...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

I went to see Fright Night yesterday. FAILED SO HARD, you guys. I think Colin Farrell and I are now on the path to major, final breakup. The dialogue wasn't funny or clever, the comedic timing was way off (and jesus, you have the Tenth Doctor, the star of In Bruges, and Red Mist all playing major roles, how do you get all three of them to somehow not be hilarious?) there was no plot to speak of and basically everyone was a complete window-licking dullard. Also, Jerry semephored that he was a vampire so hard, that even if you were the kind of person who automatically discounts "oh, he's a vampire" as an explanation for neighbour-based weirdness, you would still think he was a massive creeposaurus.

Also, Colin Farrell's vampire form was this massive fake-head thing that make him look like the kid from Battle Dib. Every time he turned into it, part of me was expecting him to start screaming "SHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNKKKK!" and beating Jailbait Chekov with an over-sized cotton wool bud. The only bits that raised a smile was whenever Jerry got really badly injured, he would do this weird "epilectic on meth" seizure dance thing.

At least it was only an hour and a half long. Even so, it felt like marathoning all three extended editions of Lord of the Rings back-to-back, except for the bit where Lord of the Rings was entertaining. What a waste of talent - in the time they used filming this piece of shit, Colin Farrell and David Tennant could have made one decent film each. That's two decent films that will never get made now. Red Mist and Jailbait Chekov could probably have made something less epicly retarded.

And yes, this is coming from someone who rates Lost Boys 3: the Thirst as a solid three out of five. Well done, Colin Farrell - you just rated lower than a straight-to-video Corey Feldman movie. You must be so proud.

There was a trailer for this new Hugh Jackman movie that appears to be about Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots. I do not understand. Tintin looks shit, the Puss in Boots movie looks superfluous, and for some reason Disney is showing the Lion King in 3D and marketing it as "for the first time ever!" Christ, just admit that you've run out of ideas, Disney. Paranormal Whatever 3 looks like an over-long cut of the Bloody Mary episode of Supernatural, and the new Sherlock Holmes movie looks alright.

In other news, I have been catching up on Carnivale - the creepiest thing about Evander Geddes isn't that he suffocates little kids with plaster of paris just so he can take casts of their death agonies - it's that bit where he explains to Ben that his objective is "to capture the soul". Because in Carnivale, that is TOTALLY FEASIBLE. Urgh!

I have been watching the Shield, too - thus far, I rate it "quite good." Possibly I will write more when I know people's names. So far all I know is CCH Pounder, who is in everything. She is a police lady. She does police things. Her partner is kind of a spaz, but is quite good at detectoring. There is a bald man. The bald man is basically in charge. He has three little friends who are like his Crime Army. There's another dude who I think is supposed to be in charge, but everyone hates him and likes the bald man best. The other dude is pretty sour about it. CCH Pounder and her spaz-detecting friend don't seem to care either way - they just like to detect stuff. I don't know. I might be wrong.

OH MY GOD, Generation Kill, you guys! Is that not the gayest thing ever? I am no longer even a little bit fazed by the idea of Eric from True Blood and Ziggy from the Wire being epicly gay for each other. I'm reading porn for it right now in another window, and I totally don't care that this is the computer Mama Froodle uses for work. I might just save it on her favourites list so she can enjoy it later.

ALSO! Why is there not a TV series of Daddy Winchester's character from Watchmen just going around shooting and raping and burning people and being awesome and beautiful and unconcerned about it? I feel this would be an excellent thing to have. If they can't get the rights to the Comedian, they should just give Jeffrey Dean Morgan a bullshit name and a gun and lots of leather and send him off to do Comedian-like things on camera and avoid paying royalties. COME ON OH GOD I WOULD WATCH IT EVERY WEEK AND BUY THE DVD WHEN IT CAME OUT! Even if it was an HBO thing where the DVDs are ridiculously expensive, I WOULD PAY FOR IT! PROBABLY ALMOST FULL-PRICE! MAYBE! IF I HAD VOUCHERS FOR HMV OR SOMETHING!

Oh, the ending of Avatar is also quite epicly gay. I would be more enthusiastic but compared to DADDY WINCHESTER SHOOTING A PREGNANT WOMAN FROM PURE GROUCHINESS it loses its splendour. Sorry, Zuko. You are just not grouchy enough for me.

Also, was I the only one who got a mental image of Colin Farrel yelling "Of course it does! The Vietnamese!" every time it showed Daddy Winchester in Vietnam? Colin Farrel knows everything. Stupid Canadians and racist dwarves should pay attention to his wisdom.

Anyway, I'm going to go work on the script for the pilot episode of EDDIE BLAKE: THE SERIES, which will be beautiful and coming soon to a television screen near you, though possibly under a non-copyright-infringing name. Probably you should all start petitioning HBO to pick it up.

OH FUCK OFF HEROES! I don't even know why I watch you anymore, you Pasdarless piece of shit. Having ripped off pretty much everything it could from the 4400, it's moved on to stealing wholesale from both BSG and Carnivale, except for the part where all of those shows were actually good and had storylines that made sense and characters you gave a damn about. Seriously, they've even got Tommy Dolan playing Sampson- oh, I'm sorry, "Samuel" - and sir, you are no Micheal Anderson. Also mean imaginary friend Sylar is not as badass as Clancy Brown and House-of-Mirrors spends-most-of-an-episode-crying-like-a-big-gay-baby Sylar is about a hundred million times less lovely than Nick Stahl. So in conclusion, I hate everyone and I'm going to watch Carnivale.

I think they should start stealing from Deadwood and then Ian McShane could guest-star and systematically slit everyones throats before feeding them to Mister Wu's piggies. COCKSUCKERS!

Dudes, I have just seen not one but two of the most marvellous movies I had never heard of before this weekend: Weirdsville, in which a group of preppy Satantists get curb-stomped by a quartet of mace-wielding midgets in medieval battle gear, and Wasting Away, in which a talking severed head leads a group of zombie bowling enthusiasts on a quest to found the Undead Holy Land. Quotes of utter joy include "Oh, this is all my fault! If I had a body I wouldn't have fallen out of the damn truck!" "Do you think Mexican brains are spicy?" and "Brain margheritas?"

Also, for extra comedic value, the lead midget in Weirdsville is the same midget that got karate-chopped by Colin Farrell in In Bruges, and the severed head in Wasting Away is the dude who played the soldier that was completely in love with Colin Farrell's character in Tigerland.

Clearly this proves that Colin Farrell is at the epicentre of everything that is good and pure in this life.

Dudes, I have just had the most EPIC idea about how Heroes can effectively attone for Nathangate - as with everything beautiful, it naturally involves Colin Farrell, debauchery and just a little bit of manly violence.

See, with Claude either dead or in hiding, and Adam... well, I don't want to talk about Adam, but let's just say he will not be around anymore... Heroes needs a new character to bring the UK-based snark for which we are so justly renowned. Enter Colin Farrell, reeling from whiskey and stinking of sex, to mortally offend/wound/sexify everyone he comes across.

His first act will be making Peter cry by dismissing his prophetic drawings as "rubbish by spastics," then following that up by headbutting Sylar when he tries to take his ability (which, by the way, is never actually revealed to the audience) breaking his nose and possibly done while yelling something along the lines of "Telekinesis? No, don't bother!"*

Having effectively demonstrated that even Claire's healing abilities are no match for Colin Farrell, our soon-to-be fan favourite then avails himself of Sylar's wallet, Watch of Evilness and any spare booze he might have on his person before putting the boot in a couple of times and fleeing into the night, while the world's lamest super-powered serial killer is curled up in fetal agony on the floor. At which point Mama Petrelli shows up and points out that which we have always known, that Sylar is such a disappointment that he really could be one of the Petrelli boys after all.

Anyway, while Daddy Bennet and the Haitian are dispatched to track down Colin and recruit him into the latest incarnation of the Company/the Initiative/the Brotherhood of Mutants/whatever, Sylar and Peter put aside their mutual animosity in order to form the We Hate Colin Farrell club, and pinky-swear to eradicate him from the world once and for all. Later, Bennet will join their quest when it emerges that Colin has seduced Claire, Lyle, Sandra, Mr Muggles, the Haitian and his horn-rimmed glasses, leaving him alone and unable to read small print in the world.

*In my book, sorry, someone comes at you with telekinesis, that is a deadly weapon, he's gotta take the consequences. That's almost as bad as knowing karate or trying to hit you with a bottle.

Well dudes, I am writing this on a windy Sunday morning, sitting on a penthouse balcony overlooking all of Leeds and fighting the urge - no doubt caused by having watched the Goonies at a tender age - to make puking noises and then pour some gross shit over the people walking below me.

The Family von Froodle has descended upon Yorkshire and rather than make an ill-advised attempt to cram more than one person and three rabbits into my homey hovel, we have rented a top-floor apartment in the Chambers in Park Place.

And dudes, it is epic. When you walk in, the foyer is all marblelicious and there's "tasteful" displays of modern art in all the alcoves (note: these are not alcoves suitable for hidin' when employed in the killin' of dudes, these are alcoves for the tasteful displayin' of tasteful modern art) and there's a twenty-four hour concierge service and, dudes, if you want a DVD or some groceries or whatever, you just ring down to reception and they go and get it for you! How awesome is that!

And the apartment itself is even more awesome - it's got floor to ceiling windows on all the outside walls, and a balcony that runs all the way around and has blue spotlights in the floor that you can turn on at night, and sliding doors in each room that open on to the balcony and one of those jzacuzzi-baths and hardwood floors and lights in the wardrobe that come on when you open the door and a TV in the bathroom.

And oh, my God, the TVs! They are so big, I think they are giving me AIDS. AIDS causes you to want to steal stuff, right? I was watching SGA last night (on DVD, but it was my DVD that I brought with me, not a DVD I randomly made the reception dude run out and get for me because that would make me feel uncomfortable and jerklike) and, okay, Joe Flannigan and Major Lorne are beautiful even on my small old-school piece of shit TV, but in 40-inch hi-def with surround sound, their combined beauty is enough to melt your face.

I always make fun of James for working ridiculously long hours, figuring that nothing could make a seventy-hour week worthwhile, but when I see this place, how some people live, I can understand it a little bit better. Don't get me wrong, my character flaws are such that I am a lot more lazy than I am materialistic, but I do get it a bit now.

Anyway, we went to see Dreamboats and Petticoats on Friday and it was marvellous - it's about this dude who enters a song-writing competition, and his writing partner is in love with him, only he is in love with this slutty hot chick, who is in love with this slutty hot guy who, and this is the most important thing, was played by a total bargin basement Jensen Ackles. And it was all set in the fifties and there were awesome old-school rock and roll songs and those beautiful circle dresses and it was made of win. And! Nobody even died or exploded or shot some dudes, and I still loved it, so that should tell you how great it was.

Anyway, Mama Froodle just got out of the shower so I'm going to put the laptop aside and go see what the plan is for the rest of the day. Later days!

Right, because all of you except chibimarchy are losers, there is only one answer for the meme I did a couple of weeks ago. Seriously you guys, epic fail.

The list of fifteen names was:

Lucas Buck (American Gothic)
Dr Matt (American Gothic)
Ray (In Bruges)
Todd (Stargate Atlantis)
Jake Green (Jericho)
Ben Hawkins (Carnivale)
Agent Booth (Bones)
Sweeney Todd (Sweeney Todd)
David (Lost Boys)
Micheal (Lost Boys)
KC (the Tribe)
Ebony (the Tribe)
Jordan Collier (4400)
Paul Avery (Zodiac)
Don Eppes (Numb3rs)

And the one and only question was:

You decide to pair two and eleven in a super-hot smut fic. Where does the 'action' take place?

I would like to point out for the record that I would never, ever write Dr Matt/Ebony, as that is sick and wrong even for me, but if I was going to, it would go something like this:

After Megas' bioweapon renders the City uninhabitable, Ebony, sick of Amber and Trudy always stealing her menfolk, decides to strike out on her own. She makes her way to Trinity, which has escaped the Virus unscathed (as Lucas and Merlyn do not hold with plagues they didn't bring about themselves). Being Ebony, she immediately sizes up the power structure in town and, with Selina sullying herself with Dr Billy, makes herself Lucas's newest go-to wench.

Meanwhile Caleb, prompted by Merlyn, has left Trinity and thrown in his lot with some South Carolinian tribesters. Lucas, faced with the prospect of handing his mantle over to the Gailbaby, is trying to locate him and drag him back by force. He suspects Dr Matt knows where Caleb is, but Dr Matt is still pretty pissed about being thrown into the Crazy House for Boys and isn't saying jack. So he dispatches Ebony on some mission-of-mercy-come-femme-fatale-seduction-fest in an effort to wheedle the information out of him. Hot sex ensues against the padded walls of Dr Matt's crazy-cell.

I don't know what happens after that, but it probably ends with Lucas and Ebony engaging in an all-out power struggle for control of Trinity. They'd be pretty evenly matched - Lucas has the power to make things happen, and Ebony, well... she's Ebony.

Aww fuck, you guys, I think I just permanantly destroyed Batman Begins for myself by watching it right after I watched Breakfast on Pluto. And for once it's completely my own fault, because I've seen both of them multiple times so I can't claim I was tricked into watching or anything. Now every time Dr Crane gases anyone, I keep seeing that scene from BoP where he imagines himself as an undercover counter-terrorist agent, complete with black PVC minidress and flashing a bright yellow bra, and he neutralizes all the bombers by spraying Chanel perfume* in their eyes, and it just destroys me.

In other news, I have decided to invent some kind of coolness scale where characters are awarded points based on the liklihood of them karate-chopping a midget. It'll look something like this:

Karate-chopping a midget: 10 coolpoints
Doing harm to a midget other than by karate-chopping it: 5 coolpoints
Not doing anything mean to a midget: 0 coolpoints
A midget karate-chops you: minus 10,000 coolpoints

I decided to test it out on a random selection and it works pretty well, as shown below:

Jack Bauer: would karate-chop a midget: 10 points.
Sweeney Todd: would cut a midget's throat and make it into pie: 5 points
Al Swearengen: as above, except replace "make it into pie" with "feed to Mister Wu's piggies": 5 points
Edward James Olmos: would shout or glare at a regular midget; only karate-chops midgets if they are Cylons: 7.5 points
Methos: doesn't know karate, but from a moral perspective, would have no problem karate-chopping a midget: 10 points, because he can always learn later.
The Dave: unable to bring himself to harm a midget: 0 points.
Giles: would karate-chop a midget, then fire-bomb its house, but only if the midget really pushed him to it: 10 points
Nathan Petrelli: no qualms about karate-chopping a midget whatsoever: 10 points
Angela Petrelli: would belittle the midget so much it karate-chopped itself: 10 points
Peter Petrelli: gets karate-chopped by the midget. Everyone laughs. Minus 10,000 points.
Agent Sands: if he still has eyes, karate-chops the midget; if not, shoots the midget after locating it by the sound of it's tiny midget feet: 10 points, because the intention is there if not the physical ability.
Moominpapa: doesn't know karate, and anyway has tiny Moomin arms unsuitable for midget-chopping. Would probably write a chapter in his Memoirs about how he karate-chopped it anyway: 5 points for inventiveness.
Mark Cohen from RENT: gets karate-chopped by the midget. Minus 10,000 points.
Idina Menzel, in anything: karate-chops that midget and makes it cry little midget tears. 10 points.
Akio Ohtori: karate-chops the midget, steals its fine midget hos, then runs the midget down in the Akiocar. 10 points.
Stringer Bell: karate-chops the midget only if economically viable. Otherwise, arranges to have it gunned down in a drive-by. 7.5 points.
Oogie Boogie: karate-chops the midget, sings a song about it: 10 points
Ben Hawkins: karate-chops a midget, spends three episodes angsting about it. 9.5 points, as he gets half a point deduction for angst.
Don Eppes: pre-The Bunk, karate-chops that midget and takes a suspension. Post-The Bunk, tries to work out his differences with the midget, then gets Lou Diamond Phillips to karate-chop it for him instead. 7.5 points.
Harvey Dent: gets karate-chopped by a midget, cries like a bitch. Ditto Two-Face, but with half as many tears. Minus 20,000 points because both personalities fail.

I call it the Froodilicus Scale of Karate-Chopped Midgets. Obviously you can't rely on it entirely - for example, Brennan would have no problem karate-chopping a midget whereas The Dave would, but clearly The Dave is clearly cooler than Brennan. But as a rough guide, it's pretty accurate.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm thinking of buying a new storage unit as the number of books, DVDs and random crap in my house has once again reached critical mass. At the moment I am torn between this and this. On the one hand, the cabinet gives me much more storage space and as it's got glass shelves, I can put my models and suchlike in there and not have to worry about dusting them. On the other hand, it's white and white wooden furniture always makes me feel like I'm trapped in a John Hughes movie circa 1984. Comments? Suggestions?

Oh, and finally, and having nothing to do with anything discussed above: MOAR ZODIAC PORN PLZ. That is all.

*For the record, given that pretty much every Chanel product smells like catpiss, I think it would be very effective as a weapon used either by or against terrorists. I know if you sprayed it on me, I'd be too busy choking and retching to even think about blowing stuff up until I'd had a shower.

Okay, I just finished watching the second season of Heroes, and I will at least semi-retract all the snarky comments I made about Sylar being a complete 'tard in terms of villiany. I mean, he's still pretty much a whiny little bitch in an alpha-male body, and he certainly doesn't stand up to time-honoured villians of awesome such as Angelus and the Mayor*, but ( Read more... )

Also, I really do not care if Adam/Kensei/whatever is evil or not, because he is hi-lariously awesome and completely wins at drunkenness and sucker-punching folk and generally being suave and English and not crying about everything like a big fucking loser, and that makes a man rise very high in my estimation. Not to mention the fact that if it wasn't for him, ( Read more... )

Hmm, I thought I had more to say here, but probably talking about the hotness of Nathan has driven any other thoughts out of my mind, so I'll leave it here.

*For the record, he can't karate-chop midgets either, but I'm pretty sure that is a super-power unique to Colin Farrel, so I won't bitch.

Man, I am going to have no money at all in October. I just got the email from Amazon giving me the release date for Iron Man as the 27th, there's already a ton of stuff I want that gets released then, plus it's Halloween so I'll spend shitloads on decorations and food shaped like bats and stuff. I guess I could offer to do some overtime at work, but frankly double and even triple time is not enough to get me to set foot in that hellhole when I don't absolutely have to.

Incidentally, I know at least one of you is going to suggest I just don't buy everything I want as soon as it comes out, so let me pre-empt you by saying: shut up, stop hanging around on LJ giving out useless advice, and go and watch In Bruges.

Which, by the way, is so awesome that I am watching it again right now, and I only came on LJ to share what is officially my favourite line in a movie that is entirely comprised of favourite lines: "Ken, I grew up in Dublin. I love Dublin. If I grew up on a farm, and was retarded, Bruges might impress me but I didn't, so it doesn't." I'd like to say I will use a variation on this at every opportunity, but it doesn't work for me as a) the island I grew up on is pretty much one giant sheep-fucking farm surrounded by ocean and b) although I am not myself retarded, pretty much everyone else there was. And is. So it doesn't really fit.

Fortunately, my second-favourite line in the entire film, "I believe, Ken, that the balance shall tip in the favor of culture, like a big fat fucking retarded fucking black girl on a see-saw opposite...a dwarf" is good for pretty much all occaisons. Or it will be, once I have perfected the art of bringing scale-tipping into every conversation I shall ever have.