Listen, Mikey, why don't you take Laurie outside to play?
Adulthood sort of sneaks up on you, doesn't it. Every time I check out my bank account, I get the shock of my life. "OMGWTFBBQ! There's money here!" You know, four years ago I didn't even have a bank account, and now there's money there. Money that's mine, that I can do what I want with. I haven't gotten over the shock yet.
On other news, I just finished the first Halloween movie. Now there's an hour and a half of my life that I'll never get back. Dear, sweet Jesus. Turns out sitting through Halloween is like reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein - you only do it once. With great reluctance. The acting was mediocre at best (even Jamie Lee Curtis, whose brilliance obviously was dampened by all that hair), the deaths were more humorous than bone-chilling and the score made me want to pull my own arm off and beat myself to death with the soggy end. No honestly, John Carpenter's score made me feel like he was hammering away at my spine with a very small hammer.
The only plus points this movie gets is Michael himself - the way he popped up and disappeared, just standing there like some sort of deranged scarecrow. The mask was ugly as hell, but served it's purpose, and I really liked his jacket. He gets another plus for the creepy breathing - you knew the guy was in the room somewhere, but you didn't know where, all you heard was that psycho, perv-on-the-phone panting.
But that's it. Jamie Lee's crying left me giggling, not curled up into a ball in a corner. The killings made me laugh (especially the first one) and the end just made me roll my eyes. Also... if Dr. Loomis knew what a nut Michael was, why on earth did he insist on staying at the Meyers house alone, in the middle of the night? And, if Michael had never said a word, how could the doctor know for sure that he would some day try to escape? Why would he murder again? And all that yapping about being "teh Eeeeeeevilll" was completely lost on me. What's that word I'm looking for? Oh, yeah - contrived. I guess I like my murderers to have motives.
Quite frankly, for most of the movie I was contemplating my hair. It's just getting back to the way I want it from my less-than-fortunate haircut in October, and my bangs are growing back. A girl can't feel complete without bangs. All in all, this is the second disappointment in the scary movie genre for me - I almost fell asleep during The Exorcist. I will now move on to Stephen King and see if I can get something out of that. And if that doesn't work, I can always sit down and heckle Freddie Kruger.
Or I'll just watch a little Eddie Izzard instead.
On other news, I just finished the first Halloween movie. Now there's an hour and a half of my life that I'll never get back. Dear, sweet Jesus. Turns out sitting through Halloween is like reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein - you only do it once. With great reluctance. The acting was mediocre at best (even Jamie Lee Curtis, whose brilliance obviously was dampened by all that hair), the deaths were more humorous than bone-chilling and the score made me want to pull my own arm off and beat myself to death with the soggy end. No honestly, John Carpenter's score made me feel like he was hammering away at my spine with a very small hammer.
The only plus points this movie gets is Michael himself - the way he popped up and disappeared, just standing there like some sort of deranged scarecrow. The mask was ugly as hell, but served it's purpose, and I really liked his jacket. He gets another plus for the creepy breathing - you knew the guy was in the room somewhere, but you didn't know where, all you heard was that psycho, perv-on-the-phone panting.
But that's it. Jamie Lee's crying left me giggling, not curled up into a ball in a corner. The killings made me laugh (especially the first one) and the end just made me roll my eyes. Also... if Dr. Loomis knew what a nut Michael was, why on earth did he insist on staying at the Meyers house alone, in the middle of the night? And, if Michael had never said a word, how could the doctor know for sure that he would some day try to escape? Why would he murder again? And all that yapping about being "teh Eeeeeeevilll" was completely lost on me. What's that word I'm looking for? Oh, yeah - contrived. I guess I like my murderers to have motives.
Quite frankly, for most of the movie I was contemplating my hair. It's just getting back to the way I want it from my less-than-fortunate haircut in October, and my bangs are growing back. A girl can't feel complete without bangs. All in all, this is the second disappointment in the scary movie genre for me - I almost fell asleep during The Exorcist. I will now move on to Stephen King and see if I can get something out of that. And if that doesn't work, I can always sit down and heckle Freddie Kruger.
Or I'll just watch a little Eddie Izzard instead.