Frank has broken his arm. And he blames me. And i would feel guilty but I didn't do anything. Honest. I might have put his big heavy encyclopedic like books on god knows what on a very high shelf causing him to stretch up to get them and in some freak accident like way, cause the breakage(that isn't a word is it?) of his arm. Now he says I have to be his slave. It's that being responsible for someone's life if you save them thing reversed kinda. Ok, it's nothing like that but how can he blame me because he's a little weak pussy. i mean I managed to put the books up there. It's his fault anyway because he told me to clear up because he was fed up with stuff lying around everywhere. I took him to hospital in a taxi( a taxi! luxury! So good to be in a taxi instead of a ratty bus) and the whole time we were there he refused to talk to me. He's so petulant. Such a kid at times.
So at home later, unhappy about having to be Frank's slave, i managed to come to an agreement with him that I would pay for a night out at the flicks to see Kill Bill Volume two, which was a rubbish exchange really because we are both mega Tarantino fans and it wasn't much skin off my nose. Except for when he insisted I buy him a super size sweet popcorn and mega nachoes, when he likes neither of them. He spent the whole of the trailers flicking the popcorn at me and complaining about how much nachoes suck. Great. It was cool though because once the movie began he shut up, stopped throwing the popcorn and was totally engrossed in the genius that is Tarantino. The movie was amazing and in my opinion better than the first. I won't go on and on about all the ins and outs like I know everything about Tarantino, as it is annoying. Frank does it. He was an extra in a really crappy, straight to TV movie and he thinks he knows everything about the movie making business He goes on about camera angles and runners and the guys behind the scenes which is interesting and fun to hear about the first time but like most things, it gets old fast.
Ryan is going on vacation he tells me. He tells me that I am coming too on this little vacation but he hasn't said when we are leaving, how we are getting there or where we are even going. Most importantly he hasn't mentioned who is paying for this little "vacation" because I certainly can't afford it and I doubt I can get the time off work. Why's he got to always be so secretive and enigmatic about things? He never tells it straight and that's what I like. Black and white. No grey areas. Just lay it down on the table for me to see. I gotta go. I know I hardly ever update this but it's only because I'm either working, being lazy or nothing worth writing down is happening. Bye.
-Scarlett