I saw two movies this weekend: One was a really lame ass movie that wasn't even funny and the other was a spectacular one I'd recommend to anyone. The lame one was Scary Movie. The spectacular one was The Patriot.

I have been rollerblading on the beach from Venice Beach to Pacific Palisades and back at least twice a week for the past three weeks.

I have been counting the number of hotties rolling past me on the strand. That's at least 15 on average per day.

I have been counting the number of men who pay me a nice compliment or check me out. My count up to date per day is on average, 17.

I have been reading a great book. Yes, only one.

I have been going out with my new buddy. He is cool. The number of times I've seen him per week for the past three weeks on average? That's 2-3. AND, no I'm not fucking him. I've decided not let anyone kiss me for at least a month after meeting them for fear of disappointment in the future.

I have a confession: I dug out a porno an ex left for me years ago and watched it once last week. I have not had #@! for god knows how long...I've lost count of the days.

My right forearm feels sore and a bit tingly. AND, no it's not because I've been trying to satisfy myself.

My right hand feels cold. For how long now? Just the past hour or so.

Could an infection from yesterday's wound to my right palm be the cause of this strange sensation?

God, I hope not. Please, I don't need to visit the emergency room. No, not right now. I'm too busy.

I have been driving around like a lost dog on the streets looking for a new place to live. The number of apartments I've been checking out on a weekly basis is 12. The number of hours I've spent driving around looking for places to live is around 30. I've lost count of the number of miles I've driven. My car is out of oil and gas.

I hate looking for a place to live in LA. There's nothing good that's worth paying rent for around this area. I saw the most beautiful apartment yesterday. I fell in love at first sight. The building was old, yet the entire place had been remodeled. The floors were lined with this beautiful, glossy, wood. Not dark-stained wood, but of this gorgeous light wood. The walls were crisp and white. All of the appliances in the kitchen were new and there was even a radio playing some classical music. The works. How much did it cost per month? $1875. I nearly fainted, but I was not surprised. My heart was broken and I reluctantly left the place in great sadness.

My treat to cure my broken heart? Two cheeseburgers for 78 cents from McDonalds. I've decided to save money and eat McDonalds on Sundays and Wednesdays. On Wednesays, hamburgers are only 29 cents! Whoohoo!