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June 1st, 2004

Tuesday hodge-podge post

Some people [glances over shoulder at the Minion Keith] like to collect fantasy baseball teams. But my fictional team of all-stars is a little more practical. I'm not out to win the World Series, I'm looking to survive the apocalypse. With this in mind, my sure-fire, gonna-live-through-the-zombies/nuclear winter/alien invasion team of bad-assedry is presently championed by Ving Rhames and Ron Perlman, but as much as it deeply pains me, I may have to add Vin Diesel to complete the trifecta.

Lemme 'splain. I loathe Vin Diesel. He looked like an idiot in Triple X (WHERE was this man's agent when the wardrobe people busted out the fluffy coat?), he was a mindless goober in that lame street racing movie, and he's got all the acting range of Orlando Bloom on quaaludes--but without the saving grace of good hair.

Anyway. The other day moriarty6 and I were catching some new movie and we were graced by a preview for an upcoming science-fiction flick ... a science fiction flick that looks just about pretty freaking awesome until Vin Diesel's battered-looking mug leers forth from the screen. "Oh NO," quoth I. "That looked pretty cool for a minute, there."

Later, it came to our attention that the upcoming CGI-fest The Chronicles of Riddick is a sequel to Pitch Black, a lesser-known genre movie from a few years back. Although I enjoy these sorts of movies, I'd never gotten around to catching PB--so I did not immediately leap up and get my Fandango-finger ready to buy Riddick tickets. But by way of mending this gap in our pop culture education, Jym and I rented Pitch Black and watched it over the weekend.

I won't go into a full review here, as the movie came out back in 2000 and most of you either (a). saw it ages ago or (b). couldn't care less about it. But the plot is not complicated, and I can probably sum it up in a sentence or two: a passenger ship that also happens to be transporting a vaguely-defined "violent criminal" (Vin Diesel, hereafter abbreviated "VD") crash-lands on a distant planet with three suns that inexplicably line up to form a nasty eclipse once every 22 years, and when it gets dark nasty bug alien things come out and eat you. VD speaks in intimidating, poorly-enunciated monosyllables and eventually helps a couple members of the original party make it to safety, though everyone else gets devoured by the light-hating bug aliens of DOOM.

And, um, I really liked it. About halfway through this flick, I found myself sloshing wine around and swearing, "Dammit, I had BETTER not come out on the other side of this movie as a Vin Diesel fan, because then I would have to disembowel myself with a spork." Therefore, I am NOT saying that I am now a VD fan, but I will--under duress--admit that I sort of liked him as Riddick, and I might go catch TCOR when it comes out. I may not respect myself in the morning, but such is the price of easy entertainment.

So, yeah. Though Pitch Black wasn't exactly a study in genric innovation, it was a cool way to spend a couple of hours--and it is altogether possible that VD actually contributed to the coolness of this movie. Hey, no one is more surprised than me. Therefore, based on his performance as Riddick--and pending my approval of his role in TCOR--VD is officially nominated to my post-apocalyptic survival team. Of doom.

* * * * *

And now, to cleanse the aesthetic palate, a kitty picture:

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For those of you (like myself) who live in a cultural backwater and were unable to acquire a copy of the Locus wherein I got a teeny blurb, you can go here and get the general gist. Also, speaking of my impending writing career, I finished my first runthrough of the manuscript this weekend; and although I've not yet composed any significant new material (i.e., new chapters), I have added fully 9000+ words to the thing. How embarrassing.

Anyway, next step: 2 new chapters, already neatly laid out and ready to go.
With a little luck, I might be finished with them before the end of this next weekend.

* * * * *

Last thing, I promise.
My sister and her husband took/posted pictures of my cousin's wedding.
Some of you out there in reader-land know these people IRL, and if so, this link might interest you. If not, carry on. I'm not in any of the pictures, so, well, you know. Who cares?

Okay. Off to be productive.

Jun. 1st, 2004

I'm at home right now.

Perhaps I should have gone ahead and found my way back to work once my car was returned to me around 4:00 this afternoon, but I smell like the ass-end of a bus, I'm covered with sweat and car grease, and I'm nearly 400 bucks poorer than I began this Tuesday.

Also, I am brimming with hatred, rage, self-pity and hunger.

The hatred, rage, and self-pity I'm going to medicate by taking care of the hunger. I've got half a Boston Cream Pie and a bottle of Stewart's Key Lime soda, and I'm going to go curl up in bed with theses two things, a big fat spoon, and a Cosmopolitan, because I hate everything.

I'll tell you about it tomorrow.

well ... it made ME laugh

my boyfriend, on the many faces of Orlando Bloom:
[simulates the sound of whizzing projectiles, hereafter spelled, *peeoow*]

*peeoow* *peeoow* *peeoow* ... "Look, orcs!"
*peeoow* *peeoow* *peeoow* ... "Look, pirates!"
*peeoow* *peeoow* *peeoow* ... "Look, Greeks!"

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