Stuffs! weird stuff, cool stuff, problem stuff, wet stuff, funny stuff.
The weird:
For about the past week, week and a half, I've had this mole (roughly about the size of a tomato seed) get irritated on my side, just under the right boob (which of course makes it harder to look at...stupid boobs). I've had this mole pretty much my whole life, and it was an ugly little thing, more like a nubbin of flesh that I could actually move around. Anyhoo, it started getting all weird, getting very slightly enlarged and turning colors (first it got pinkish, then it went browner) and was painful to the touch for whatever reason - maybe it was getting rubbed raw from clothing friction, who knows; it actually bled a little one day. Yesterday, the thing finally fell off, though I don't know where it went. But at least it's gone and there is no more irritation, so yay.
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Cool stuff (that may turn out to be problem stuff, for reasons to be shortly explained):
My tax refund showed up today. This pleases me greatly. ^__________^
Enter my dad, who promptly starts telling me what he thinks (read: wants) I "should" do with it. This DISPLEASES me greatly. (And yes, I'm well aware of the irony of him telling me how to handle money, considering his many misadventures. Burglarized Shoebox in the middle of nowhere, anyone? How 'bout an unfinished airplane hangar in Wisconsin?)
I think we're about to have a confrontation. If not now, at some point in the not-too-distant future. This bothers me, not least of which because a) I suck at confrontations, and b) I don't have a support system to fall back on should things ever escalate to the point where I have nowhere else to go. (Though I don't think my parents would outright throw me out, although me being the neurotic type, this has always been a worry for me whenever my dad gets cranky. I don't react well to being yelled at; I remember one incident years ago in my early 20s where I'd screwed up some chore or something and my dad called the house in a rabid fury to take it out on me. I literally packed my then-two cats, Charlie and Bubba, into the car and was all set to just light out of there in a panic to avoid getting screamed at in person, before my brother was able to calm me down.) My dad doesn't ask you. He tells you. He talks down to you like you're stupid and incapable of anything, and when you try to explain yourself he gets mad and continually interrupts and won't let you get a damn word in edgewise. In short, he expects you to shut up and do as he says. If you don't, then he gets mad and sulks. In which case life around the house is really unpleasant for anybody in his immediate vicinity. So, yeah, I have lifelong Issues with a capital I. And part of my problem is my frustration at my own apparent inability to deal with these issues in a satisfactory manner.
Dad is going to dump the whole car insurance for my car on me, which for 6 months, is going to cost around $500 - 600. That's half the check right there. I have plans for this money, including FINALLY taking care of my bad tooth - which, if it turns out I'm fucked on that, will cost $510 to have the thing pulled out; $200 for the filling if it's just that. I may well decide to let my poor car just sit indefinitely...there's no point in renewing the insurance on it if I can't even freaking afford the gas to drive it, after the rest of the money inevitably gets sucked up for teeth/groceries. (And also when I inevitably can't pay to have the insurance renewed again after the initial 6 months is up.)
I really feel trapped here and I wish I had some better options. And I really wish I had a better backbone to stand up to my dad, because I know when I tell him what *I* want to do, he's going to pitch an absolute fit. (For example, he wants me to open another bank account at the bank here; I want to go with a credit union - fuck the banks, especially after this one refused to cash a check for me that one friend sent when I was really in food straits not so long ago, because I didn't have an account. (I got my dad to cash it for me.)) He's been on my case lately about getting a job and he snapped at me when I flat-out told him today that there is NOTHING in this shitty area for jobs (certainly nothing that I qualify for, with my pathetic background, and definitely nothing that would pay a livable wage, or at least enough to afford my car insurance/grocery/gas expenses), and I don't feel like driving all the hell way out to more nowhere just to spend that money on the gas to get to said low-level job. (That's assuming
I'm able to get one - for whatever reason, my name in this state is apparently mud. In the nearly 10 months since I came back north, I've applied at the Sprawlmart down in Ottawa like five times already, for instance, every time I see a want ad up in their window and can get to the place if I have reliable transport, and I have nothing to show for that. And we all know how well Crackhead Barrel worked out...)
I feel bad for my mom too, but for whatever reason, she can't seem to stand up to my dad and tell him he needs to get his shit together once and for all. She would have shit bricks the other day if she'd heard what he said - he came home from having lunch with her and griped to me that Mom getting upset over the way she gets treated by the Suckplace of Doom was "stupid" and that "she needs to not let it get to her so much." (Which may well have a point in one sense, but still - if it was his ass in there having to deal with the shit Mom does, he'd be bellyaching so long and loudly there wouldn't be enough room in the world for his complaints. Also, he'd never last two seconds in that scenario. There is a reason why my dad has been self-employed for most of the past thirty-some years.
*sigh* I hate that I suck so much at life.
For now, anyway, I'm going to make my own plans and follow the WWAD (What Would Akabane Do) model. (Answer: aside from the obvious, lol, exactly as he/I damn well pleases.)
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The basement has since dried out; we were very lucky on the flood count. Although I'm so glad I moved what Christmas stuff I had down there up to the attic when I did, before this system moved through. There's a LOT of standing water still all over the place: even flatlands like farming fields can flood surprisingly easy. The road where we turn off to go home (from coming east) was temporarily kind of an island - there was a shitload of water on both sides of it, so it was like this little peninsula for a bit. The creek down the road from that was all the way in people's backyards and you couldn't tell where the actual creek began and where there was land at the edge. I dislike spring because of all this storm shit. Rain is just depressing to me. At least snow gives you something nice to look at. So sorry, all you winter-haters out there, I am an evil dirty snow-loving freak 'cause that's just how I roll. ;p
I got the brilliant (sarcasm alert) idea to attempt to walk to the library today since it's nice out and I didn't feel like sitting around the house waiting for Dad to come back from wherever it was he was off to (which should tell you right there how desperate I can get sometimes) but fortunately he got back early and saw my note, so I didn't have to - good thing, because I really didn't feel like walking the 7 or 8 miles (?) all the hell way over here. Theoretically, I could do it as long as the weather was good (though it would take a loooooooong time), but there's a few risky patches on the highway where the traffic can be bad and I'd really rather not deal with that. Also, too much walking = not fun. But now I have several blissful hours all to myself (until the library closes at 8; the computers actually all shut down at 7:45), so I'm making the most of it. While surfing news sites so far I was disappointed to learn that the lead singer for the Divinyls died. I liked that one song of theirs (need I mention which one). Ahh, nostalgia.
Speaking of celebrities and news: my family and I cracked up over the report on Reese Witherspoon's getting busted. "Do you know who I am?" she supposedly said. Yeah, sweetie, you're a freaking moron with an overdeveloped sense of self-importance. Considering what cops are capable of in this day and how they tend to react to somebody who ignores the sense to stay put in the car, she's lucky she got off with just an arrest record. Take it from somebody who's been suddenly awoken to find a cop with a drawn gun at the front door: you *don't* fuck with the police.
And did anybody else catch that bit where the local news crew got busted for saying 'shit' on live TV during the coverage of the hunt for the bombing asshole? Hot mikes, kids: *never* assume that you cannot be overheard.
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In between my pondering of how to handle my life dilemmas, it is now time to ruminate on my latest thing: nitpicking movies, even ones I like. Since I can't bear to bring myself to suffer more 50 Shitty Shades of Sucky Sexfic - at least, not right now - I've turned my attentions elsewhere. So I bring you more Lord of the Rings, Pretty Woman, and Sense and Sensibility!
We start with the second LOTR, The Two Towers. I love the LOTR movies. I do. Even so, I feel I must take a few issues with them:
- I realized an indelible and horrifying truth that fellow Get Backers fans will appreciate: FUDOU IS THE GOLLUM OF GET BACKERS!! Seriously, let's examine the two:
1) Gollum: has a creepy appearance
2) Fudou: has a creepy, albeit easier on the eyes, appearance
1) Gollum: keeps muttering about his fanatical obsession with The Ring
2) Fudou: keeps muttering about his fanatical obsession with his desire to kill poor Ban
1) Gollum: engages in disgusting behavior like eating live fish raw
2) Fudou: engages in disgusting behavior like keeping the mummified remains of his arm that Ban tore off in a past fight
1) Gollum: flies into mouth-frothing fits of fury whenever his insane desires are thwarted
2) Fudou: Ditto
- I wish Eowyn had punched Wormtongue in the face when he was hitting on her. Can you say EEEWWWWW!
- Aww, Aragorn wussed out on letting Theoden take care of business and end Wormtongue. Dude, I'm telling you, you should've just let nature take its course. You're gonna regret that.
- The rivalry that sparked a thousand and one slashfics: Legolas and Gimli having a pissing contest during the Helm's Deep battle over who gets to kill the most enemies. Dudes, um, considering the 10,000+ problems you have there, I'd focus more on getting rid of the bad guys. You can lovers-quarrel later.
- At the Ent meeting, the hamster wheel in Merry's head finally spins to life, while Pippin gets dumber. Sure, dude, go back to the Shire. If there's anything left of it. And if you don't get killed from doing yet another stupid thing. Which in your case is practically guaranteed (just wait until we hit Return of the King and a certain palantir!)
- Aaaand yep, sure enough, what did I tell you, Aragorn. If you'd only let Theoden get rid of Wormtongue, he wouldn't have run crying like a little bitch to Saruman, who then wouldn't have concocted the gunpowder that took down your little playfort at Helm's Deep, and then you wouldn't be facing a shitload of Uruk-hai and Orcs steamrolling all up in your asses.
- Somewhere, surely, there is Aragorn/Haldir slashfic. Aragorn goes all insta-kill after Haldir gets mowed down in the fight. Um, okay, how come we haven't seen you show this much emotion over Arwen - yeah, remember her? The gal you've got stashed back somewhere in Rivendell?
- Color me fucking shocked fuschia: by getting the Ents to take them back by Isengard in order to evade discovery, Pippin has the one and only idea of his that actually doesn't get them in trouble!
- Creepy thought for the day: From LOTR, we have Wormtongue. In the other corner, we have Wormtail from Harry Potter. Somewhere, surely, there is Wormtongue/Wormtail slashfic. D:
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- It's NOT a good idea to eat anything during the opening of Return of the King. Smeagol likes that worm just a liiiiiittle too much. Also, GROOOOSSSSSSSS on the whole closeups of eating the fish. EWW. JUST EWWW.
- Merry and Pippin announce that they're "managing" Isengard after the fall of Saruman. Well, guess that place is fucked!
- I agree with Gimli on how to deal with Saruman, but Gandalf wimps out. Dammit guys, I'm telling you, if you'd get rid of the troublemakers right off the bat, you wouldn't have half the problems you keep running into...
- Oh, Pippin. You totally just blew whatever meager credit you'd managed to amass from your Ent plan with the messing around of the magic 8-ball - I mean, the palantir. Magic 8-Ball, will Pippin fuck this up? (Answer: IT IS CERTAIN.)
- Theoden hails 'the victorious dead.' Um, dude, there's not much victory in being dead...
- Wow, you know things are bad when even your pothead pal is pissed off at you. If hobbits could swear, I bet Merry would've been ripping Pippin a new one.
- Pippin winds up at Minas Tirith, where Gandalf echoes my thoughts: don't speak at ALL, dude.
- Denethor disses Gandalf? Aw hell no. Check yo self 'fore you wreck yo self, beeyotch.
- The gargoyle at the gate to the Dead City looks more like it's about to puke up a hairball, rather than being a vision of terror. Which, I suppose, for those of us who deal with hairballs on a regular basis, might be considered a legitimate version of terror...at least where fresh laundry and/or important papers are concerned.
- Witch King's battle helmet is kinda cool. I want one.
- Gandalf utters probably one of the funniest lines ever: "You must not fail me, Peregrin Took." DUDE. THIS IS PIPPIN. HE COULD SCREW UP OPENING A WET PAPER BAG.
- Denethor is such a dick to Faramir. What else can you say about a guy who sits on his ass stuffing his face while sending his son - whom he pretty much tells to his face that he thinks he's worthless - off on a suicide mission?
- For an emergency encampment, Theoden's tent sure looks more like a luxury retreat than a military tent. I thought you guys had to travel light on account of, you know, making it to the battlefield on time or something...?
- OK, a (future) father-in-law who not only gives you a spiffy new sword to stab Ugly Things with, but also a friggin' UNDEAD ARMY?? Elrond may be a neurotic overprotective worrywart, but DAMN does he give the best presents!
- Denethor totally fails at priorities: Gondor has Mordor armies up the ass, Faramir's one arrow shy of a gravestone and all this twit can piss and moan about is not having any more sons. Can you imagine how shitty a parent Denethor would be if he'd had any daughters? See dude, that's why you don't diss the wizard, or Gandalf will thump your dumb ass proper. In the face!
- An orc I like to call Cauliflower Head (on account of his disgusting appearance) tells the others to stay put when Gondor starts lobbing chunks of tower back at them (incidentally, EWWWWW on the whole severed-heads-dropping thing). Naturally, as any true shitty leader would do when it's his ass on the line, Cauliflower Head promptly moves out of the way when the incoming rock with his name on it is about to end his 15 minutes of orc-y fame. Wuss.
- Maybe it's just me, but Frodo's star of whatever-the-heck-elven-name-it-is looks like a glowing dildo...
- Also, again, maybe it's just me, but wouldn't hobbit shoes come in handy considering some of the terrain they've had to cover? Not only that, but a good shoe-stomping is useful in dealing with unwelcome spiders. (Although alas, there is not a shoe big enough to whack Shelob. Then again, the mess that'd make... XP )
- Denethor has this super-awesome (sarcasm alert) idea that, in order to avoid capture/death by the Mordorians, he is going to BURN HIMSELF AND FARAMIR ALIVE. Do you not realize how much that is going to REALLY FUCKING HURT, you idiot? Jeez, if you're going to take an early exit, at least get one of your guys to chop off your heads, or something. A LOT quicker and easier that way.
- Poor Faramir's going to need a buttload of therapy. First his daddy kicks him around for what, probably his whole life? Then his brother gets killed. And now he gets to watch Denethor fry. Some people just can't catch a break.
- Gandalf and Pippin talking about their odds of surviving the battle: not good. Interesting cool thought: it would totally be cool if God looked like Gandalf as he's shown in this scene. Seriously, all that white, and the friendly Zen-like expression? How could you not love a God who looked like that?
- Witch King (no, dear Ban-muse, not you, this is a different WK) and his snake-headed dragon thing are ridiculously easy to kill off. As long as you're a girl, anyway.
- Personally, I think Frodo is more pissed off at Gollum over his missing finger (look at it this way, dude, at least he didn't bite off your bird-waving finger!) than he is about losing the Ring. And to be fair, I don't blame him one little bit. That looked like it fucking HURT.
- Sam gets his girl, while the others - notably Pippin, who catches their wedding bouquet - eyeball their chances for romance and happy endings. Show of hands, here: who else besides me thinks that the idea of Pippin reproducing is downright terrifying?
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Out of curiosity last night, I watched Sense and Sensibility on my mom's recommendation (she liked it). I have to admit it was good, though it's one of those movies that I have to be in the mood for in order to watch (i.e., it's not something that I'd watch as often as, say, Harry Potter).
- It amuses me to no end that a couple of the HP alumni - notably Alan Rickman (who pretty much steals anything he shows up in) and Imelda Staunton, who plays the evil pink-putrid beeyotch Umbridge - are in this. And yes, Umbridge has the same evil demented giggle she had in HP. GAH.
- I want to smack Marianne (Kate Winslet). Willoughby is questionable at best; he's nice enough eye candy, but there's something...off...about him, so you'd think she'd go for the stable, devoted and delectable man-steak that is Alan Rickman Severus Snape Colonel Brandon? Nope. We spend most of the movie mooning over Willoughby, who of course turns out to be a big 'ol bag of douche. Honey, if you don't want Brandon, I'll take him. (Alan Rickman: making you envious of his awesomeness since his breakout role in Die Hard.)
- Fanny the SIL is a biiiiiiiiiitch. How to tell nasty characters in movies: they're usually the ones who have this tight, pinched stick-up-the-ass look about their faces, and she's no exception.
- I'm sorry, but Hugh Grant's uncomfortable look in those pants and that neck...collar thingie he's wearing amuse me greatly. And those pants especially...it just looks like they're all carrying around a load in there, and I don't mean the kind that they'd be proud to boast.
- Good job, Marianne: go out in a THUNDERSTORM and get soaked in cold rain. Apparently things like "ground-to-cloud lightning" and "pneumonia" did not exist back then.
- I feel bad for Margaret. Climbing around in treehouses and hiding under tables and stuff is exactly the kind of thing I did as a kid. Except that she probably got a lot more flack for being "unladylike" (although I've seen my share too). Seriously, fuck repression.
- This pisses me off: Brandon tells Elinor about his 'illegitimate' daughter, who - wait for it - has MY name. And OF COURSE she just has to end up in dire straits. Goddammit, this is one of the reasons I hate my name; characters who have it almost always fall into one of two camps: slutty psychoes (Basic Instinct, The 40-Year-Old Virgin) or tragic wimps (Little Women). Why can't there be a character out there with my name who is actually cool and kicks ass? >:(
- Aww, everybody ends up happy. Except for Willoughby. Who doesn't deserve it. 'Cause, you know, he's all douchey. Sucks to be you, dude.
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I'm starting to run low on time here at the library, so I'm going to save my review of Pretty Woman for later. Expect much snark and snipe, heh heh.
For about the past week, week and a half, I've had this mole (roughly about the size of a tomato seed) get irritated on my side, just under the right boob (which of course makes it harder to look at...stupid boobs). I've had this mole pretty much my whole life, and it was an ugly little thing, more like a nubbin of flesh that I could actually move around. Anyhoo, it started getting all weird, getting very slightly enlarged and turning colors (first it got pinkish, then it went browner) and was painful to the touch for whatever reason - maybe it was getting rubbed raw from clothing friction, who knows; it actually bled a little one day. Yesterday, the thing finally fell off, though I don't know where it went. But at least it's gone and there is no more irritation, so yay.
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Cool stuff (that may turn out to be problem stuff, for reasons to be shortly explained):
My tax refund showed up today. This pleases me greatly. ^__________^
Enter my dad, who promptly starts telling me what he thinks (read: wants) I "should" do with it. This DISPLEASES me greatly. (And yes, I'm well aware of the irony of him telling me how to handle money, considering his many misadventures. Burglarized Shoebox in the middle of nowhere, anyone? How 'bout an unfinished airplane hangar in Wisconsin?)
I think we're about to have a confrontation. If not now, at some point in the not-too-distant future. This bothers me, not least of which because a) I suck at confrontations, and b) I don't have a support system to fall back on should things ever escalate to the point where I have nowhere else to go. (Though I don't think my parents would outright throw me out, although me being the neurotic type, this has always been a worry for me whenever my dad gets cranky. I don't react well to being yelled at; I remember one incident years ago in my early 20s where I'd screwed up some chore or something and my dad called the house in a rabid fury to take it out on me. I literally packed my then-two cats, Charlie and Bubba, into the car and was all set to just light out of there in a panic to avoid getting screamed at in person, before my brother was able to calm me down.) My dad doesn't ask you. He tells you. He talks down to you like you're stupid and incapable of anything, and when you try to explain yourself he gets mad and continually interrupts and won't let you get a damn word in edgewise. In short, he expects you to shut up and do as he says. If you don't, then he gets mad and sulks. In which case life around the house is really unpleasant for anybody in his immediate vicinity. So, yeah, I have lifelong Issues with a capital I. And part of my problem is my frustration at my own apparent inability to deal with these issues in a satisfactory manner.
Dad is going to dump the whole car insurance for my car on me, which for 6 months, is going to cost around $500 - 600. That's half the check right there. I have plans for this money, including FINALLY taking care of my bad tooth - which, if it turns out I'm fucked on that, will cost $510 to have the thing pulled out; $200 for the filling if it's just that. I may well decide to let my poor car just sit indefinitely...there's no point in renewing the insurance on it if I can't even freaking afford the gas to drive it, after the rest of the money inevitably gets sucked up for teeth/groceries. (And also when I inevitably can't pay to have the insurance renewed again after the initial 6 months is up.)
I really feel trapped here and I wish I had some better options. And I really wish I had a better backbone to stand up to my dad, because I know when I tell him what *I* want to do, he's going to pitch an absolute fit. (For example, he wants me to open another bank account at the bank here; I want to go with a credit union - fuck the banks, especially after this one refused to cash a check for me that one friend sent when I was really in food straits not so long ago, because I didn't have an account. (I got my dad to cash it for me.)) He's been on my case lately about getting a job and he snapped at me when I flat-out told him today that there is NOTHING in this shitty area for jobs (certainly nothing that I qualify for, with my pathetic background, and definitely nothing that would pay a livable wage, or at least enough to afford my car insurance/grocery/gas expenses), and I don't feel like driving all the hell way out to more nowhere just to spend that money on the gas to get to said low-level job. (That's assuming
I'm able to get one - for whatever reason, my name in this state is apparently mud. In the nearly 10 months since I came back north, I've applied at the Sprawlmart down in Ottawa like five times already, for instance, every time I see a want ad up in their window and can get to the place if I have reliable transport, and I have nothing to show for that. And we all know how well Crackhead Barrel worked out...)
I feel bad for my mom too, but for whatever reason, she can't seem to stand up to my dad and tell him he needs to get his shit together once and for all. She would have shit bricks the other day if she'd heard what he said - he came home from having lunch with her and griped to me that Mom getting upset over the way she gets treated by the Suckplace of Doom was "stupid" and that "she needs to not let it get to her so much." (Which may well have a point in one sense, but still - if it was his ass in there having to deal with the shit Mom does, he'd be bellyaching so long and loudly there wouldn't be enough room in the world for his complaints. Also, he'd never last two seconds in that scenario. There is a reason why my dad has been self-employed for most of the past thirty-some years.
*sigh* I hate that I suck so much at life.
For now, anyway, I'm going to make my own plans and follow the WWAD (What Would Akabane Do) model. (Answer: aside from the obvious, lol, exactly as he/I damn well pleases.)
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The basement has since dried out; we were very lucky on the flood count. Although I'm so glad I moved what Christmas stuff I had down there up to the attic when I did, before this system moved through. There's a LOT of standing water still all over the place: even flatlands like farming fields can flood surprisingly easy. The road where we turn off to go home (from coming east) was temporarily kind of an island - there was a shitload of water on both sides of it, so it was like this little peninsula for a bit. The creek down the road from that was all the way in people's backyards and you couldn't tell where the actual creek began and where there was land at the edge. I dislike spring because of all this storm shit. Rain is just depressing to me. At least snow gives you something nice to look at. So sorry, all you winter-haters out there, I am an evil dirty snow-loving freak 'cause that's just how I roll. ;p
I got the brilliant (sarcasm alert) idea to attempt to walk to the library today since it's nice out and I didn't feel like sitting around the house waiting for Dad to come back from wherever it was he was off to (which should tell you right there how desperate I can get sometimes) but fortunately he got back early and saw my note, so I didn't have to - good thing, because I really didn't feel like walking the 7 or 8 miles (?) all the hell way over here. Theoretically, I could do it as long as the weather was good (though it would take a loooooooong time), but there's a few risky patches on the highway where the traffic can be bad and I'd really rather not deal with that. Also, too much walking = not fun. But now I have several blissful hours all to myself (until the library closes at 8; the computers actually all shut down at 7:45), so I'm making the most of it. While surfing news sites so far I was disappointed to learn that the lead singer for the Divinyls died. I liked that one song of theirs (need I mention which one). Ahh, nostalgia.
Speaking of celebrities and news: my family and I cracked up over the report on Reese Witherspoon's getting busted. "Do you know who I am?" she supposedly said. Yeah, sweetie, you're a freaking moron with an overdeveloped sense of self-importance. Considering what cops are capable of in this day and how they tend to react to somebody who ignores the sense to stay put in the car, she's lucky she got off with just an arrest record. Take it from somebody who's been suddenly awoken to find a cop with a drawn gun at the front door: you *don't* fuck with the police.
And did anybody else catch that bit where the local news crew got busted for saying 'shit' on live TV during the coverage of the hunt for the bombing asshole? Hot mikes, kids: *never* assume that you cannot be overheard.
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In between my pondering of how to handle my life dilemmas, it is now time to ruminate on my latest thing: nitpicking movies, even ones I like. Since I can't bear to bring myself to suffer more 50 Shitty Shades of Sucky Sexfic - at least, not right now - I've turned my attentions elsewhere. So I bring you more Lord of the Rings, Pretty Woman, and Sense and Sensibility!
We start with the second LOTR, The Two Towers. I love the LOTR movies. I do. Even so, I feel I must take a few issues with them:
- I realized an indelible and horrifying truth that fellow Get Backers fans will appreciate: FUDOU IS THE GOLLUM OF GET BACKERS!! Seriously, let's examine the two:
1) Gollum: has a creepy appearance
2) Fudou: has a creepy, albeit easier on the eyes, appearance
1) Gollum: keeps muttering about his fanatical obsession with The Ring
2) Fudou: keeps muttering about his fanatical obsession with his desire to kill poor Ban
1) Gollum: engages in disgusting behavior like eating live fish raw
2) Fudou: engages in disgusting behavior like keeping the mummified remains of his arm that Ban tore off in a past fight
1) Gollum: flies into mouth-frothing fits of fury whenever his insane desires are thwarted
2) Fudou: Ditto
- I wish Eowyn had punched Wormtongue in the face when he was hitting on her. Can you say EEEWWWWW!
- Aww, Aragorn wussed out on letting Theoden take care of business and end Wormtongue. Dude, I'm telling you, you should've just let nature take its course. You're gonna regret that.
- The rivalry that sparked a thousand and one slashfics: Legolas and Gimli having a pissing contest during the Helm's Deep battle over who gets to kill the most enemies. Dudes, um, considering the 10,000+ problems you have there, I'd focus more on getting rid of the bad guys. You can lovers-quarrel later.
- At the Ent meeting, the hamster wheel in Merry's head finally spins to life, while Pippin gets dumber. Sure, dude, go back to the Shire. If there's anything left of it. And if you don't get killed from doing yet another stupid thing. Which in your case is practically guaranteed (just wait until we hit Return of the King and a certain palantir!)
- Aaaand yep, sure enough, what did I tell you, Aragorn. If you'd only let Theoden get rid of Wormtongue, he wouldn't have run crying like a little bitch to Saruman, who then wouldn't have concocted the gunpowder that took down your little playfort at Helm's Deep, and then you wouldn't be facing a shitload of Uruk-hai and Orcs steamrolling all up in your asses.
- Somewhere, surely, there is Aragorn/Haldir slashfic. Aragorn goes all insta-kill after Haldir gets mowed down in the fight. Um, okay, how come we haven't seen you show this much emotion over Arwen - yeah, remember her? The gal you've got stashed back somewhere in Rivendell?
- Color me fucking shocked fuschia: by getting the Ents to take them back by Isengard in order to evade discovery, Pippin has the one and only idea of his that actually doesn't get them in trouble!
- Creepy thought for the day: From LOTR, we have Wormtongue. In the other corner, we have Wormtail from Harry Potter. Somewhere, surely, there is Wormtongue/Wormtail slashfic. D:
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- It's NOT a good idea to eat anything during the opening of Return of the King. Smeagol likes that worm just a liiiiiittle too much. Also, GROOOOSSSSSSSS on the whole closeups of eating the fish. EWW. JUST EWWW.
- Merry and Pippin announce that they're "managing" Isengard after the fall of Saruman. Well, guess that place is fucked!
- I agree with Gimli on how to deal with Saruman, but Gandalf wimps out. Dammit guys, I'm telling you, if you'd get rid of the troublemakers right off the bat, you wouldn't have half the problems you keep running into...
- Oh, Pippin. You totally just blew whatever meager credit you'd managed to amass from your Ent plan with the messing around of the magic 8-ball - I mean, the palantir. Magic 8-Ball, will Pippin fuck this up? (Answer: IT IS CERTAIN.)
- Theoden hails 'the victorious dead.' Um, dude, there's not much victory in being dead...
- Wow, you know things are bad when even your pothead pal is pissed off at you. If hobbits could swear, I bet Merry would've been ripping Pippin a new one.
- Pippin winds up at Minas Tirith, where Gandalf echoes my thoughts: don't speak at ALL, dude.
- Denethor disses Gandalf? Aw hell no. Check yo self 'fore you wreck yo self, beeyotch.
- The gargoyle at the gate to the Dead City looks more like it's about to puke up a hairball, rather than being a vision of terror. Which, I suppose, for those of us who deal with hairballs on a regular basis, might be considered a legitimate version of terror...at least where fresh laundry and/or important papers are concerned.
- Witch King's battle helmet is kinda cool. I want one.
- Gandalf utters probably one of the funniest lines ever: "You must not fail me, Peregrin Took." DUDE. THIS IS PIPPIN. HE COULD SCREW UP OPENING A WET PAPER BAG.
- Denethor is such a dick to Faramir. What else can you say about a guy who sits on his ass stuffing his face while sending his son - whom he pretty much tells to his face that he thinks he's worthless - off on a suicide mission?
- For an emergency encampment, Theoden's tent sure looks more like a luxury retreat than a military tent. I thought you guys had to travel light on account of, you know, making it to the battlefield on time or something...?
- OK, a (future) father-in-law who not only gives you a spiffy new sword to stab Ugly Things with, but also a friggin' UNDEAD ARMY?? Elrond may be a neurotic overprotective worrywart, but DAMN does he give the best presents!
- Denethor totally fails at priorities: Gondor has Mordor armies up the ass, Faramir's one arrow shy of a gravestone and all this twit can piss and moan about is not having any more sons. Can you imagine how shitty a parent Denethor would be if he'd had any daughters? See dude, that's why you don't diss the wizard, or Gandalf will thump your dumb ass proper. In the face!
- An orc I like to call Cauliflower Head (on account of his disgusting appearance) tells the others to stay put when Gondor starts lobbing chunks of tower back at them (incidentally, EWWWWW on the whole severed-heads-dropping thing). Naturally, as any true shitty leader would do when it's his ass on the line, Cauliflower Head promptly moves out of the way when the incoming rock with his name on it is about to end his 15 minutes of orc-y fame. Wuss.
- Maybe it's just me, but Frodo's star of whatever-the-heck-elven-name-it-is looks like a glowing dildo...
- Also, again, maybe it's just me, but wouldn't hobbit shoes come in handy considering some of the terrain they've had to cover? Not only that, but a good shoe-stomping is useful in dealing with unwelcome spiders. (Although alas, there is not a shoe big enough to whack Shelob. Then again, the mess that'd make... XP )
- Denethor has this super-awesome (sarcasm alert) idea that, in order to avoid capture/death by the Mordorians, he is going to BURN HIMSELF AND FARAMIR ALIVE. Do you not realize how much that is going to REALLY FUCKING HURT, you idiot? Jeez, if you're going to take an early exit, at least get one of your guys to chop off your heads, or something. A LOT quicker and easier that way.
- Poor Faramir's going to need a buttload of therapy. First his daddy kicks him around for what, probably his whole life? Then his brother gets killed. And now he gets to watch Denethor fry. Some people just can't catch a break.
- Gandalf and Pippin talking about their odds of surviving the battle: not good. Interesting cool thought: it would totally be cool if God looked like Gandalf as he's shown in this scene. Seriously, all that white, and the friendly Zen-like expression? How could you not love a God who looked like that?
- Witch King (no, dear Ban-muse, not you, this is a different WK) and his snake-headed dragon thing are ridiculously easy to kill off. As long as you're a girl, anyway.
- Personally, I think Frodo is more pissed off at Gollum over his missing finger (look at it this way, dude, at least he didn't bite off your bird-waving finger!) than he is about losing the Ring. And to be fair, I don't blame him one little bit. That looked like it fucking HURT.
- Sam gets his girl, while the others - notably Pippin, who catches their wedding bouquet - eyeball their chances for romance and happy endings. Show of hands, here: who else besides me thinks that the idea of Pippin reproducing is downright terrifying?
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Out of curiosity last night, I watched Sense and Sensibility on my mom's recommendation (she liked it). I have to admit it was good, though it's one of those movies that I have to be in the mood for in order to watch (i.e., it's not something that I'd watch as often as, say, Harry Potter).
- It amuses me to no end that a couple of the HP alumni - notably Alan Rickman (who pretty much steals anything he shows up in) and Imelda Staunton, who plays the evil pink-putrid beeyotch Umbridge - are in this. And yes, Umbridge has the same evil demented giggle she had in HP. GAH.
- I want to smack Marianne (Kate Winslet). Willoughby is questionable at best; he's nice enough eye candy, but there's something...off...about him, so you'd think she'd go for the stable, devoted and delectable man-steak that is Alan Rickman Severus Snape Colonel Brandon? Nope. We spend most of the movie mooning over Willoughby, who of course turns out to be a big 'ol bag of douche. Honey, if you don't want Brandon, I'll take him. (Alan Rickman: making you envious of his awesomeness since his breakout role in Die Hard.)
- Fanny the SIL is a biiiiiiiiiitch. How to tell nasty characters in movies: they're usually the ones who have this tight, pinched stick-up-the-ass look about their faces, and she's no exception.
- I'm sorry, but Hugh Grant's uncomfortable look in those pants and that neck...collar thingie he's wearing amuse me greatly. And those pants especially...it just looks like they're all carrying around a load in there, and I don't mean the kind that they'd be proud to boast.
- Good job, Marianne: go out in a THUNDERSTORM and get soaked in cold rain. Apparently things like "ground-to-cloud lightning" and "pneumonia" did not exist back then.
- I feel bad for Margaret. Climbing around in treehouses and hiding under tables and stuff is exactly the kind of thing I did as a kid. Except that she probably got a lot more flack for being "unladylike" (although I've seen my share too). Seriously, fuck repression.
- This pisses me off: Brandon tells Elinor about his 'illegitimate' daughter, who - wait for it - has MY name. And OF COURSE she just has to end up in dire straits. Goddammit, this is one of the reasons I hate my name; characters who have it almost always fall into one of two camps: slutty psychoes (Basic Instinct, The 40-Year-Old Virgin) or tragic wimps (Little Women). Why can't there be a character out there with my name who is actually cool and kicks ass? >:(
- Aww, everybody ends up happy. Except for Willoughby. Who doesn't deserve it. 'Cause, you know, he's all douchey. Sucks to be you, dude.
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I'm starting to run low on time here at the library, so I'm going to save my review of Pretty Woman for later. Expect much snark and snipe, heh heh.