more tangled than a kitten in bowl of spaghetti
Yeah ok so I stayed up until 4 last night/this morning reading Making History because I just could. not. put. it. down. Like, at some point, when I got to a chapter break or something, I thought "hey, I have to get up at 7 to go to the dentist at 8 so maybe, just maybe, I should put the book down and go to sleep now, so I might have a chance of not passing out in the chair, and anyway this book will still be here in all its glory tomorrow so what's with the mania?" Right. Except I really couldn't stop myself. At all. And GOD was it worth it. Just...beautiful. Like, ok, maybe it wasn't omg!amazing literaturrrrrrrre or anything, but it was imaginative as anything and perfectly pitched and executed and my god I still don't get how he can turn it all into a love story and make it work but by golly he did and it was absolutely wonderful.
I'm very curious to learn what my reaction to The Liar will be, because everything else by Stephen I've read (yes, all two of them!) have left me with the most ridiculous sort of grinning happiness and I don't even care how sappy it might make me look, it is so joyous.
Ugh, I just can't get enough of these guys. I'm doing that shameful shitty movie thing I do when I'm obsessed, by which I mean that I download them or tell TiVo to record them and then fast forward past all the lame stuff to focus on the parts that I'm interested in. In this case, it's Hugh, so I've kind of not seen 101 Dalmations, Stuart Little, and Street Kings with my finger on the forward seek because I just couldn't be bothered to endure the non-Hugh-y bits. What's sad is that I fucking know I liked the live-action 101 Dalmations when I was a kid (in my defense, I hadn't read the book yet), and now my only interest in it is perving on a whole bunch of curly hair, Cockney accents, and physical comedy. (And blue blue eyes, but that's kind of a given, no?) I never even gave Stuart Little a chance, because I had read that book beforehand and the commercials made me really upset. And now I watch it because of the dork!glasses. Street Kings I have no excuse for - it had been uploaded, Hugh was in it, that was that. You know, I'm kind of glad that Jon's shitty movies were never really mainstream or anything, because I was so crazy obsessed I really would have sat through Doogal. And, I mean, what the fuck is that. Wrong, that's what.
And then there's Stephen. Stephen Stephen Stephen. I absolutely adore that man. He's perfectly impossible and so fucking made of love I don't know what to do with myself sometimes. Then the moment passes and I'm left with that word "adore" again. Not sure why, but that's the only word that seems to work for me and him. Not that there aren't other words, of course, but in my mind it always comes back to complete, utter adoration.
Seriously, though. Hugh and Stephen. Huge and Stiffen. Fry and Laurie. Whatever. They're perfect. Pure and simple. And I love them.
Hmm. I suppose I ought to be ashamed of this veritable outpouring of the squishier emotions involved in embarrassing celebrity worship, but then, what's the point of having an el-jay if you can't fill it right up with horrible, cringe-inducing drivel? Exactly.
I'm very curious to learn what my reaction to The Liar will be, because everything else by Stephen I've read (yes, all two of them!) have left me with the most ridiculous sort of grinning happiness and I don't even care how sappy it might make me look, it is so joyous.
Ugh, I just can't get enough of these guys. I'm doing that shameful shitty movie thing I do when I'm obsessed, by which I mean that I download them or tell TiVo to record them and then fast forward past all the lame stuff to focus on the parts that I'm interested in. In this case, it's Hugh, so I've kind of not seen 101 Dalmations, Stuart Little, and Street Kings with my finger on the forward seek because I just couldn't be bothered to endure the non-Hugh-y bits. What's sad is that I fucking know I liked the live-action 101 Dalmations when I was a kid (in my defense, I hadn't read the book yet), and now my only interest in it is perving on a whole bunch of curly hair, Cockney accents, and physical comedy. (And blue blue eyes, but that's kind of a given, no?) I never even gave Stuart Little a chance, because I had read that book beforehand and the commercials made me really upset. And now I watch it because of the dork!glasses. Street Kings I have no excuse for - it had been uploaded, Hugh was in it, that was that. You know, I'm kind of glad that Jon's shitty movies were never really mainstream or anything, because I was so crazy obsessed I really would have sat through Doogal. And, I mean, what the fuck is that. Wrong, that's what.
And then there's Stephen. Stephen Stephen Stephen. I absolutely adore that man. He's perfectly impossible and so fucking made of love I don't know what to do with myself sometimes. Then the moment passes and I'm left with that word "adore" again. Not sure why, but that's the only word that seems to work for me and him. Not that there aren't other words, of course, but in my mind it always comes back to complete, utter adoration.
Seriously, though. Hugh and Stephen. Huge and Stiffen. Fry and Laurie. Whatever. They're perfect. Pure and simple. And I love them.
Hmm. I suppose I ought to be ashamed of this veritable outpouring of the squishier emotions involved in embarrassing celebrity worship, but then, what's the point of having an el-jay if you can't fill it right up with horrible, cringe-inducing drivel? Exactly.