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Ahahahaha, I got a link from iamshadow this morning who informs me that I win the bet with R about Joaquin Phoenix's terrible life.

I love it when I get to use the oh snap vindicated tag.

Fortunately I'm going over to R's place tonight for Wheel, if he manages to wake up in time for it, and we can have a film fest of all the video clips and interviews and wallow in the sheer hilarity of Casey Affleck and Joaquin Phoenix Trying To Make Ahrt.

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I went "birthday shopping" online this morning, something I've been meaning to do for a while. When did these things become such a chore? But really I had a hard time coming up with stuff I wanted when Mum asked me, so it's been a bit of a struggle (Christmas is going to be equally irritating). Part of it is that the few things I do want are on the expensive side. It's not so much that I'm That Guy as because I'm really tough on my belongings and they need to be durable, so I generally know the brands that will survive my abuse, and durable usually = expensive.

But I ended up sending her links to some messenger bags and some various kinds of snowboot -- I don't want new snow boots, I like my snow boots, but the lining's gone completely and I'm not sure I can get them re-lined. I mean, there's nothing else I really want or need right now that's reasonable to ask for as a gift; I don't really watch DVDs, I have all the books I want plus a drawer of them I haven't read yet, I lack nothing in the kitchen utensils department, a couch is too expensive, and they still don't make a Roranicus action figure.

Incidentally, what the hell is up with no Rory action figures? They have action figures of the skin trampoline from the Ninth Doctor, they have the Winders from The Beast Below, why no goddamn Rory? How hard can it be?

Dear birthday fairy, for my birthday I would like a Roranicus action figure and the ability to travel in time. Sincerely, Sam Starbuck, almost 31 years old.

All my aspirations are either immature or against the laws of physics. It's enough to make a grown man despair, it really is.

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Sam: You want some ketchup?
R: No, I like my fries how I like my women.
Sam: ...salty?
R: Hot and straight.

Tonight I was declared a Wheel of Fortune Master.

Being a Wheel of Fortune Master isn't just about solving puzzles. It's about...the impossible solve. Solving a puzzle with no letters on the board. R's done this a few times -- I haven't witnessed it, but I have Porkchop's word it happened, as much as you can trust the word of someone named after a cut of meat -- and tonight, for the first time, I achieved it. I saw:

FILM
[] [] [] [] []
[] []
[] [] []
[] [] [] [] [] []

And I said, "Clash of the Titans. I mean, it fits."

And R said, "What are the chances?"

And then the contestant called a T, and I wish you could have seen the looks on our faces. We spent the whole round talking about what an awesome solve that was. I feel like I've been accepted into some sort of brotherhood. There might be secret handshakes involved. R assured me I would never forget this day, and I suspect he may be right.

And then somehow the conversation drifted into an analysis of the word Poop (long story, rhymes with Oops, which is what R is planning on calling his firstborn). And R bestowed upon me this jewel of wisdom:

"Poops is a funnier word than Poop. No, quantifiably. Because it's a more active verb."

My life: sexually charged french fries, Wheel of Fortune, and active verbs.