There are two girls fighting over a guy in my courtyard right now

And as I write this, I can hear such clever lines such as "you fat fucking cunt" and "you know what's funny, he had to use Viagra with you EVERY SINGLE TIME." Ope, now they're apparently pulling each other's hair, as I can hear the moderating male telling them to let go of each other. Class act, ladies.

Anyway, in regards to Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson, not my cup of ether...and truth be told, I'm not even sure what this book is about besides being hopped up on drugs. How did they make a movie out of this? There is no plot. Not to say that I have a problem with that, as I definitely have an affinity in my short story writing to create scenes without action...but there was nothing to be learned in these 204 pages. 
I was constantly being built up (briefly, mind you), and then let down over and over again until I became utterly confused about what the whole point of any of this was, while also neglecting to care at all about anybody. Especially the attorney. Hate him.

The edition lent to me included illustrations by Ralph Steadman (which apparently originally appeared alongside the story in Rolling Stone's 1971 issues 95 and 96, so I assume most all copies would include them). I found them REALLY REALLY offputting. I mean, I understand why crude and psychotic drawings would be relative to a narrative like this, but in this case I didn't find it to add anything beneficial to the text at all. In fact, they kind of annoyed me to see those pictures after having made my own mental image of the scenes and then having them contrasted to dirty images of frog people.

In news regarding my reading progress, I was not aware that Colleen (the giver of books) is moving NEXT MONTH. Which means I have nine books to read in like, six weeks. Yeah right. Not happening. Which is sad, but, NOT AS SAD AS THE FACT THAT I WILL HAVE ZERO FRIENDS LEFT. Depress.
Speaking of Colleen though, I went out with her tonight to go see Moonrise Kingdom which was freaking adorable. Classy little children and precious adults. Hearts in my heart <3 <3 <3. And that house, and that beach. geeze. Jealous! Want it. I wish my life were a Wes Anderson film, like every other hipster on this planet. Who are you, Juman? I want to be you.