Now I Got Those Cigarettes

I'm not gonna lie...I'm fairly intoxicated. Therefore, I'm going to hope this isn't hilarious to me in a way that is not something to be proud of tomorrow.
We went to see Grindhouse today, which is Arbeau and I's second viewing, and Jeremy and Kelly's fourth. Shit, I hope that doesn't make Arbeau and I seem like a couple. Anyway, the important thing is that Grindhouse is the greatest movie-going experience of my entire life, and everyone who doesn't see it in theaters and proceed to purchase both movies (separately, of course) should be fucking mortified. Anyway, generally it was a decent flick. Fuck, dawg... fo' realz.
Anyway, the usual effect of a film of this caliber forces me to act like I'm in a very well scripted film, about cool dudes who read Sartre and Hemingway, and talk about rap music non-stop. It would probably be an awesome movie. Kevin Smith could probably direct most of it. Although I would then need Tarantino to direct the scene where I murder several hippies with a torch and a large, impressive-looking knife. It would actually be an excellent pairing, I think. It would definitely need my final verdict on the script, though, because I'd have to be like, "Listen, dude (Smith), I was kinda thinking a lot less dick and butt jokes, and a lot more references to Nietzsche and Dawson's Creek... you know."
I'm working on a new short story for the first time in several months, and I'm hoping it will be my 'return to form!' Also, I'm writing songs that are obviously tribute to Doherty, but only really obvious to Arbeau, who knows that I'll do that type shit before it happens.
Speaking of my amazing music, PaulC's radio show on 92.5 CFMH will be spinning my shit again tomorrow night at 6. I'm trying to convince him to bring me so I can be on the show, which would be radically awesome. In either case I think he'll play 'Now I Got Those Cigarettes,' which I will be promoting as my lead single.
In closing, I would like to point out that I fucking hate when people use a paragraph starting this way to end something they mysteriously consider a piece of writing.