While dealing daily with Malificent and ALL THE POWERS OF HELL, I sometimes catch myself wondering. . . . what would Buffy do?
I know, I know, she died. Twice. But she came back.
Color me funky. I never liked Angel. I liked Spike.
As an old lady I should advocate Angel but I’ve never been typical. Spike.
It’s sad, isn’t it. To look for advice and examples from a fictional character from a tv show that I actually watched only twice in my life.
But I didn’t really have to watch it. I got all the information from Belle; she is a walking encyclopedia of cool trivia. (The musical was awesome, though. Too bad the concept was stolen and used and corrupted by bad writers and worse actors.)
So anyway. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Somehow, she manages to defeat the forces of evil that confound her at every turn. Buffy the phoenix. Crumbling into ashes, through no fault of her own. Rising from the ashes, falling, and rising again.
Spike.
Yes. This is my life.
Except for the “Spike” part.
“Sleeping Beauty” is my favorite animated Disney movie. A close second: “Beauty and the Beast.” Third: “Cinderella.”
Even now, I still dream about them. The prince usually looks like Spike, though. Or Colin Firth. Sometimes, Liam.
I do not like violent movies, with explosions and torture and death and horny spies and suspenseful hijackings and blood and guts and fighting, etc. I like romantic comedies and snarky blistering satire. And Star Wars. And my movies MUST have a good ending.
My real life contains enough insecurities; I do not need to watch anybody on the screen meet a lumber truck ending.
That’s what Belle and I call an unexpected bad ending. We named it after the way Meg Ryan was nailed by that lumber truck in “City of Angels,” just when her life had finally come together in a positive way. And then out of the blue, the lumber truck got her.
“Message in a Bottle?” Lumber truck.
These past few years, I’ve gone to MovieSpoilers before I watch a movie, so I’ll know in advance if my nerves can take it or not.
If I’ve read the book, I don’t worry about being horrified. Although probably I should, because people who adapt books to movies are often idiots, absolute idiots, who care nothing about the book’s plotline or the fans who love it. Idiots.
I’m worried about the next Harry Potter film, because I’ve read that they’ve cut the Dursleys completely out, and how can it start without those awesome scenes in the Dursley house?
It’s bad enough they cut Madame Hooch.
Are they worried that the movie will be too long? Dear incredibly stupid movie person, a Harry Potter movie CAN’T be too long. We want it ALL on the screen, every detail from the book. We know that the average person doesn’t want to sit for six hours in a theater but HP fans are not average people and we would do it, and pay extra for the privilege. You blithering money-grubbing book-murdering ass.
Whose money do you want the most? Average-or-below people with short attention spans, or vastly superior people who want the whole thing on film?
I guess we all know the answer to that question.
It’s a shame that there are more of the first kind, than of the second. Sigh. Money talks.
Friday is my day off. It’s after two in the afternoon and I’m still wearing my ratty red nightgown and my bed-hair is making with that attractive Einstein look.
Dear heaven, don’t you all wish you were here with me?
If you ever do come over, I promise I’ll take a shower and put on real clothes.
Oh, honestly, I do those things anyway. I’m getting to it, I’m GETTING to it.
Hub will be home in two hours and by then I’ll be presentable. He’ll never know.
When the kids were little, I learned really fast that if I didn’t take care of myself before they got up, it wouldn’t get done. I guess old habits die hard.
I’ll rationalize today’s slovenly look with that theory.