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I don't really have much of nuthin' to post this minute. I was going to do this memeorandum round up, but Jeezus H. Crabapple - I'm just sick of them all ... why are people being paid for opinions? Why do people act like they are doing anything but venting their hot air? These aren't experts in anything they're writing about - it's just opinion...!
Surprise! You don't have any brilliant insights! And, all you do is cross post to each other - if you want to argue and spat do it through email, dipshits.
So, yeah. I was gonna do this memeo-round up thing, but now I'm not. So I present this link instead to 'Arbogast on Film'. I won't lie - its an older post and he really needs to update it, but its pretty funny and after wading through the bullshit on memeo, I needed the laugh.
So, I present unto you, "Why You Are Not the Final Girl". I literally burst out laughing at the Pat Tracey entry, who bought it in 'Blood Feast', I believe.
Seriously, Arbo needs to update this mini-article.
OMG, I totally want to force the 'domestic partner' to wear these absolutely stunningly tacky and yet somehow sexy outfits!
Thank you, Liz!
- Mood:
amused
For anyone who somehow still has failed to grasp just how fantastic my girl is... I give you:
Still the One - Buffy Summers Wins Master Monster Hunter Tournament
- Mood:
exhausted
So, as I do these days, despite the fact the election is over, I was over at memeorandum.com checking out the blogsphere/punditverse. It was actually kind of dull, to tell the truth. But, there's this particular blogger who I should really stop reading because he just pisses me off.
(the Other McCain, if you really wanna know)
So, after his helping of mindless obstinance, I really needed something a bit more light-hearted. And for that, you must go to Final Girl.
I seriously HEART her in one of those gay guys/straight girl non-sex ways. Now, if you're not into B-Movie Slashers, you'll not understand my love, but that's okay. The point is, she's also just really funny. So I share this from her post for today:
Even the background players are an affront to my delicate eyes! Yes, I'm talking about you back there, Banana Orbison. We see you, and we see that your outfit is atrocious.
There. See... it's brilliant. Ah, the 80's. After hating my parents over the fashion abuse I suffered as a child (seriously, if you're disturbed by Japanese boys in short-shorts running after Gamera, you should be appalled by the fashions we were subjected to: tight-tight, light brown/dark brown striped pants? UGH.), I completely decided that parachute pants and a net-shirt was the epitome of looking good. I completely forgive my parents, at least they had the hippie drug-culture to take the blame.
I don't know what OUR excuse was.
- Mood: chipper
