So... New Moon... Huh...
Is it weird that I don't really care for New Moon except for the last 30 minutes or so? Because I've seen that last 30 min, like, seven times. The rest of it? Couldn't care less. Michael Sheen comes in with that really awful wig... what is it with these movies and bad wigs? No, seriously? That one guy from Sweeney Todd in the blond wig who never gets up? When was that hairstyle ever a good idea? When was that considered a good look for him? You'd think in the handful of centuries he's been around, someone would've been all "You realize that hair makes you look super gay? And not in a good, 'Tim Gunn and Simon Doonan approve' way. It's more 'Would totally make Liberace cringe it's so flamboyent'. No offense."
And why do the Italian Mafia vamps have British accents? Aren't they Italian? I mean, their names are. Well, they're Roman. As in Rome. As in the Roman Fucking Empire. I know that Rome once held Britain, but you've lived in Italy for a millenium. You clearly speak some Italian, or Latin, Michael-Sheen-in-a-fucking-awful-wig-with-that-fucking-awful-widow's-peak. Where's your accent? Who are you, fucking Antonio Banderas or Arnold Schwarzenegger? Or did you continuously subject yourself to some hellish boy's school like Eton until the accent was mercilessly teased from you?
All these questions, and I would still rather watch just that part over and over than sit through the whole movie again.
And what the hell was up with some creepy old ladies sitting behind me actually fucking QUIVERED when Jacob took his shirt off the first time? They kicked my seat in joy. No joke. My friend took this deep breath and was all, "You see?! Awesome!" And I'm like, "I see a really awful wig on a shirtless 16 year old, you pedo." Then he got a haircut, and I was no longer distracted from the ridiculously cut man-child's body, which successfully distracted me from his awkward nose.
To the women over 25 in the audience: You are all fucking sick. Go read grown-up dirty-girl books and stop pedo-ing 17 year old boys. If you are more than 10 years older than the man you're gushing over, and he's a minor which makes him NOT A MAN, just fucking stop. Don't be that woman. You know, the one who turns out to be that one friend's desperate mother that everyone made fun of because she couldn't seem to control herself around her kid's hot friends? Yeah, don't be her. That woman ends up like Mary Kay Latourneau. Then again, you are weird enough to want that. After all, you're a 30+ year-old woman reading bad Mary Sue-fanfiction that's been adapted into a less-than-stellar movie whose underage actor you are perving over. Good luck with the therapy bills your children will be charging to you.
And why do the Italian Mafia vamps have British accents? Aren't they Italian? I mean, their names are. Well, they're Roman. As in Rome. As in the Roman Fucking Empire. I know that Rome once held Britain, but you've lived in Italy for a millenium. You clearly speak some Italian, or Latin, Michael-Sheen-in-a-fucking-awful-wig-with-that-fucking-awful-widow's-peak. Where's your accent? Who are you, fucking Antonio Banderas or Arnold Schwarzenegger? Or did you continuously subject yourself to some hellish boy's school like Eton until the accent was mercilessly teased from you?
All these questions, and I would still rather watch just that part over and over than sit through the whole movie again.
And what the hell was up with some creepy old ladies sitting behind me actually fucking QUIVERED when Jacob took his shirt off the first time? They kicked my seat in joy. No joke. My friend took this deep breath and was all, "You see?! Awesome!" And I'm like, "I see a really awful wig on a shirtless 16 year old, you pedo." Then he got a haircut, and I was no longer distracted from the ridiculously cut man-child's body, which successfully distracted me from his awkward nose.
To the women over 25 in the audience: You are all fucking sick. Go read grown-up dirty-girl books and stop pedo-ing 17 year old boys. If you are more than 10 years older than the man you're gushing over, and he's a minor which makes him NOT A MAN, just fucking stop. Don't be that woman. You know, the one who turns out to be that one friend's desperate mother that everyone made fun of because she couldn't seem to control herself around her kid's hot friends? Yeah, don't be her. That woman ends up like Mary Kay Latourneau. Then again, you are weird enough to want that. After all, you're a 30+ year-old woman reading bad Mary Sue-fanfiction that's been adapted into a less-than-stellar movie whose underage actor you are perving over. Good luck with the therapy bills your children will be charging to you.