I Watch the Glittery Vampire Movie, and Don't Totally Hate It Even Thought I Really REALLY Want To, and Also, What's the Deal With That Guy's Nose?

Tuesday night, Law and Order: SVU and CSI:New York are over. My quota of murder, sexual tension and lame quips sated (but still I am left unfulfilled by the lack of shirtless Chris Meloni) I scan the Rogers OnDemand for something to watch. After several severely-pixelated failed attempts to watch Fox Mulder have a bunch of The Sex on Californication, I decide to take the plunge, swallow my pride, and watch that loathed vampire abomination Twilight.

I love vampires. I watch the movies and the TV shows, I read the books, I picture the good-looking guys I know with fangs and silvery eyes. I accept different, varying takes on the legend: can't go out in the sun ... can go out in the sun ... crosses and church and garlic bad ... crosses and church and garlic do nothing ... they do have souls and reflections ... they don't have souls or reflections. Whatever. To me, there are only three things that don't vary: fangs, blood and lack of glitter.

Which takes me to everything I perceived would be wrong with Twilight.

First, the little buggers don't have fangs. Second, abundance of glitter. (Please note: in order for there to be an abundance of glitter, there really only needs to be one glitter. Glitter = Lame.) To be fair, I didn't make the No-Glitter Rule until after Twilight was created, because until then, NO ONE WAS DUMB ENOUGH TO THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA. You suck, Stephanie Meyer Or However the Hell You Spell Your Last Name, Because I Don't Feel Like Looking it Up.

They manage to pass the Blood Rule, because feeding off animals is an acceptable vampire practice as far as I'm concerned. See: Stefan in Vampire Diaries (which was a book WAY before Twilight was, so shut up with your little copycat theories, TwiTards.)

Before I get into the Everything I Thought Sucked About This Movie portion of the evening, let's go over what I DID like -- and there was actually quite a lot. The clothes were pretty awesome. The actress who plays Bella was good. She's pretty, and she does "moody" well, without being annoying. Her truck was pretty cool, however, I question how she was able to pick up driving a standard so quickly, after having to ask which pedal was the clutch.

The setting was great. I've seen photos of the real Forks, Washington, and this portrayed that well. Yay for Vancouver -- you're really good at being damp and rainy.

The main components of a good vampire movie were there for the most part: the vampire guy who doesn't want to love the human girl because he doesn't want to hurt her, the conflicted human girl who trusts the vampire guy, the kindly vampires resisting their nature, the mean vampires who just want to eff everything up for the kindly vampires for some reason, the borderline-violent kissing. Overall, not a bad story, although they fell in maddeningly sickly love just a little too fast for my taste.

Now let's get to the fun part, where I bitch about Twilight. I've been bitching about it forever without actually knowing much about it, and I feel like less of a dick now that I can bitch about it after seeing it.

They glitter. THEY GLITTER, for crying out loud. When the vampires go out in the sun, they fucking glitter. I figured it would be lame, but the glittering in this movie far out-lamed anything I could have ever imagined, even in my Liberace-iest dreams. Really? The effects on a film with a decent budget couldn't have been just a little better? Did they cover him in glue and blow arts and crafts sparkles at him? No. Just, no. Don't ever do that again.

No fangs. Don't really have to go into any great detail about that. Self-explanatory, really. Vampires. Have. Fangs.

In Twilight, the vampires have venom. Venom is for snakes. That is all.

The vampires can run really fast, which is fine. How they carried out this particular trait in this move is NOT fine. It's the opposite of fine. I can't really explain it properly, because something in my brain short-circuited every time it happened and I can't really remember what it looked like. I just remember thinking of cartoon characters running in place, and then my eyes would roll back in my head for a while from the sheer dorkiness if it all.

The first half of the movie held my interest, but they lost me part way through. I think it might have been WHEN THE VAMPIRES PLAYED FRIGGING BASEBALL. Seriously, Stephanie Oscar Meyer Wiener Breath? BASEBALL??? Jackass. No one likes you.

Some of the acting was ass. Most of the acting was pretty good. I especially liked the long-haired native boy who is probably a werewolf. (Spoiler Alert!)

And then there's Edward. Edward, Edward, Edward. I actually really liked the character, but I rather wish the actor would get hit by a train. Failing that, I wish he'd wash his hair and get less ugly. What the hell is wrong with his nose? Did someone pound him in the face with a shovel? I know all women everywhere who have ever opened their eyes find him attractive, but I just don't see it. I shouldn't really judge, though, since I keep a picture of Shirtless Keith Richards on my bedroom wall. I shouldn't judge, but I am. Please, women of the world, do not encourage him. At least refuse to drool over him until he buys some Pantene. I beg of you.

So, despite all my preconceived notions, I didn't hate Twilight. I didn't love it, but I didn't want to gouge my eyes out with a pickle fork after having watched it. Will I see the next 43 Twilight movies? Meh. Perhaps. Maybe one day, when they're on the Movie Network and I'm done watching whatever incarnation of CSI/Law and Order is done for the night. Unless Chris Meloni takes his shirt off.

When that happens, Melanie needs some alone-time.....which made Oz difficult to watch.

I Violate Football

I don't know anything about football. I don't have anything against it, I just don't watch it or pay any attention to it or really care about it in any way whatsoever. Today, Hopper was doing his football picks for a football pool thingy, and I decided I would do some, too. What I have done flies in the face of statistics or fan devotion or logic or anything, really. I just decided which one of the competing teams' things-they're-named-after could kill the other in real life.

I apologize to people who love football for basically making fun of it. If it makes you feel better, I once dressed up as Strawberry Shortcake for a tap-dancing recital. You can poke fun at me for that if it makes you feel better. Although, I'm not sure a Strawberry Shortcake costume is more embarassing than those pants football players wear.

Also, I feel the need to stress that I did research for this. Actual research. Because who the fuck knows what a "49er" is? (They were gold prospectors, by the way. Don't care.)


Titans v Steelers
(Titans, because they're gods. Can't beat gods.)

Dolphins v Falcons
(Falcons, because they could probably get a falcon-gang together and swoop down and peck the dolphins' eyeballs out. The dolphins would be all "Wah! Let's all get along! Boo hoo! I'm a pretty dolphin! Love me! Oh no -- my face is bleeding and now I'm dead.")

Chiefs v Ravens
(Chiefs, because they could just shoot the ravens.)

Eagles v Panthers
(Panthers, because the eagles would swoop down, and the panthers would be all "screw you, bird!" and chomp them right out of the air with their pointy teeth.)

Broncos v Bengals
(Bengals eat horses. Fact. Probably)

Vikings v Browns
(Vikings will pillage the village, bitches.)

Jets v Texans
(Jets, because they'd just crash into the Texans and pulverize them.)

Jaguars v Colts
(Sorry, little horsie. Kitty gonna eat you.)

Lions v Saints
(Lions eat everything.)

Cowboys v Buccaneers
(Buccaneers were dicks and they were good at killing, so they'll totally win.)

49ers v Cardinals
(Cardinals are pretty, but they're dorks. They lose.)

Red Skins v Giants
(Giants squish things. They get to win. Also, 'Red Skins' is racist. Fix it.)

Rams v Seahawks
(seahawks would probably dive bomb rams, but then the rams would ram them with their rammy heads. Rams win.)

Bears v Packers
(Bears. What the fuck are packers? Like, luggage packers? Meat packers? Why would you name a team that? That's stupid.)

Bills v Patriots
(The Bills are basically named after Buffalo Bill Cody, who was a big fan of Native and women's rights, and also shot buffaloes. Patriots, I imagine, are named after the Americans who fought against British rule. Both could fight, but Buffallo Bill could fight BUFFALOES, which are WAY bigger than British people. Bills win.)

Charges v Raiders
(Chargers are horsies, I guess. Raiders are pirate-guys? Raiders, then. It would be way cooler if they were Cylon Raiders like in Battlestar Galactica.)


***So those are my picks for this coming whatever. You guys are all gonna feel really dumb if I'm right.

Small Talk Causes Herpes

Not really, but if it DID, maybe people would stop doing it. Or at least put condoms over the heads while talking, then suffocate. Some topics are so ball-meltingly boring, that I cannot even comprehend discussing them at length. Yet EVERY FUCKING DAY I run into at least five people who manage to create entire conversations about nothing. Like…..

The Weather. “Golly gee, it’s COLD outside!” Yes, it is. “Don’t you think it’s COLD outside?” Yes, I do. “When you were outside just now, didn’t you find it COLD?” Yes, I did. “When you go outside later, I bet it will still be COLD!” Probably. “Why is it so COLD out?” Because it’s December, you stupid, boring asshole. Unless it’s 30 Celsius in February, a hurricane hits downtown Ottawa, or it snows blood, weather is boring. It’s also not something only the conversation-starter is aware of. I know it’s raining/hot/cold/snowing/windy/ninja-toads are falling from the sky because I, like you, CAN FUCKING SEE/FEEL IT.

What Day of the Week it Might Be. “Wow! It’s Friday!” It sure the fuck is! Guess how I knew that? Because I don’t pour lead paint on my Honey Nut Tard-ios every morning! If you go to bed on a Monday and it is Friday when you wake up the next day because of some cosmic re-aligning of the bloody calendar, then -- AND ONLY THEN -- are you allowed to talk to me about what day of the week it is without me kicking you square in the nutsack.

Something Someone Said to You About Your Lawn. “My neighbour just can’t figure out how I keep my lawn in such good shape!” I’m going to guess it’s because you have a lot of spare lawn-tending time, what with all the not-getting-laid you’re doing. The only reason to try to start a conversation that way is to get the person you’re about to bore into a stroke to ask you about how awesome you are. Well, I won’t do it. I will stare blankly at you until you cry if I have to, but the only thing I’m going to ask you about your lawn is what the soil is like, as it pertains to digging graves.

Something I Just Told You I Already Know. “Did you hear about that woman who set that guy on fire yesterday?” Yes. “The one who doused him with vodka and threw firecrackers at him until he caught fire?” Yes. I read that. In the newspaper. “And then she pushed him into a bathtub to put the fire out?” Yep. Read that part. “And then she rolled him in salt and bees?” Oh, wait -- nope. That's a completely different story than the one I read about. Thanks. Drop dead.

I Just Saw Something With My Eyes, and Now I’m Going to Say What I Saw Out Loud With My Mouth. “You have a blue shirt on!” “Hey, that’s a dog!” “You are running at me with a knife screaming ‘SHUT UP!’” I eat at my desk at work. A co-worker who I will call Jackass McDoucheGargler sometimes walks up to my desk, stands there, and says “You’re eating a bagel/apple/fistful of glass.” Then he continues to stand there, trying to turn his ability to convey something he has seen into word-form into a long, drawn-out conversation. To my credit, I haven’t punched him in the throat yet.

We’re all guilty of small talk sometimes, out of boredom or nervousness or being too drunk to say anything to the guy at the bar beyond “you have pretty teeth.” But more often than not, small talk is used by people who cannot stand being silent. It is used by people whose own thoughts bore their brains SO MUCH that their bodies repel those thoughts out into the world. It is used by people who have so little going on in their own heads, they have to speak so their brains don’t flat-line, turning them into drooling morons who walk around licking things off the surface of parking lots.

I just read back over this, and it kinda makes me sound like a bitch. I’m OK with that.

Why Are Some Women So F***ing Stupid?

The Hopper showed me a survey statistic the other day that suggested one-third of women have PRAYED for a boyfriend. I have a survey statistic that suggests 100 percent of those women are stupid. It’s a survey I did of me, where I asked myself what I thought of those women, and I answered “they’re stupid.” It’s re-enforced my belief that some women need to go to a special school to learn how to not suck. According to some guys I know, they also have to go to a different special school to learn HOW to suck, but that’s not really something I think we need to discuss right now.

I should confess right now that I am not an expert on boyfriends. I haven’t had one in none-of-your-fucking-business-how-many-years. But I've spent a great deal of time observing people and picking them apart, and I think I’ve figured out what these women are doing wrong. I’ve decided I should tell them all about it, because people love to hear about how stupid they are, and they never ever get angry about it. Please don’t be offended. I mean well. Probably.

I think the first thing some women do wrong is LOOK for boyfriends. Boyfriends are not shoes. There is not a Boyfriend Store. I get that you want someone to keep you company and tell you you’re pretty, but looking for a boyfriend just for the sake of HAVING a boyfriend is not going to end well. Think of it this way: You want a red dress. You go from store to store looking, but can’t find one that fits you just right, so you buy the one that’s closest to what you’re looking for. Except it’s one size too small and it’s itchy. So you wear this too-small itchy dress, and you try to make it work, because you wanted a red dress SO DAMN BAD. You give up pizza so you can lose a few pounds and fit into it more comfortably, and you spend tons of money on expensive lotion to get rid of the rashes because of the itchy fabric. Now you’re pissed off because you can’t have pizza and you’re broke from buying lotion. In a blind rage, you rip the dress off, cut it up with scissors, and set the shredded bits on fire.

Now, picture doing that to the boyfriend you settled for because you wanted one SO BAD and couldn’t wait until the right guy just came along. You changed yourself and gave up your comfort, to make what you managed to find work for you. Not fair to you, not fair to him – especially since he’s the one that got set on fire.

This next one should go without saying, but it apparently doesn’t, so I’m going to say it: If you sleep with him the day you meet him, he’s probably never going to be your boyfriend. Sure, it happens sometimes. Happened to me once, and it lasted quite awhile. Quite a long, miserable, while. A long, miserable, holy-shit-I-hate-him-and-I-wish-he’d-fall-off-a-cliff while. As best as I can figure, here’s the thought process: “Um, like, if I sleep with him RIGHT NOW, he will, like, totally think I’m the COOLEST chick ever and he will TOTALLY want to love me forever and marry me and have babies with me and we will live happily every after on a unicorn farm.”

Nope. If you sleep with him RIGHT NOW, he’s going to think: “Yay. I got laid.”

Here’s a fun game I’ve seen some women play: It’s called “I’m Going to Say I Just Want No-Strings-Attached Sex, But I Really Want Him To Love Me, And I’m Sure He’ll Do Just That After I Sleep With Him For A Few Weeks.”

Nope again. That game ends with him telling you to go away, and you crying into the purple fur of your most-favourite Care Bear every night for three weeks. Also, it screws up things for women who actually DO want no-strings-attached sex, because men stop believing it when women say that. So quit it.

Finally, you need to stop being anyone other than exactly who you are. Pretending to like something or be something because you think it will makes guys think you are awesome is stupid. Ask yourself this: Do you really like UFC? REALLY? My friend Kristi does. You can tell, because when she has conversations about it, she actually knows what she’s talking about. I’ve heard other women talk about it, and…….not so much with the knowing-what-the-fuck-they’re-saying. Guys do not care if you like UFC/hockey/wrasslin’/NASCAR/chugging beer/farting contests. That’s what their guy-friends are for. It’s completely OK if you like those things, but it’s OK if you don’t. And eventually, they will figure out you’re pretending, then it’s back to crying into your Care Bear.

Do you really, really want to pretend to like something you hate or be someone you’re not for the entire length of your relationship? Because you’re options are: a) eventually crack, admit to who you are, and basically show him you’ve committed Relationship Fraud, giving him every right to ditch your ass, or b) pretend to be someone you’re not for the rest of your life. Both of these options can be avoided by just being yourself, you stupid fucking idiot.


Here endeth the lesson.

Useless Waste of Soundwaves, Part 3

This song redefines 'suck.'



Sometimes When We Touch - Dan Hill

You ask me if I love you (nope)
And I choke on my reply (I got something for ya to choke on)
I'd rather hurt you honestly
Than mislead you with a lie (wimp)
And who am I to judge you
On what you say or do?
I'm only just beginning to see the real you

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you til I die (that’s fucking creepy)
Til we both break down and cry (if a chick cries when you hold her, that’s called RAPE)
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides

Romance and all its strategy
Leaves me battling with my pride
But through the insecurity
Some tenderness survives (lame)
I'm just another writer
Still trapped within my truth
A hesitant prize fighter
Still trapped within my youth (continuing lameness)

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you til I die (seriously – think of the fucking TRAUMA that would cause to the person you’re holding)
Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides

At times I'd like to break you (wife-beater)
And drive you to your knees (that sounds dirty)
At times I'd like to break through
And hold you endlessly (So, you want to pound her, and then…………..pound her?)
At times I understand you
And I know how hard you've tried
I've watched while love commands you
And I've watched love pass you by (Oh my FUCK this is lame)

At times I think we're drifters
Still searching for a friend
A brother or a sister (INCEST)
But then the passion flares again

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much (That doesn’t even MEAN anything, you jackass!)
And I have to close my eyes and hide (Closing your eyes does not make you HIDE, retard. Just because you can’t see someone, doesn’t mean it can’t see you.)
I wanna hold you til I die (please fucking do, if it means you will never sing this song again)
Til we both break down and cry (I already am)
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides (Fuck off. This song is shit.)

Avril Lavigne is a Jackass.

Song #2 in my list of Shit Music that Rapes My Ears


I enjoy listening to Avril Lavigne about as much as I would enjoy listening to the sounds my dog would make if she were being skinned alive. That said, I do not know and do not care if she’s ever actually written any word of any sentence of any song she’s every ‘performed.’ But the shit comes out of her mouth, so she’s the one I’m taking it out on. I’ve also only added selected excerpts (they are listed in order as they appear in the song) because it’s a very long piece of shit, and I don’t want to over power my computer with it’s stench.



"Complicated"

Uh huh, life's like this
Uh huh, uh huh, that's the way it is
Cause life's like this
Uh huh, uh huh that's the way it is

***That’s deep. Thanks, retard.


Chill out whatcha yelling' for?

***Cuz I hate you.


You come over unannounceddressed up like you're somethin' else

***”Dressed up like you’re somethin’ else,” Avril? Like perhaps a cool punk-rock-but-not-too-offensively-punk-rock chick, instead of a skank-whore from Napanee?


Trying to be cool you look like a fool to me

***I really like those commercials you’re in for digital cameras these days. They in no way make you look like a moron.


Chill out whatcha yelling for?

***Again, because I hate you. Already told you that.


Lay back, it's all been done before

***Too easy.

"Cecilia" is a Stupid Song

The first in my ongoing series of Songs That Are Stupid and Why.


I hate this song. Not only does it get stuck in my frigging head for a week any time I hear even one NANO SECOND of it, but it might be one of the most glaring examples of pathetic loserness that has ever been written.




Cecilia, you're breaking my heart
You're shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I'm down on my knees
I'm begging you please to come home

Cecilia, you're breaking my heart
You're shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I'm down on my knees
I'm begging you please to come home
Come on home

***Up to this point, there's nothing really odd about this song, except how fucking annoying it is. Shit starts to go wrong right.....about....now.


Making love in the afternoon with CeciliaUp in my bedroom (making love)

***Nothing wrong there.

I got up to wash my face

***What exactly is this guy doing during sex that requires him to wash his damn face? If you're face gets dirty, you're doing it WRONG.

When I come back to bed
Someone's taken my place

***Cecilia's a whore, dude. Also, unless you take a very, very long time to wash your face, this other guy was in your room the whole time, and he was probably naked. Watching you boink.

Cecilia, you're breaking my heart
You're shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I'm down on my knees
I'm begging you please to come home
Come on home

***Now this particular clump of dialogue, which was not-weird at the beginning, becomes much more weirderer. You are begging this bitch to come back? Dude -- WHORE.

Jubilation, she loves me again,
I fall on the floor and I am laughing,
Jubilation, she loves me again,
I fall on the floor and I am happy.

***Jubilation because a whore has taken YOU back after SHE banged some guy mere seconds after you left the room to wash your face in the middle of sex? You're an asshole. Also, you probably didn't fall on the floor because of laughter. Cecilia probably gave you syphilis, and you've fainted. Go to a doctor.