So I finally got around to watching the director's cut of Watchmen. OH! Oh Rorschach! Oh Super-Raoul! Oh everyone! It was totally worth paying the ridiculously inflated price for the blu-ray simply for that bit where Dan beats the shit out of that dude in the pub and Rorschach - Rorschach! - has to tell him to calm the fuck down, and he's like, "Daniel! Not in front of the civilians!" OH MY GOD. I am in love with this movie all over again, but in a slightly less Daddy Winchester-focused direction.

Sadly, they did not include that hilarious bit in the comic where Rorschach tries to make Dan feel better about dead!Hollis Mason* by suggesting they just carry on with their investigation because then they can catch the person who started all the hysteria that led to Hollis' death, and Dan's like, "Who in their right mind would be comforted by... oh... I mean, thanks."

Also, I love Bill and Ted. I love Constantine too. This is kind of spilling over into reviving the crush my ten-year-old self had on Keanu Reeves, which is painful because it makes me want to watch other stuff that Keanu Reeves has done, and then I am reminded that he sucks and I feel inexplicably betrayed, like somehow he led me on by being in these three movies that I love.

My relationship with Keanu Reeves is very complicated.

*Dudes, I am totally not cutting that for spoilers, so don't even bother to ask me. It's a twenty-year-old comic, stop crying.

Have just finished watching Angels in America, and my word, it was strange. Doesn't really help that my brain persists in thinking of Patrick Wilson as Raoul, and giggling quietly to itself at the image of Raoul as a slightly dopey but very adorable Republican Mormon. 'Cause seriously, did anyone else just want to pinch his cheeks and give him cookies? "Buddy kiss", aww! You go, tiny gay Republican!

Oh, and also? "I live with my parents" is going to give me hysterics for a very, very long time to come.

Those of you who are familiar with Escaflowne: Zaibach Strikes Back Stargate: Atlantis should all go here and download the most awesome music video known to man. Boy, those Wraith sure do love Pointy. For my part, although Bob definatly has the rugged bad-boy vibe down, with his dreads and manly strut and facial tattoos, Steve is the one I'd bring home to meet my parents. You know, if I didn't think he'd eat them.

The new Battlestar Galactica makes me sad. Mostly, I suspect, because I want Apollo to be some kind of Ickle Midshipman Archie In Space, and instead he's just some whiny whiner guy who happens to look like Ickle Midshipman Archie but with muscles and non-cute hair. And no Welsh Bloke to slash it up with.

In other news, went to see Dukes of Hazzard last week. It was very enjoyable (though Stifler!Bo is not a patch on real!Bo, and Sean Williams-Scott annoys me by having eyebrows that don't match his hair), but they showed the Serenity trailer right before it and so was overshadowed by OMFG SERENITY TRAILER SQUEE! Space! Pirate-cowboys! Indecently tight pants! Jayne! Waistcoats! Jayne! Vera! Jayne! Ninjas! Jayne! And did I mention... Jayne! I do love me some Jayne.

Also, the 40 Year Old Virgin looks to be the lamest film since... some other lame film that I made fun of but have forgotten about. Seriously, if I wanted to see a film about a middle aged guy who can't get any tail, I'd go and watch Phantom of the Opera again.

I take this opportunity to inform you of a matter of gravest importance to you and your loved ones:

That Star Wars Lego game for the Playstation 2? Rocks. I don't think I will ever get tired of making Darth Vader and Whinykin fight each other, or hearing that weird little orgasmic noise Padawan!Obi makes when you hit him with a lightsabre. And the moustaches? They make my life complete. From now on, whenever I watch Star Wars, I shall imagine the characters carrying mops and wearing big fake Groucho Marx lip-ferrets.

In slightly related news, every time I hear the words "I am your father", or variations on that theme, I imagine them being said in the Vadervoice. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but I swear, there are so many characters with daddy issues in Smallville, Christine Daae could visit her father's grave in nothing but lace-top stockings and a bustier and feel completely normal. Except she does that already, so... never mind. And it's not that I don't get a good laugh out of imagining Lex going "Nooooooooooooooo!" and having his hand cut off and falling into a bottomless drive-shaft (and it's doubly funny when it's Lana) and then being rescued by Lando Calrissian and having adventures and... what was I saying? Oh, never mind.

And HAH! Clark's dad is a spaceship. It is entirely possible that that will never stop being funny.

Spent the past few days packing. How in the name of all that is good have I got fifteen boxes of books? I think they're breeding behind my back.

Today was a fun day. Jess came over and we made cupcakes and flapjacks, and when Alan's lectures finished we went for a picnic and took Thlayli with us. Much enjoyment watching him running around enjoying the wonderful outdoors. I had him on a harness with the leash around my wrist, but he kept running around me and getting me tangled up in it, so in the end I tied it to the laces of one of my Doc Martens. Which Thlayli then managed to drag about two hundred yards up a hill, with Jess and I chasing him. We did get one group of girls who came up and asked me if he was a dog. I was like, "Yes, he's a dog. A really tiny, long eared, twitchy-nosed dog with huge hind paws and an odd lolloping run. In fact, he's a Rabbidoodle. One of those new designer breeds that's very popular in Europe just now." Idiots. Then we had cheesecake and sausage rolls and shandy lemonades, except for Thalyli who had carrots and water, and he jumped up on my lap and went to sleep. It was very cute.

Spent the rest of the afternoon and evening curled up reading "The Thief Lord", which I think may have beaten out Inkheart as my favourite Cornelia Funke book. I've never been to Venice, but just reading some of those scenes I could almost hear the cry of the gondoliers, smell the canals, feel the chill of snowflakes falling outside. It's a truly amazing book, which I recomend to anyone in the whole world ever.

And conversely, on the subject of things that should never, under any circumstances be recomended to anyone, ( The Sequel of DOOM is now up )

Oh yes. Special level of Hell, here I come.

I have succeeded in my epic quest to clean Darth Bathroom before I move out next month. Go me! Now all that remains is Darth Kitchen. And the bedrooms. And the entrance hall and corridor and the pantry... oh God, I'm going to die. And then I have to pack.

I. Hate. Moving.

In other news, have been curled up watching POTO this evening, eating pizza and mocking Raoul. Poor Raoul. I love that scene after Buquet is killed where Madame Giry is explaining Erik's past to him, and she's like, "He's a genius. A genius, monsieur!" and Raoul gets this really earnest look on his face and says "Clearly, Madame Giry, genius has turned to madness" and she just gives him this look like, "Oh, you think?". And because the Punjab lasso isn't the long-range weapon it was in the book, that advice about keeping your hand at the level of your eyes makes absolutely no sense; it just looks like Madame Giry told Raoul that so he'd look like an idiot walking into the Phantom's lair with his arm up in the air. Tit. On the other hand, it pleases me to think that, even in the midst of horror and death, there's always someone willing to go that extra mile to make Raoul look stupid.

'Cause honestly, movie!Erik only uses that damn rope when he's standing so close that it would actually be easier to punch them in the face. Which would be totally awesome, I'm thinking - Raoul would be all like, "Hand at the level of my eyes!" and Erik would be all, "What the fuck..." *PUNCH* and Raoul would be like, @_@ *collapse* and I would laugh.

And this is why nobody asks me to write movie scripts for them. Le sadness.

Now that my exams are over, I've been trying to come up with a sequel to Of Stuffed Unicorns and Stretchmarks. Unfortunatly, though I have ideas a-plenty, the giant sign in my head that says "Babies = Bad" is stopping any of them from really getting off the ground. So in the grand tradition of flaky New Age-types and Star Wars nerds alike, I decided to try meditation. Let's just say, it was not my best idea ever...

Froodle: *communing with the Force*
Force: Howdy. What can I do you for?
Froodle: Oh Force, I fear I have accidently written myself into a literary cul-de-sac...
Force: You know what you need? To kidnap Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen and force them to have sex at gunpoint.
Froodle: Um...
Force: Oh come on. That would be totally hot.
Froodle: Well, yes, but...
Force: Search your feelings. You know this to be true.
Froodle: ...wait a minute. You're not the Force at all! You're Darth Vader!
Darth Vader: Damn.
Froodle: What are you doing in my head, Darth Vader?
Darth Vader: Nothin'.
Froodle: You've killed my subconscious, haven't you? That's why my story is going all wrong.
Darth Vader: No...
Froodle: Liar.
Darth Vader: Froodle. I am your subconscious.
Froodle: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Darth Vader: *slices off Froodle's hand*
Froodle: Awww, crap. Now how am I going to write?
Darth Vader: Deal with it.
Froodle: Man you suck, Darth Vader.

Stupid Darth Vader.

*gigglesnort*

Watched the alternate cuts of Comes a Horseman and Revelation 6:8 with Alan and Jessica. And wackiness, as the saying goes, ensues...

[Flashback with Duncan and "Melvin" in Mexico/Wild West/some place with hats]
Duncan: Either way, Koren. On your feet or on your back.
Alan: Damn you, Duncan MacLeod. Kronos is not that kind of Immortal!

[Scene with Roman!Kronos and Roman!Methos and the WELL OF DOOM]
Jessica: Honestly, talk about your over-reaction. Doesn't anyone do the "we can still be friends" thing anymore?
Froodle: And here I thought Buffy and Angel had a monopoly on angsty, over-dramatic breakups. Although, in fairness, there is something about Kronos that screams "stalker ex".
Alan: Wouldn't that make them more Spike and Drusilla than Buffy and Angel, then?
Froodle: Or possibly Angel and Darla, but that's kind of mean to Kronos.
Jessica: Plus, I can see Kronos and Spike having similar styles, but not so much Kronos and Darla.
Alan: ...are you imagining Kronos dressed as a Catholic schoolgirl?
Jessica: ...little bit.
Froodle: I'm imagining Methos in one of Dru's floor-length slinky Goth dresses, holding a puppy called "Miss Sunshine".
Jessica: I think if Kronos was going to dress like a Buffy character, he'd be Faith. Or Vampire Willow.
Froodle: So... basically he'd be the same as he is now, only with bigger boobies?
Jessica: And better hair.

Kronos doing that little girl's voice was... disturbing on a level I never knew existed. Also, how retarded was that monk? "Oh hey, my boss-monk just told me there's a demon trapped in that well, and now it sounds like there's a child in there. I'd better go rescue it! It's not like demons are notorious decievers or anything!" Dumbass. And how come a weedy little monk can smash open that grating in like, two seconds, but Kronos has been down there thousands of years and never managed to escape? You fail at Well Escaping, Kronos.

Also, one line that should never, ever have been cut, because it proves beyond doubt that there is a God and he loves me: "I think you've gone soft, brother. You're not used to pain. Back then you would have jumped right up, asking for more."

In other news, saw the new Star Wars film today. ( Cut for spoilers, and also to spare those of you who can't bear to hear me rage against 'special needs' kids )

And finally, while the Phantom of the Opera is cool, he needs to take some lessons in dramatic entrances. Preferably from Angel, because that scene in Masquerade would have been vastly improved with a little door-smashery.

Neighbour Dan's girlfriend just gave me a fucking coronary on the back stairs. I'd taken the rubbish out, and was just punching the security code to get back inside the building when I feel someone step up behind me, a hand reaches over my shoulder and pushes the door open. I swear, I shrieked like some kind of character played by Orlando Bloom. But she was so startled she nearly fell down the steps, so I call it even.

In other news, last weekend I started my summer job as a call centre monkey. It's pretty cool actually, I sit around all day taking calls from pub owners whose fruit machines and the like have broken down. I type in half their postcode, pull up their details, type in the machine that's acting up and click "send". And for that, I get paid £5.70 an hour. Plus the company I work for rents out pool tables, so my second day on the job I got a call from a guy telling me his balls weren't dropping. I nearly bit my pencil in half trying not to laugh.

Tomorrow I have an interview for a job doing data entry five nights a week between 5.30 and 8.30. I've never done data entry, but I hope I get it because a) I need the money and b) 5.30 to 8.30 means I can bum around all day, go to work, then bum around all evening, while also getting paid £15 a night.

Now I'm going to go put my laundry on, order some Chinese food and watch Phantom of the Opera. Aah, life. She is good.

Watched the last few episodes of Highlander today. The world without Duncan Macleod was... well, it's a shame about Amanda and Joe and Fitz, but I never liked Richie anyway, and frankly, I think a world without Kronos sucks way more. And yes, I did cry during the scenes with Tessa. For I am a sappy, sappy Fangirl.

Am getting sinful amount of enjoyment out of the Law and Order dvds I bought for my mum's birthday (shut up, alright, I have to check that they work!), despite my horror on realising that District Attourney Paul is in fact Mr. Jubal Early, Bounty Hunter and shooter of Lovely Simon.

And finally, when I die, I'm going to a very special level of Hell; the one they reserve for people who write Phantom of the Opera MPREG... ( Read more... )

Ahh, smell that brimstone.