choices in life make me happy.
I think it's a good day altogether when one of your favorite team wins.
Except you haven't seen the outside world since Monday and it's currently Wednesday and the sight of light makes you want to cringe.
I have successfully done nothing today.
Except watch the Real Madrid game which was excellent except for the fact that Yoann Gourcuff can't keep his fairy self from flying and it ended with a draw.
Benzema did a fucking fantastic job of scoring 40 seconds after walking onto the pitch.
I love my fellow legends.
Despite me being a dick 99% of the time, I actually have a heart and found myself reading up on the Libyan protests.
It pains my little black heart to see people dying for their freedom.
I mean, I'm sitting on a comfy ass bed and drinking good tea.
As I watched Anderson Cooper explain the events occurring in Libya, instead of fighting the urge to fap furiously to the sight of that fine silver haired fox, I wrote a lengthy e-mail to my state senator and to the White House.
I'm being productive and I like it.
I'm all for peace, man.
I think as you get older you realize how many assholes dwell upon your every negative emotion.
As if people are sitting on my lawn with a bag of popcorn waiting for me to open a bottle of whiskey and drink myself to liver damage and eventual death.
It would almost be a blessing to be a whore and release my anger on idiots who think with their penis and come off as being only sexually frustrated instead of just god damned angry.
However being sexually frustrated is only a minor problem.
Goddammit, why can't I just stay home and paint and watch the soccer and eat Taco Bell all day?