Who Cries For Guy

Or Nottingham? Or Richard (III)? Or egg cream?

Who cries for you?

No one.

No one who can help you, at any rate.

Oh Noes! Can't Sleep Again!

WUT WORSE?

Finding the BBC series North and South on Netflix instant.

And the series being awesome like Pride and Prejudice and starring a guy that looks like the unholy love child of Hugh Jackman, Adrien Brody, and Gerry Butler. With the brooding of Firth's Darcy thrown in.

HEDEXPLODZ!!!!!

How? Why? It's like the evil forces in the universe reached into my brain and retrieved the description of a beautiful man and then built Richard Armitage to those specs.

Lookit this ridiculousness:

http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/john-thornton?before=1304203400

With the nose and the hair and the eyes and the HIGH COLLAR.

Have mercy.

Good News and Stuff

I have forgotten to record a piece of awesome news what has happened upon me.

(sometimes i have what alcoholics refer to a 'moment of clarity' and realize that people who visit this blog might think english is not my first language)

Anyhoodle, my super righteous leetle seester and some yet-to-be-revealed friends got together and bought me a plane ticket back East for the holidays.....how freaking cool is that??!!!!

I almost cried when she told me. It's an amazing gift. I am humbled.

Guess what I did this weekend? CRITMUS CARDZ!!!!!

Dat's allota dimp!

By my count I've done up about 56 cards so far. It doesn't sound like much, but it takes forever. Next year I'm buying labels and printing out my return address. I also think it's a bad sign when the stamp cost supersedes the card cost.

My friends Omey Pie and his loverly Mrs. are sending me some headgear, so I can Skypes with Bef. For those of you who don't know Bef, or maybe haven't seen her in a while, let me give you a refresher:

Ahhh...that's always a good one.

It's nice to be remembered. Omey is great about letting you know when you're on his mind. To wit (and soooooo NSFW):

And in the continuing awesome adventures of George, this little gem by way of my friend Bijoux:

This man is a national treasure. For reals.

p.s. hee...drunk!bef. . .

AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

It's funny because it's true.

Throat Disfigurement Waning!

I can swallow without severe pain! My throat is no longer a grotesque, swollen, mishaped Lovecraftian nightmare!

I believe this morning is the first time in three days that I'm actually able to completely swallow, as in the throat muscles are not impeding by softball sized tonsils.

TMI? I don't care!

Pain is so relative. My throat still hurts, but the fact that it works and that it only hurts when I do something (as opposed to just radiating pain) makes all the difference.

Now I'm excited. Maybe I'll sleep past 4 am tonight.

Is this miracle the benefit of modern science? Or the result of watching all my back episodes of The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson? You make the call.

You Know That Scene In Movies. . .

. . . where our hero is presented with the pretty outfit to wear to the Big Event? And it's usually accompanied by some fancy ornaments, like a cherished heirloom or expensive jewels.

I think the reason those scenes are universal is not because identify with wanting to wear beautiful things, but because we want to believe we are already beautiful things deserving of decoration.

I don't know if that makes sense on paper, but it did in my head.

I Have Been In A Misery

It started off with a migraine so bad I couldn't sleep.

This led to diagnosis of tonsillitis. Yep, because I'm an 8 year old or something.

But wait, what better way to follow up a night of intense head and sinus pain than with a night of throat pain so bad that you can't sleep more than 45 minutes a whack?!?

Bonus points for not being able to lie down: dials the pain up to 11 because it compresses the tonsils or some shit.

It hurt to swallow spit. It hurt even when I didn't swallow.

Fortunately, my good friends Princess O and Lin Lin both ferried my deranged ass around town. Between doctor's offices, phone calls, and WAY too many trips to Rite Aid, I am as prepared as one soul can be for the oncoming night.*

2011: So Not My Year.

*That's prepared in the sense that doctor's won't provide heavy duty pain pills (not really desired) or a steroid spray to reduce insane swelling which has caused partial blockage in throat. How the hell are you supposed to get better if the inflammation prevents you from eating, drinking, swallowing the med, or sleeping?

Is It Wrong That I Hear Lords of Acid In My Head. . .

. . . everytime the ice cream truck goes by playing "Pop Goes The Weasel?"

Perhaps it is the sign of a misspent youth. (I typed "ultimate sign" at first, but then I realized I have so many signs of misspent youth, I'm really in no position to declare one more significant than another.)

It's trite to say it, but the Internets really will suck your life away. It's hard to do All Of the Things. Here are some of the things I've been doing/looking at lately.

+ With the release with what is rumored to be the final Batman in the Nolan franchise, we all know it's just a matter of years, maybe even months, before we get another "reboot." HuffPo is already on it, with a list of candidates.

It's probably not cool to say it, but I think Michael Keaton is my favorite Bat-Dude so far. It was an inspired choice, and I've often wondered how another primarily comic actor would do in the role. In fact, Burton's first pic had an interesting juxtaposition: comedic actor in the relatively straight role, and deadly SRS BIZNS actor in the flamboyant cartoonish role.

Out of HuffPo's list, Ryan Gosling leaps out at me. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the deceptively gentle, preppie face that you wouldn't expect to be all dark and twisty? I haven't seen much of his work, but he is a man of justice in real life. Also, he covered snobby elite and mentally unstable in that Sandra Bullock crime movie. 

+ Hey kids, want to waste endless amounts of time and have a ridiculous looking image to show for it? Hit up Instyle's Hollywood Makeover page. Save your work often, as it tends to be a little freeze-y. I have learned the valuable lesson that I shouldn't follow my teenage dream of cutting off all my hair and bleaching it blonde. I look like a Dickensian orphan boy out to pick your pocket. No, I won't post the picture. But a certain friend got a lulz-worthy one of me with Farrah Fawcett hair.

Sometimes (mosttimes) the dream is so much better than the reality.

+ I love's me a Meloni Sammich! Plus, Chris Meloni and HBO are two great tastes that taste great together. Hope this turns out ot be true. (From D-Listed)

+ My mom sent me this link for the top 25 submissions to DamnYouAutoCorrect.com . Hard to pick a favorite, but "Volvo" and "Mom?" stand out. My iPad has done some autocorrects on my mail, but nothing this hilarious.

+ So I couldn't sleep again last night. I have no idea why. But it lead to me watching the 1982 version of Cat People, with Malcom McDowell, Natassia Kinski, and a surprisingly fetching John Heard. The flick is done a disservice and hugely dated by the heavy synth soundtrack, but it seemed okay. I usually have an iron clad stomach, but there's a scene with McDowell where he's, well, grooming himself after an event. Dude, it seriously makes my gag relfex hiccup just a little. I have to stop thinking about it now.

But watching this film made me think about a phrase that has changed slightly, but perhaps significantly, since early 80s. People used to say "make love with" in a first person sense, e.g. "I want to make love with you." It's a very odd phrase to hear today, when the common saying would be "I want to make love to you."

And it got me thinking, does that tiny change denote a larger shift in our cultural attitudes towards sex? Is it significant that sex has altered from something you do with someone to something you do to someone? Are we more self absorbed now, and lovemaking springs from us and we simply inflict it on a likely partner/victim? Blah blah psychobabblecakes.

Probably some Berkeley student wrote a thesis on this a decade ago, but I wanted to put my undiluted thoughts out there before researching.

+ This is turning into a rather lengthy tome, so maybe I should wrap this up for now. I leave you with a still from the upcoming Alien prequel, Prometheus. Looky looky, it's my unlikely ginger crush, Fassbender. In another improbable outfit. And dyed blond. And there was much rejoicing

Found at slashflilm.com

Oh Noes!!11!!!

Oh dear, I've decided to clean and reorganize my flat. You know what that means:

DISASTAH HAS STRUCKEDED MAI HAUS!

And I have to go out and buy things. Like groceries. Wah! And do the ridiculous deposit/transfer shuffle required to pay my rent and stuff.

Wut worse!!!: have to change out of Lebowski uniform to do this crap.

Man, I probably even have to stop and put gas in my car.

Where does it all end???!!!!

~this post brought to you be ineffectual whining and general uselessness~