I'd like to think the best of me is still hiding up my sleeve

I'd like to think the best of me is still hiding up my sleeve

I just watched "You've Got Mail" and now I feel like I need to chop wood or read my dad's car magazines or something to regain the masculinity that I never had.  I love romance, sure, but oh my God.  You have to draw the line somewhere.  I mean, I was so annoyed with Meg Ryan's character that I actually started to like Tom Hanks.  And I hate Tom Hanks.  That man is responsible for the tragedy that is the film version of "The Polar Express."

Also in the past two days I've watched the first two Bourne movies, "Spy Game", "Mr. and Mrs. Smith", and "Catch Me If You Can."  I've been avoiding "The OC".  I think I just don't want it to end, because I know how much I'm going to cry when it finally does - even though it's not really over, it's never really over, because I have every single episode on dvd in a big giant plastic-and-cardboard box.

So now I'm past the point where summer feels like it's going to go on forever, and I'm at the point where there are three weeks of summer left and I have yet to make significant progress on either of my summer assignments.  But I'm not yet at the point where I need to start stressing about them - and I'll get them done.  I always do.    

But in the meantime my sister and I will continue to watch spy movies that turn out not to be spy movies (*cough*Mr. and Mrs. Smith*cough*) and I will continue to make faces at her, knowing full well that she can't laugh because it hurts her swollen mouth too much.  Poor baby, such pain, and her wisdom's gone as well.  At least you only have to go through that once - unlike the end of summer, which happens, without fault, every single year.