You are not legend. You are fishy. And dear god did they lay it on thick near the end.
I didn't even particularly like the reggae message, I see people who follow Bob Marley around obsessively to be as misguided and slightly pathetic as fishies themselves. But at least Bob Marley didn't publicly tell people to hate, ever*, and wasn't fictional.
Just let me fix the tally....Bob Marley 2, Jesus 0.
You could tell it was going to lean that way when they started praying. Praying is of course something lots of people like to do. However, I do question the valitidy of taking a moment out of your schedule to pray when zombies are coming to get you and you're trying for an 'emergency evacuation'. It would seem a better idea to me to say a silent prayer in your head. Saves time, and I'm sure invisible sky-daddy can still hear you.
I really want to type: They then lull you back into a false sense of security. But that makes it sound like A: I was offended by a little prayer, which isn't true and B: I need a nice shiney tinfoil hat, which would be nice, but I know the Jeebus radio waves aren't seeping into my brain. Just the CIA's.
Regardless, you forget about the prayer. They lay on the Marley message, and you go: yeah, he was a nice man, shame about the dead thing. Never mind, carry on with the zombies please.
But then! God starts actively speaking to people! From nowhere! The most random, non-plot-sense-making thing ever.
Obviously, this film was taken from a book. And I am sure in the book this plot-twist made sense. I'm sure it was explained in-depth and that character background was added. In the movie however, a random lady and her son show up, start spouting about Jebus, and then God speaks (in a surprisingly girly voice) directly to Will Smith. The entire point of this being in the movie seems to be: God is great! Hurrah! And not, look, its like Noah's flood, but with viruses and....well I really can't fathom why the man needs God to save humanity considering he has the antidote to the virus. Surely thats enough?
And why is paradise a church compound full of armed militias? I thought that was Waco.
Oh, that made me mad. However, Will Smith's performance is nothing short of stunning, and the movie up until the end is fantastic. Good with bad. But Jeez that was bad.
And the worst bit? Because I am Legend did not suck ass but The Golden Compass did the fishies will now use this as an excuse to say people want fish! Never mind your Dawkins and Hitchens, they want warm, fuzzy comfort with the chance of always being saved.
Which is true. But come on people!
*I don't know that much about Bob Marley, so if he did call people to arms let me know, I will re-adjust the tally.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
I am Fishy!
Oh! I love going on dates. Especially with gorgeous men in army uniform. Even more so when it involves going in to London, best city in the world damnit! (puts inappropriate civic pride in a drawer and locks it)
Can't wait until next Wednesday when the Shunt Lounge re-opens. My favourite place in London, my favourite man, alcohol and art. Hmmmmmmmm *sighs*
Regardless!
We went to Leicester Sq to go to one of the many many Odean's there. I should know by now that you don't go to Leicester Sq unless the man in question is quite rich. But hey, I see it as a test of gall. Not so much, how much are you prepared to pay but more, what is your reaction going to be when they tell you how much a ticket costs? Luckily for me MM was as smooth as can be.
Ok, I'm just going to restart this.
What I Want
Fuck face recently had to gall to tell me that I wanted our relationship to end on the terms that it did. Considering how it began, and how it ended, this required a lot of gall. It required gall on oceanic scales. I am still very mad about this.
So, here's a nice heart-felt list.
I wish you would have asked me when you thought I was cheating on you.
I wish I had yelled more, so you would know I was upset.
I wish your family had never liked me, so that I could tell you what was on my mind.
I wish you had never gotten the YourMove job, so I wouldn't have to hold in my breakdown to deal with yours.
I wish you wouldn't have ask me to sleep around.
I wish you wanted to do more with your life.
I REALLY wish you had never called my Dad 'mate', thus tearing a family apart.
I wish I could've noticed when you broke down my self-esteem with months of guilt tripping.
I wish I had had the balls to leave you earlier, then maybe we could have had a chance.
I wish you didn't have the worst luck in the world.
I wish your weight had stayed the same, not for me, I like my pillow, but so that your self-esteem could have come back.
I wish you knew what nuance was.
I wish that I didn't feel like shouting Bruckheimer every time I see the word, it makes me think of you.
I wish we had had more in common.
I wish you'd learn to talk.
I wish I'd have learnt to just ease the hell up on your grammer, its not that important.
I wish you would have just said: Yes, I watch porn. You're human, I knew
I wish I'd cried in front of you, or loud enough to wake you up.
I wish it was you, and not Jacko, who stopped me slitting my throat.
I really wish you hadn't got Benny in the breakup
I wish you didn't hate anything above your 'class'. There's nothing wrong with yuppie things, just don't be one!
I wish that when I hurt you you didn't just tell me about everything I missed out on because I'm such a bitch, because knowing you it would've all gone wrong and we would have cried anyway.
I wish you didn't have a temper which still gives me nightmares, so that I could talk to you without fearing for my safety.
I wish you didn't love Millwall.
I wish I didn't understand why you love Millwall.
I wish that I could get upset without going into total cold hearted bitch mode so that you'd know I wasn't doing anything for the specific reason of hurting you
I wish you gave 2 shits how my day went.
I wish B&Q didn't occupy so many of your thoughts.
I wish you'd just grow up! When something hits you, don't sit there and cry. FIGHT!
I wish you hadn't wanted me to be a child. My Dad might have been gone, but I didn't need another one.
I wish people wouldn't keep leaving you in a heartbreaking fashion, so you could realise that sometimes its ok. Just because they're gone doesn't mean you're going anywhere.
I wish I didn't have hurt you, and failing that, I wish I didn't have to see you hurt.
I wish I could still love you like you love me, but its impossible.
So there. Fuck you. "What I want."
So, here's a nice heart-felt list.
I wish you would have asked me when you thought I was cheating on you.
I wish I had yelled more, so you would know I was upset.
I wish your family had never liked me, so that I could tell you what was on my mind.
I wish you had never gotten the YourMove job, so I wouldn't have to hold in my breakdown to deal with yours.
I wish you wouldn't have ask me to sleep around.
I wish you wanted to do more with your life.
I REALLY wish you had never called my Dad 'mate', thus tearing a family apart.
I wish I could've noticed when you broke down my self-esteem with months of guilt tripping.
I wish I had had the balls to leave you earlier, then maybe we could have had a chance.
I wish you didn't have the worst luck in the world.
I wish your weight had stayed the same, not for me, I like my pillow, but so that your self-esteem could have come back.
I wish you knew what nuance was.
I wish that I didn't feel like shouting Bruckheimer every time I see the word, it makes me think of you.
I wish we had had more in common.
I wish you'd learn to talk.
I wish I'd have learnt to just ease the hell up on your grammer, its not that important.
I wish you would have just said: Yes, I watch porn. You're human, I knew
I wish I'd cried in front of you, or loud enough to wake you up.
I wish it was you, and not Jacko, who stopped me slitting my throat.
I really wish you hadn't got Benny in the breakup
I wish you didn't hate anything above your 'class'. There's nothing wrong with yuppie things, just don't be one!
I wish that when I hurt you you didn't just tell me about everything I missed out on because I'm such a bitch, because knowing you it would've all gone wrong and we would have cried anyway.
I wish you didn't have a temper which still gives me nightmares, so that I could talk to you without fearing for my safety.
I wish you didn't love Millwall.
I wish I didn't understand why you love Millwall.
I wish that I could get upset without going into total cold hearted bitch mode so that you'd know I wasn't doing anything for the specific reason of hurting you
I wish you gave 2 shits how my day went.
I wish B&Q didn't occupy so many of your thoughts.
I wish you'd just grow up! When something hits you, don't sit there and cry. FIGHT!
I wish you hadn't wanted me to be a child. My Dad might have been gone, but I didn't need another one.
I wish people wouldn't keep leaving you in a heartbreaking fashion, so you could realise that sometimes its ok. Just because they're gone doesn't mean you're going anywhere.
I wish I didn't have hurt you, and failing that, I wish I didn't have to see you hurt.
I wish I could still love you like you love me, but its impossible.
So there. Fuck you. "What I want."
Bank Tellers shouldn't judge
I should probably preface this by saying that I am poor. Not, live in a dilapidated flat poor, but shop at iceland and skip train fares poor none-the-less. At least on the surface. Technically I'm richer than most people on the planet what with the total debt I've amassed in my short life being £500.
What this means is that occasionally I go in to the bank do withdraw 50p. Not because I'm desperate, just because I want a packet of crisps and that is all the money I'll have in my account until next week and hey! 50ps don't fall out of cash machines.
Usually I will just make a quick quip about being a lucky lottery winner fallen from grace, or just kiss the money and act like they've just handed me a puppy. Strange and slightly creepy though that may sound it usually goes down quite well.
So! Went in to my local bank the other day and, handing the lady my card and passport proclaimed: I would like all the available balance in my account!
The sullen looking 20 year old hands me a slip showing that I am overdrawn. Luckily for me I have a nice overdraft which doesn't charge me interest. Being paid weekly means its never left overdrawn for long. Me and the bank have this understanding, I signed a contract along those lines. The teller knows this. She should also know that I just asked for all the available balance in my account. Failing some sort of amnesia or selective hearing (in which case why shove the receipt at me?) I just told her, she knows.
"Oh yes! I know, all of my available balance please."
"You're overdrawn"
"Yes, but there should be about £100 available for me to take out."
"But you're overdrawn."
Cue about 20 seconds of awkward staring in which I am very tempted to say: Oh! My apologies madam. Due to the fact its January, the worst month in the financial calender, and I am trying to take a measely £100 out of an account which is well balanced, I must be some sort of financial harlot! I'll just go re-mortgage my house with another subprime like the rest of the population shall I?
Eventually the silence breaks and she begrudgingly hands me my £100.
"Could I have an envelope with that please?"
"I only have this one"
She brought out a tatty, used envelope with the branch's address on it. This was obviously send in by someone with gloucoma its so ugly.
It would have taken her 3 seconds to lean over to the next teller and give me a nice, fresh, specifically designed for money envelope. It would have saved her a good 20 seconds of being stared at to just give me my damn money. Hell, she wouldn't have even had to give me a stern warning about being overdrawn.
Bank tellers, I love you, but judging is not in the job description. If you'd like to silently judge the general public, become a Texpert.
What this means is that occasionally I go in to the bank do withdraw 50p. Not because I'm desperate, just because I want a packet of crisps and that is all the money I'll have in my account until next week and hey! 50ps don't fall out of cash machines.
Usually I will just make a quick quip about being a lucky lottery winner fallen from grace, or just kiss the money and act like they've just handed me a puppy. Strange and slightly creepy though that may sound it usually goes down quite well.
So! Went in to my local bank the other day and, handing the lady my card and passport proclaimed: I would like all the available balance in my account!
The sullen looking 20 year old hands me a slip showing that I am overdrawn. Luckily for me I have a nice overdraft which doesn't charge me interest. Being paid weekly means its never left overdrawn for long. Me and the bank have this understanding, I signed a contract along those lines. The teller knows this. She should also know that I just asked for all the available balance in my account. Failing some sort of amnesia or selective hearing (in which case why shove the receipt at me?) I just told her, she knows.
"Oh yes! I know, all of my available balance please."
"You're overdrawn"
"Yes, but there should be about £100 available for me to take out."
"But you're overdrawn."
Cue about 20 seconds of awkward staring in which I am very tempted to say: Oh! My apologies madam. Due to the fact its January, the worst month in the financial calender, and I am trying to take a measely £100 out of an account which is well balanced, I must be some sort of financial harlot! I'll just go re-mortgage my house with another subprime like the rest of the population shall I?
Eventually the silence breaks and she begrudgingly hands me my £100.
"Could I have an envelope with that please?"
"I only have this one"
She brought out a tatty, used envelope with the branch's address on it. This was obviously send in by someone with gloucoma its so ugly.
It would have taken her 3 seconds to lean over to the next teller and give me a nice, fresh, specifically designed for money envelope. It would have saved her a good 20 seconds of being stared at to just give me my damn money. Hell, she wouldn't have even had to give me a stern warning about being overdrawn.
Bank tellers, I love you, but judging is not in the job description. If you'd like to silently judge the general public, become a Texpert.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Sarah Lawrence
The application is in. Stupidly, it was the only one I made thinking that I had until January 15th to submit.
5 weeks, 4 days. Oh the nervosness and lack of nicotine are going to kill me.
5 weeks, 4 days. Oh the nervosness and lack of nicotine are going to kill me.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Lisa Tarbuck is on to me
I thought I should probably elaborate on the 'Lisa Tarbuck is a horrible bitch' theme which ended my last post. I am having troubles with this though as there is a naked man lying next to me. Even though he's asleep I still want to....
Yes! So, this naked man, MM, hurrah! Slightly less fun in the naked men department is my ex (baptised Fuckface, or FF, by my mother). Who has taken it upon himself to print out every lavacious email I've ever sent, regardless of whether we were together at the times it was sent or not, and put them in a nice folder for me to read. Then! Has decided that this wasn't creepy enough. We were 'meant to be together' and for gods sakes can't I see that if someone is invading my privacy like that it means that they care about me? 'I have a ring that's just itching to get back on your finger'
Its slightly scary watching someone depart from reality. Especially someone you cared about for so long.
So let us say that songs about relationships ending are not songs I want to listen to. Nor are songs about how depressed someone is because they're alone, or anything really who's music reads: 40 = quaver dolce.
This is all the woman plays. Add to that her theme of the show is usually something obviously aimed at the easily frightened audiences. Mark needs some advice for a first date! Why is Caroline alone? Why not listen to this man bend balloons whilst I go: Ohhhh! For a while?
By the end of her show if you were not already depressed about something one of the songs would have gotten you. And then when you were trying to claw your way out of said depressed with some sort of amusing banter you'd hear: Now everyone get their sweets out! Yes, now.. eat! Followed by 12 callers asking permission to open whichever sweets were available, which will cause you to lose faith in human kinds artistic and intellectual progress. And as you raise the gun to your head you will hear: Oh! It's very hard to describe over the radio...
*bang*
Yes! So, this naked man, MM, hurrah! Slightly less fun in the naked men department is my ex (baptised Fuckface, or FF, by my mother). Who has taken it upon himself to print out every lavacious email I've ever sent, regardless of whether we were together at the times it was sent or not, and put them in a nice folder for me to read. Then! Has decided that this wasn't creepy enough. We were 'meant to be together' and for gods sakes can't I see that if someone is invading my privacy like that it means that they care about me? 'I have a ring that's just itching to get back on your finger'
Its slightly scary watching someone depart from reality. Especially someone you cared about for so long.
So let us say that songs about relationships ending are not songs I want to listen to. Nor are songs about how depressed someone is because they're alone, or anything really who's music reads: 40 = quaver dolce.
This is all the woman plays. Add to that her theme of the show is usually something obviously aimed at the easily frightened audiences. Mark needs some advice for a first date! Why is Caroline alone? Why not listen to this man bend balloons whilst I go: Ohhhh! For a while?
By the end of her show if you were not already depressed about something one of the songs would have gotten you. And then when you were trying to claw your way out of said depressed with some sort of amusing banter you'd hear: Now everyone get their sweets out! Yes, now.. eat! Followed by 12 callers asking permission to open whichever sweets were available, which will cause you to lose faith in human kinds artistic and intellectual progress. And as you raise the gun to your head you will hear: Oh! It's very hard to describe over the radio...
*bang*
Friday, January 4, 2008
Dear god you've run out of ideas
Well, spam has once again returned to normal. I was greeted today by:
Dear friend,
I needed to contact you; it's due to a business
valued at $44,500,000 in my bank.
If you are interested, email me via this email:
chchiyun5@yahoo.com.tw
Mr.Chin
Its nice sometimes when you know where you stand.
On the other hand I was listening to Lisa Tarbuck earlier today. The woman is obviously either completely incompetent or just depressed out of her vacant head. The music selection is enough to push even emo kids over the edge. Unfortunately for me, I've been unable to charge my iPod. Its Lisa Tarbuck, radio five live (racist, mysogynistic, misinformed pundits all round!) or question time for gardeners.
But a new low was acheived today! A balloon shaper, on radio. This equates half an hour of squeaky noises and Mr Tarbuck saying: Its very pretty! Its hard to describe on radio.
The logic escapes me....
Dear friend,
I needed to contact you; it's due to a business
valued at $44,500,000 in my bank.
If you are interested, email me via this email:
chchiyun5@yahoo.com.tw
Mr.Chin
Its nice sometimes when you know where you stand.
On the other hand I was listening to Lisa Tarbuck earlier today. The woman is obviously either completely incompetent or just depressed out of her vacant head. The music selection is enough to push even emo kids over the edge. Unfortunately for me, I've been unable to charge my iPod. Its Lisa Tarbuck, radio five live (racist, mysogynistic, misinformed pundits all round!) or question time for gardeners.
But a new low was acheived today! A balloon shaper, on radio. This equates half an hour of squeaky noises and Mr Tarbuck saying: Its very pretty! Its hard to describe on radio.
The logic escapes me....
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