Oh, happy day!
Everyone who goes to my school should check out The Rock. You know, the one out front that people paint all the time. And no, these red stains on my hands have absolutely nothing to do with it.
Getting most of my non-musical music from fanvids has to be unethical from one standpoint or another. I get the songs for free, and, to make matters worse, because of the clips they're paired with, they get taken completely out of context. For instance: I cannot understand how the subject of "One Week" could possibly be a woman. It just doesn't sound like it. Nope, that's definitely a man, and the Barenaked Ladies are going to show up and arrest me for treason. Damn. (No, that didn't need to make sense.)
Mm, pushups. Perfect for those who have no access to proper equipment but still feel the need to build up muscle mass.
That entire movie was one big fanservice shot. How is even possible to fill the entire second act with a topless main character and not pass the PG-13 rating? I couldn't help giggling, probably to the irritation of those around me. Well, that's just payback for all of the drool running down in rivers from the people in the back. Don't they know that's disgusting?
But oh! The opening credits! There are no words to describe how amazing they were from both technical and creative standpoints. Everyone but Bond was two-dimensional, in very stark black, red, yellow, and green, but thanks to the angles they moved like real people. And bursting into spades, hearts, clubs and diamonds when killed...so much better than Die Another Day. Madonna, you need to go bow your head in shame, and your animation supervisors need to go sit in the corner. Utterly fantastic.
In one scene, Bond and his future Bond Girl seize each other up. It reminded me far too much of Holmes, only they turn out to be equals in intellect.
How can someone make snarky comments while being tortured? I could just about suspend my disbelief until that point. But really now. The film had managed to go almost entirely without homoerotic subtext until that point, and they just had to ruin everything with a few lines.
That scene in the airport? With the Body Works exhibit? Amazing. I've wanted to see that show ever since I heard about it, and this was the next best thing. Oh, and three cheers for the stabbing contest being hosted there. Some irony.
Le Chiffre has an eye exactly like the one the narrator describes in "The Tell-Tale Heart". My inner Poe fan jumped up and down at that.
Getting most of my non-musical music from fanvids has to be unethical from one standpoint or another. I get the songs for free, and, to make matters worse, because of the clips they're paired with, they get taken completely out of context. For instance: I cannot understand how the subject of "One Week" could possibly be a woman. It just doesn't sound like it. Nope, that's definitely a man, and the Barenaked Ladies are going to show up and arrest me for treason. Damn. (No, that didn't need to make sense.)
Mm, pushups. Perfect for those who have no access to proper equipment but still feel the need to build up muscle mass.
That entire movie was one big fanservice shot. How is even possible to fill the entire second act with a topless main character and not pass the PG-13 rating? I couldn't help giggling, probably to the irritation of those around me. Well, that's just payback for all of the drool running down in rivers from the people in the back. Don't they know that's disgusting?
But oh! The opening credits! There are no words to describe how amazing they were from both technical and creative standpoints. Everyone but Bond was two-dimensional, in very stark black, red, yellow, and green, but thanks to the angles they moved like real people. And bursting into spades, hearts, clubs and diamonds when killed...so much better than Die Another Day. Madonna, you need to go bow your head in shame, and your animation supervisors need to go sit in the corner. Utterly fantastic.
In one scene, Bond and his future Bond Girl seize each other up. It reminded me far too much of Holmes, only they turn out to be equals in intellect.
How can someone make snarky comments while being tortured? I could just about suspend my disbelief until that point. But really now. The film had managed to go almost entirely without homoerotic subtext until that point, and they just had to ruin everything with a few lines.
That scene in the airport? With the Body Works exhibit? Amazing. I've wanted to see that show ever since I heard about it, and this was the next best thing. Oh, and three cheers for the stabbing contest being hosted there. Some irony.
Le Chiffre has an eye exactly like the one the narrator describes in "The Tell-Tale Heart". My inner Poe fan jumped up and down at that.