Tuesday, November 29, 2005

So This is Christmas...

Nothing begins the pre-Christmas gorgefest (or ends it, I suppose) like reviewing your Turkey Day meal in glorious technicolor Blork-O-Vision. (This was previously known as Vomit-View, but the public relations voices in my head forced me to change it.) Yup, precisely 30 minutes after downing the last bit of my second helping of thirds of sweet potatoes, my stomach did it's best impression of Mt. Vomituvius (the 12 year old humor voices in my head have just murdered the public relations department, deal with it), and that's how I spent my 3-day holiday; curled up in a fetal position praying for mercy while having my insides gnawed upon by demonic elves, not really feeling my best, rather than getting trampled to death outside a Wal*Mart on Black Friday. Life just isn't fair ...

What else I didn't get to do, until Sunday afternoon, was go to the latest Harry Potter angst-fest. But, as noted, I did go on Sunday, and after months of eagerly anticipating it, and after 3 days of bitching and moaning mildly expressing my displeasure about how I was going to miss it again, I was there ... and I was disappointed. Yes, they touched on all the key points, (Big Ass Snake! Dead Muggle! Burning Scar! Quidditch! Death Eaters! Goblet! Teen Angst! Cho Chang! Dragon! Ron's Gone Mental! Rita Skeeter! Mad Eye Moody! Where the Hell are the Dursleys! More Special Effects! Hermione's Suddenly an Hysterical Git With No Logical Reasoning Behind It Unless You've Read the Book and Why Won't Ron Get a Haircut, Already! etc and so forth.), but didn't bother to put in enough back story to make logical sense of anything. I had initially bitched and moaned till my fingers bled put down a lengthy discourse on the flaws of the film, (anyone interested in discussing this, feel free to e-mail me and we'll dish), but here's the condensed version: Fine, leave out the Hermione/S.P.E.W. bit, but was there any other reason to leave in the Rita Skeeter part other than to give Miranda Richardson something to do? Wouldn't that time have been better spent explaining why Hermione suddenly had a meltdown at the end of the ball (teen pregnancy is such a drag, even within the wizarding world) or why Harry suddenly felt compelled to give Cedric information on the first task (busting a meth lab in Diagon Alley)? And, is it just me, or what the hell was with Harry nekkid in the tub with an egg and Moaning (ahem!)Myrtle deep sea diving bit?

Those Brits, sick perverts, the lot of 'em.

And, this just in: What the FUCK happened to Sarah Connor?



















(Photo courtesy of the Fug Girls. Who knows where the hell they got it from.)

Next post: My Dog's a Carpet Muncher.

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