Saturday Night Thoughts:

1) Sunset Place on a Saturday Night is the embodiment of absolutely everything I hate about Miami. I would rather...I'm trying to think of someone gross I would rather blow than go there...but...I'm having a really hard time...

Well, someone gross, anyway. But not like, a Bum. Someone like...Willard..ew. Not him either.

I'd rather undergo a mildly inconvenient, yet ultimately resolvable scenario than go to Sunset Place on a Friday or Saturday night.

Parents: You have a thirteen year old child. If that thirteen year old child is HANGING OUT AT A MALL AT 12:30 AM, YOU ARE A BAD PARENT. I know you're probably working the late shift in a Spoon Factory or something, but like... your kids are out too late. And don't get me STARTED on the parents with TODDLERS THERE. DO NOT TAKE A TWO-YEAR OLD TO THE 10:20 PM SCREENING OF TALLADEGA NIGHTS, THE LEGEND OF RICKY BOBBY. THAT MAKES YOU A BAD PARENT. CAN'T GET A BABYSITTER?! STAY HOME. DON'T SEE THE MOVIE. Granted, your children didn't cry, but -- THEY NEED SLEEP! And NOT the type of sleep that is had in a movie about NASCAR RACING.

Bottom line? Sunset Place is filled with trashy ghetto kids, ranging from 11 and 12 through... like maybe seventeen? And trashy ghetto people. Some chick in line for Ten-Dollar popcorn almost headbutted me, by accident. We don't behave in public like that.

Wait.

What am I talking about?

Oh, yeah.

Also: The movie, Talladega Nights, was... Horrible.

But I always have a lovely time when I hang out with La Mer. I always have a wonderful time with her. I'm always redundant too. Mer and I made our own fun, regardless of being the only non-trash there. Except for the guy and his extremely pregnant wife, who, I decided left the movie early, because she was going into labor.

Is that something that people see in their lives? Like some chick's water breaking in the mall? These unforeseeable life events, I don't ever see them. I've never seen anyone drop dead in a restaurant, or have an epillepsy fit. I'm not saying I want to see these things, but people have strokes and heart attacks, and drop on the ground seizing, all the time - and I've never seen ANYONE do it.

To reiterate: I don't WANT to see these things happening, and I'm grateful I never have, but it's like when it comes to seeing things, celebrity sightings, or, oh, tragedy, I'm ALWAYS in the WRONG PLACE AT THE WRONG TIME for it. See, for example, a bunch of my friends at Gordon Biersch, last night, sitting next to my ARCH-NEMESIS, ANN COULTER!

Probably time to end the blog now. Michael R., I know what you're about to say, and don't say it. Same for you, Sara M. Same for you, Jessica C. I can use your names and initials, because your names are SO UBIQUITOUS that no one can ever trace them back to you.

Not like my name, Ayelwycst Cymyrcraich.

Yup. I, Ayelwycst Ffrcyeidlmwrch Cymyrcraich, with my Welsh/Gaelic/Middle-English-looking name step forth, from my curtain of anonymity!

But you couldn't be like "Hey, Ayelwycst C., don't say anything!"

Because then people would know you were giving me a shoutout. Lauren M., (I love you very much!) is the sort of a name where there could be zillions of Lauren M's. Not Ayelwycst C.

How did I get to this tangent?

Okay. Definitely time for bed.