Oooh, THIS one got 4 stars...

Stupid Netflix.

Y'see, after the demon-children nestle into their corresponding pink and blue bedrooms at night, I WOULD be composing blogs and updating photos and mp3s on my site if it weren't for this retarded movie addiction my husband and I have developed. And like most advanced addictions, it's not even satisfying anymore. I've been whining for a year now about how America is waaaaaaaaaay overdue for a renaissance in practically all forms of entertainment, yet night after night we grab a beer and continue to support the artless by watching another 2-hour rented disappointment.

And we have seen everything, with the exception of the Horror genre (no sawing of entrails for me, danke)... All the new releases (without J-Lo or Keanu)... All levels of comedy (from Buster Keaton to Dane Egomaniac-Cook).... Romances, dramas, and now box-set TV serieseseses. We've even extended ourselves into the foreign, indie and documentaries -- begrudgingly, for me.

I don't even WANT to watch any more movies, but as soon as I return one I feel compelled to search for the next one with renewed hope.

My name is Liesel Donaldson, and I'm a movie addict. This is all your fault, Netflix. And stop smirking.