Monday, July 31, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 21

It's odd to see the Ninth Doctor in such oddly formal Victorian clothes, but I'm okay with that.

Have I mentioned how much I love this man?

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

But I don't even care about fashion!

I go through these weird phases of liking shows that aren't worth really watching--Flavor of Love, My Fair Brady,America's Next Top Model etc.--and wonder why I'm so endlessly fascinated at the visual car wrecks contained therein. It's not like any of these shows are going to make me smarter; quite the reverse, it would seem. And yet, like a moth to a flame, I cannot resist.

Hence, Project Runway.

I'm not entirely sure why this has become Must-See TV for me, but it sure has. Most of my friends will tell you that while I'm not too fashion-impaired, you don't yearn to deign me a fashionista in any sense. And can you imagine anything more boring than watching people sew? Apparently not. I stumbled across repeats of Season 2 a month or so ago on an idle Sunday afternoon, recovering from a staggering hangover. Somehow watching a bunch of bitchy would-be designers go at it with all the gusto of sharks fighting over a surfer was awesome. I became hooked. I loved everything--from the bad outfits to the egos to the slightly robotic Heidi Klum--and I loved watching it in marathon form. I was aghast when the very pretty Daniel Vosovic (the favored winner and one of the few gay men I would like to be a boy for a few hours with) lost to Chloe Dao; I anxiously awaited to see what bitchiness would exit Santino Rice's mouth. In other words, I enjoyed myself.

So now Season 3 is upon us and it's hard to watch it on a weekly basis. I want every single episode NOW. Unfortunately, the lot of would-be designers this year seem rather bland, and the one my friends and I thought was going to be the villain was already given the "Auf Weidershen" by Heidi. Alas, I shall continue to watch. I shall continue to give mad-ass props to Tim Gunn, who can cut those snotty fuckers down to size with less than two sentences.

All right. So maybe I need a hobby. Any suggestions?

Monday, July 24, 2006

I've got your fairy tale right here.

So the Favorite Scientologist and I braved our respective hangovers to see Lady in the Water (aka The Moist Tart) yesterday. And as it is my duty, I give you my review/opinion. Remember: Mama wuvs spoilers (not that are many to give away this time), so if you don't, you best be moving on.

Cleveland Heep is a sad-sack of a man who works as an apartment manager in a Philadelphia building. Immediately we are introduced to the building's wacky assortment of residents: the bodybuilder who only works out on side of his body, the gaggle of stoners, the inexplicably tall mouthy Korean girl, etc. Shyamalan insists on reinforcing just how kooky these people are just so we know that they may or may not be central to the story as it unfolds. Anyway, Heep finds himself embroiled in a real-life fairy tale when a young lady called Story saves him from drowning in the pool. Apparently this young lady, a sort of sea-nymph known as a "narf," is here to trigger an awakening for the benefit of mankind. In order to do that, she must find a writer (i.e., The Vessel) whose words will enable this, but she must also survive being menaced by a wolf-like creature known as a "scrunt." And if that weren't enough to make things already fairly convoluted, Story's story--which we get to hear translated only via the Korean girl's mother, something that became tedious really quickly--also needs to find: The Guild, The Symbolist, The Healer, The Protector. Are you tired yet? I am. Oh wait, did I mention the giant eagle? I didn't? Or how about the lawkeepers of Story's world, tree-monkey-things called Tartutics? Do you see how this movie is unnecessarily complicated?

Honestly, the film was better than I expected it to be, but it still felt so very contrived. Shyamalan tries to tell us a bedtime story but only ends up keeping us awake. There are too many threads in this one, so when he takes on the Herculean task of trying to make the actual fairy-tale and the roles the residents play in it feel magical, his sleight-of-hand doesn't succeed. There are genuine moments in this film, true: humor, pathos, and terror (there far too few of these, if you ask me). But on the whole, I feel he didn't accomplish what he set out to do. He made what should have been a simple too complex; he also seems to believe his own hype. (And I hadn't mentioned that Shyamalan had cast himself as The Vessel, the one whose book will remake the world. Such egotism!) I liked the movie but I recommend it with reservations. It isn't as magical as it should have been and that always disappoints.

On a lighter note, my new favorite show is Eureka on the Sci Fi Channel. It's funny, inventive, and clever. In other words, it is doomed.

Friday, July 21, 2006

What I want for my 30th birthday

Talk about dark, brooding, and misunderstood.

Talk about spontaneously combusting into lust.

Okay. No more talking.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 20

End of season two and Rose and the Doctor are separated forever.

"I love you."

"Quite right, too."

And before he can tell her he loves her too, the time vortex closes, thus dividing them for eternity. The Doctor sheds a tear.

I can feel my heart breaking again....

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Evil can be cute, too.

I really don't have a comment for this. I really don't.

Friday, July 07, 2006

We are some scooter crazy freaks.

Since I work around these guys--and they are some mental individuals, every last one of them--things have gotten weirder. Stranger. And cooler.

I think Haruku from FLCL is pretty much how I'm going to evolve over the next few weeks.


Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Remember this, yeah?

Queen Victoria did this, trying to protect you.

Still, hell, you get Captain Jack, you lucky UK bastards.

(P.S., you know I love you guys, right?)

Sunday, July 02, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 19

Sure, he's no Chris Eccleston, I still wouldn't kick this Scotsman--though pretending a proper city accent for this series--out of my bed.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

What have I done? What HAVE I done?

One of these days I am going to learn how not to act on impulse. I really really am.

One of these days I am just going to settle overseas and find myself a nice only marginally problematic Englishman.

One of these days I will learn from my mistakes.

One of these days I will think twice before kissing one of my co-workers in a bar all because we had a stupid argument about New Order.

One of these days I will wish that he hadn't kissed me first.

One of these days....