Half of me is outraged (oh no you didn't, bitch, there is no comparison) half of me is indifferent (who cares, really?) half of me is sighing at the other halves (it's a joke, guys, a joke) half of me is giggling (it's funny cos it's kinda true) and half of me is cooing over this picture:
Which makes for a grand total of two and a half confused fangirls living in my head, all of whom want in on that threesome.
But when anyone uses that word, and genuinely means it, a piece of my soul dies. Just throwing that out there.
... they keep getting elected.
(Sorry. I couldn't resist.)
Why is the internet sick?! First facebook was playing up like a mofo, and now my livejournal notifications seem to be on an eight hour time lag (if I get them at all) and I can't access clips on TDS or TCR and I DO NOT LIKE IT.
If the interwebs have finally decided to pull Matrix on us and declare war on the human race I would just like to put it out there that this week isn't really convenient for me.
Could we reschedule for the 28th, maybe? Or next month?
I saw Coraline this week with an animation-nut, and I thought it was sweet and visually gorgeous though perhaps a little slow. We both came away slightly unsatisfied in the sense that he found the animation a little too polished, not with the same stop-motion charm of Nightmare Before Christmas, and I was longing for a little more creepy Gaiman bite. Though I couldn't but adore the fact there was a character called Why-Be-Born...Wybie was sweet, and the plight of him and of Other-Wybie were probably the only parts I really empathised with...
I also really, really want to see Inglourious Basterds. It's disturbing how much fun that film looks.
And, in other news, the Ashes drags on and now I can't get control of the TV ever, since apparently Australia is resurging or something. Gah. All I can make out is that some of the English bowlers are cute and the SBS coverage would be crap without Stuart Macgill flirting with the camera and his co-hosts incessantly.
More questions! I feel loved and confused and violated all at once. So, clearly, you're all doing an excellent job. COMMENCE THE INTERROGATION!
Actually, scratch that. After all, I have it from a reliable source that if you ever find yourself in the power of someone who uses the word 'commence' in cold blood, go somewhere else very quickly. If they say 'enter', don't stop to pack. Genre savvy, I believe they call it.
Aw, hell. Commence away. And enter, too.
( This girl is evil, and I respect that. And no, I'm not crying, it's just raining on my face. )
( The directionless, the fear, the ordinary, the revelatory and the place I call home. )
Swot vac starts today! I celebrated by grabbing myself a book of Neil Gaiman short stories and buying Ferris Buellers Day Off on DVD. I shall spend my weekend curled up on my couch cheering Ferris and wanting to comfort Cameron. Rounded off with stories of little old ladies who find the Holy Grail in op shops, jack-in-the-boxes who wait for children in the dark and grin, trolls who eat your life and wear your soul like a nice-fitting jacket and a St Nicholas who is as old as sin and prays for death, a martyr who wonders why Judas got a lighter punishment. Neil Gaimans books: the only horror stories I'd ever read.
In other news:
( I'm becoming disturbingly attracted to Ryan Reynolds, nice people scare me, and Art vs Science )