My boyfriend and I saw 'From Justin to Kelly' this weekend. To our dismay, $19 and 90 minutes could have been saved by alternatively driving back to the apartment and placing our hands over an ignited stovetop. This would have served to condense the pain of enduring tedious musical numbers, laughable plot lines, and unspeakably bad acting, into a manageable two-minute period.

In other words, 'From Justin to Kelly' made 'Crossroads' seem like 'The Shawshank Redemption'. (If anyone gets this reference, leave a comment.)

I'd like to expand this topic into a 500-word entry, but that must wait until after my lunch break. In the meantime, I'll mindlessly draft a bunch of case studies as I think about my boy, miss him, and wonder what life was like before such an amazing person had entered my life.