cleolinda | Entries tagged with pirates (arrrr)

Begad, me old swabs, I be the Dread Captain Cleolinda, and I would sing ye the chanties of the Good Ship Split Infinitive except that it was BOARDED this black morn. I already had me eye on the horizon on behalf o' me stepfather, who be expectin' a barrel of swag from the Privateers in Brown, when--avast! There be a rapping at the foremast! So I leaves me grub and me grog and presents meself on deck to find... two gentle old salts. Aye, fine old lads with BIBLES? BIBLES? LOAD THE CANNONS! LOOSE THE MASTS! ABANDON SHIP!

"We'd like to talk to you today about the terrible things going on in the world today--"

"BELAY THAT JABBER!" ("Mm-hm, terrible things...")

"--and maybe you've wondered how a merciful God could allow such suffering. If you'd look here with me at Deuteronomy..."

"BACK, YOU BLACKGUARD, OR IT'S A TASTE OF THE CAT FOR YOU!" ("Oh... Deuteronomy... yeah. Well, you know, I'm a member of Local Church...")

"Oh, then you're a student of the Bible. Perhaps you'd like to look at our publications..."

"NEVER, YE POXY DOGS! BE HANGED UPON YER WATCHTOWER!" ("Well, if you have a copy you'd like to leave with me, that'd be great.")

And thus I drove 'em from me door, walked 'em off the plank and bid them flee, lest I forget me mercy and be true to those threats! The cat be out of the bag--the rope's end be itchin' in my hand! And if ye hear down at the Red Parrot that I bid them have a good day, know that it be a filthy LIE.

(Aww... hell. Such nice old salts, they were.)

A quick note about The Invasion and zombies ( spoiler for the basic premise )

(Something interesting I found out about The Invasion: "Originally wrapped in early 2006, the film underwent massive reshooting in 2007. The reason for this was the studio which didn't liked the cut director Oliver Hirschbiegel delivered. To change that, Andy Wachowski and Larry Wachowski were brought in for rewrites and James McTeigue (V for Vendetta) to direct the new scenes.")

Also, the trailers: we got the weird one-two vigilante punch of The Brave One, a movie in which Jodie Foster searches her conflicted, vengeful soul, and Death Sentence, a movie in which Kevin Bacon shaves his head and buys a shitload of guns. Yeah.

And then I came home to this in my inbox:

From: Binghui Demers
Subject: Do you yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you.

I confess, I knew this was junk mail, but I opened it anyway just out of sheer appreciation for the subject line.

( A rather jumbly collection of awetastic linkspam )

So I saw OOTP again on Thursday, because I am just that big a loser. My mother wanted to--well, she wanted to see Transformers, but my sister wanted to take a friend of hers to see OOTP, and obviously she can't drive while she's on painkillers, so my mother got shanghai'd into seeing Harry Potter instead. Fortunately she liked it, although she said she wished she'd known she was going to end up seeing it in the theater, since she would have rewatched GOF in that case. She's a casual DVD viewer of the series, really; never touched the books in her life. Anyway, I did notice that, ( the slightest of spoilers )

God, I hope I'm not coming down with something. I've been chilly and achy and tired the last couple of days.

Linkspam: ( Oh, the girl in the towel! )

Not much going on this morning, except that I have a crapload of things I should be doing.

( Linkspam )

Begad, me old salts, it's come to this: me poxy sinuses mutinied and put me out to sea in a longboat wi' naught but maggoty hardtack, a blackjack o' water, and me last linkspam. I'd've been set out to feed the fish but for the bonny crew that came and weighed me up like an anchor. Up then strode a buccaneer with a monkey on his shoulder and a glint in his eye, and saw that I weren't sailin' with a full set o' sails, as t'were. "Aye, lass, ye look as though ye've climbed out of Davy Jones' bilge. Care to splice the mainbrace with us? The grub is passin' fair as well."

"T'won't do no good," says I, a-snorflin' back another length of slime from the depths of me lights. "Food an' drink hold no charm for me now, mate."

The good cap'n stared at me with a new gleam in his deadlights. "Do ye drink and never quench yer thirst? Do ye taste no morsel? Do ye feeeeel no warmth?"

"Aye, or close enough to it as to feel well nigh scuppered and scuttled," says I.

"Then ye've fallen under the curse as well! The curse of the Aztec gold!" says he.

"The what?" says I.

ARRR! IT BE A MUTINY IN THE FAR EAST!

Avast, the wee lass pillaged from her mother's arms at the point of a knife be found.

Seize yer pirate name here! Me new pirate name be Voodoo Prudence, or, as me friends Sealegs Ethel and Deadeye Peg reckon, Voodoo Prue.

Animatronic Elmo TMX be unveiled. Arrr, the TMX be meanin' "Tickle Me Extreme." I says we kill it wi' fire, says I.

None o' this would happen if they'd farm seabiscuit and grog like the rest of us.

Some luckless dog lost his yardarm, went and plundered a new one, and now's lost that one, too. Or, as the lubbers marked it, "First penis transplant reversed after two weeks." Arrrrrrrrrrrr. That be... that be unfortunate.

Johnny Depp be not in I Am Legend.

But he be on the Dead Man's Chest DVD this December. (A pox on lazy journalists who be not includin' the release date in the first link!)

ARRRRR! Captain Brad be boardin' Wee Wild-Eyed Tommy's ship an' claimin' it for his own!

An' to finish, one final howler for ye:

"Hey," says the barkeep, he says, "we don't serve sheep here!" The Boston pirate shrugs. "He said wanted to go to the baaaaaaa."

Yarrrr, me scurvy knaves and salty dogs, 'tis a misty morn on the Good Ship Split Infinitive, and we've a strong breeze in our sails. Nathless, yer good cap'n, the Dread Cleolinda, spent yonder night tossin' and turnin' in her bunk. Me sniffer be bunged up, and I be hackin' up slime beasties since the wee hours o' the morn. It be not me timbers that be shivered so much as me sinuses, arrrr.

For those of ye still at sea as to what the day be about, yer cap'n provide ye with four links:

Talk Like A Pirate Day - September 19.

TalkLikeAPirateDay.

The Pirate's Realm.

The Pirate Game: Pirate Glossary.

A tale to warm the heart of any red-blooded sea dog: Bonny lass be receivin' the first bionic hand. In me own day, young sprats, we made do with hooks, we did, and we liked it.

(No, 'tis true, we did. Jolly times we had, openin' cans and scratchin' up landlubbers' carrrrrs with 'em.)

ursulav be a mad wench. (Yarrr, yer cap'n warns ye, yonder page may not be safe for work.)

Bonny Kythryne of Wearable Sculpture be havin' a sale on fine trinkets today, as well as givin' out free pirate boxes to a few lucky souls.

A wee fellow to put in yer crow's nest.

Master Snicket be sighted over the horizon!

Give some love to wee Pluto, poor sod.

Meanwhile, I be settlin' down to close me deadlights an' take a wee caulk for a few hours more, in hopes that the mutiny in me nose be simmerin' down some time soon.

Current Mood: beleaguered, arrrr
Current Music: No Doubt, " 'Tis Me Life"

This entry is long-delayed because the Reign of Unemployed Terror has officially started. Actually, today was pretty good--Mom went to some kind of networking meeting and got to be with other people in the same situation and came back bright-eyed and bushy-resuméed. The problem was the three days before that--a swamp of intra-family tension, resentment, houseguests, longterm feuds and housecleaning. I am serious: she has announced her intention to scour the entire house. As for the feuds, well, my sister and my stepfather have never gotten along and I doubt they ever will. The houseguests, at least, have gone.

So, let's tote up our latest round of trials and tribulations, shall we?

>> Pthoolhu secreted a colony of "subterranean ants" ("Even worse than carpenter ants!" Which sounds so marketing-department to me. "Thicker thoraxes! Chewier mandibles! Bigger leaks and repair bills than ever before!") in the deck surrounding the pool. He still lurks under the last two feet of sludge that we haven't pumped out yet.

>> Mom's glasses broke.

>> Sister Girl has a cracked and infected tooth, while two wisdom teeth are attempting to make the beast with two molars, or something.

>> So I'm up with her at three o'clock this morning and she's sobbing on my floor because she's had four Advil and twelve Aleve over the course of the night and the pain is STILL so bad--right on the nerves--that she can't see straight, and she has to go to Panera at five because it's just her and the brand-new manager on the busiest morning of the week (Tuesday? Who knew?), and I'm just sitting there in my computer chair, for an hour, trying to calm her down because I can think of nothing to do to help her.

>> Also, she needs braces.

>> Again.

I am reeeeeally hoping beyond hope that we will be able to go see the movie tomorrow, because I really, really need to see stuff blow up at this point.

Meanwhile, for some reason, I am totally obsessed with the last Garbage album, which came out however many eons ago. I liked "Run Baby Run" and, to a lesser extent, "Metal Heart" immediately, but the rest of the songs left me cold. This may be because, while I do like guitars a lot, my favorite CD of theirs is Version 2.0, with is a lot more techno-dancy (I fell in love with "Temptation Waits" immediately). But even on that one, which I felt was nearly perfect at the time, it still took me months to appreciate "Hammering in My Head," which I love now. I think Bleed Like Me just kind of overwhelmed me with the guitar-harsh at first, and it took a spontaneous urge to listen to the whole thing several times over the other day for me to get it. And now I love "It's All Over But the Crying" and the way Shirley Manson says, "Do you really think I'm made of stone, baby, come on," and "Why Do You Love Me" ("WHY! DO! YOU! LOOOVE ME!"), and "Bad Boyfriend," even though I kept listening to it and not getting it, and then this morning I was just like, "Holy shit, this is awesome!" So I do, at least, have this going for me at the moment.

( Linkspam )

Current Music: Garbage, "Bad Boyfriend"

Not much to say on a personal level, except that I think I need to accept that I am, in fact, going through a bout of depression. The annual January-February-possibly-March bout, like clockwork. I know I probably don't seem depressed to y'all, by the tone of most entries, but that's the thing I've noticed: I can perk up for the short term when presented with stimuli. A conversation, a book, a movie, something to snark on: I'm fully capable of reacting. It's the acting that's the hard part--I feel locked in stasis unless something else acts upon me. Sigh.

Cult TV show boosts sales of surreal Irish author: "It was a shot that lasted just a second, but the appearance of Irish novel The Third Policeman on cult television series 'Lost' has thrust one of Ireland's less celebrated authors into the limelight. The surreal comic novel by Flann O'Brien, an early 20th century author heavily influenced by fellow countryman James Joyce, appeared briefly in an episode of 'Lost' screened in Ireland on Monday. It was first aired in the United States in October. After that outing, 10,000 copies of the book -- unpublished during the author's lifetime -- flew off bookshop shelves in just two days."

Defamer: "NBC has posted the pilot episode of the Dick Wolf series Conviction to iTunes Store, where potential viewers can download it for free, then spend the two weeks until the show's premiere telling friends how totally awesome it is, thus making the series a huge hit for the struggling, technology-crazy network." And then, I assume, it will slap iTunes on the wrist for actually making people want to watch their shows.

Tom Cruise may sue magazine over breakup story. Well, I'm surprised, aren't you?

For those of you wondering what the SACRILEGE last night was all about: Torvill and Dean's Bolero.

Roaming motorcyclists stick it to Fred Phelps and his funeral protesters: "Wearing vests covered in military patches, a band of motorcyclists rolls around the country from one soldier's funeral to another, cheering respectfully to overshadow jeers from church protesters. They call themselves the Patriot Guard Riders, and they are more than 5,000 strong, forming to counter anti-gay protests held by the Rev. Fred Phelps at military funerals."

Jon Stewart goes a little nuts on the Today Show.

Gawker: Media Freakout: MySpace Also Eats Baby Puppies.

Mary Higgins Clark a plagiarist?

Office Pirates Preview: Time Inc. Wants You to Kill Yourself. Arrrr?

The Pete Doherty Hoax, Resolved, or "The Hoax Is A Hoax."

Wait, Tom Ford did what to Jake Gyllenhaal?

Leaked Guns N' Roses Tracks Give Fans Hope.

Toeless socks?

Over at

dailydigestnews: two updates, including a link to Legoback Mountain (which is startlingly accurate, by the way).

It's been a hard weekend. Because I ran out, I basically had to quit Wellbutrin cold turkey early in the week, and... it wasn't Trainspotting or anything, but it caught up to me on Saturday and I was really, truly, unpleasantly ill. The phrase "rogue bowels" was used once or twice, I'll put it that way. Meanwhile, it looks like we as a family are going to be having a tough time for a while. I can't really say why until the relevant events have finished up, but it doesn't involve anyone's health, marital, or reproductive status, at least. I hate just throwing that out there and leaving y'all to worry, but I don't know who reads this journal, etc., and I don't need to talk about the details before they've actually happened. I was just really ill-equipped to deal with shit this particular weekend, though. We did scrounge up some samples so I'm back on the Wb, and I immediately felt more capable of dealing with life. All I'm saying is, suddenly this passage from Little Women hits closer than usual:

So Jo was satisfied with the investment of her prize money, and fell to work with a cheery spirit, bent on earning more of those delightful checks. She did earn several that year, and began to feel herself a power in the house, for by the magic of a pen, her 'rubbish' turned into comforts for them all. The Duke's Daughter paid the butcher's bill, A Phantom Hand put down a new carpet, and The Curse of the Coventrys proved the blessing of the Marches in the way of groceries and gowns.

Meanwhile, Mom and I watched The Island yesterday, and you know what? It was surprisingly not bad. It was--dare I say it--actually pretty good.

In other news, I am feeling extremely piratey lately. I think it started when I was cleaning out duplicates from some movie picture folders and ended up giving the Pirates of a Caribbean folder a good combing down. From there, it spiraled into a playlist from the soundtrack on my Nano and ordering a pair of boots ("Well, I needed some formal-ish black shoes! And these microfiber ankle boots that just came in are okay, but they bunch weirdly at the ankles, so I think I'm going to exchange them for a pair of mid-calf boots--don't look at me like that! I could wear them with skirts! I DO SO WEAR SKIRTS! OKAY, I DON'T, BUT I COULD!") I think I may curl up and watch the commentary version on the DVD before I get back to work tomorrow--I hear the one with Keira Knightley and Norrington, the guy who plays Norrington, what's his name--Jack Davenport, thank you, is hilarious. So maybe that will cheer me up. And if it doesn't, and if things really do end up going badly for the family finances, I may end up turning to piracy myself. I have a feeling that most people would be so shocked by the sight of a hijacked Manila galleon parked outside their house that, really, they'd just hand over their flatscreens and their PlayStations without much argument at that point. "YARRRR! AND WE BE WANTIN' YER PASTAMAKER, TOO!"

In the meantime, I just made fun icons from product images at Pin-up Girl Clothing. ( Fast, Loose, and Lovely )

Linkspam:

Final Days of Girl's Life Reveal Horrors.

Rescued Thames whale has convulsion and dies, woe.

Frickin' octopus tries to eat submarine, holy shit.

A Washington Post blogger has the back story on what all those security fixes here on LJ were about.

*stabs* (1): Hello, I am an asshat. It's not what he says--I really do believe that putting a marriage first is actually in the best interests of the child, for reasons that will become apparent if you read the article--but the cavalier selfishness with which he says it. "The having an affair approach"? Is that your real name on the byline, sir?

*stabs* (2): Partner's death ends happy life on ranch. It's kind of what you would have wanted for Jack and Ennis, until you get to shit like the last sentence and you want to bomb things.

*stabs* (3): UCLA students urged to expose 'radical' professors. WTF?

More BPAL e-drama: As a customer of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, I feel like other customers should know about the smear campaign being perpetrated online. Yes, it is possible to dislike any or all of the scents. Yes, you can find fault with the shipping times during busy periods. Is it a little suspect if you continually piss and moan and you run a competing business (that has, coincidentally, been accused of 1) using synthetic components and 2) copying other sites' blends, artwork, concepts, and/or descriptions)? Yeah, I think it is. If nothing else, if you see these particular posters bitching and whining about BPAL, you'll know what axe they're grinding.

foresthouse: Lost icon contest.

Monaghan and Lilly engaged?

An Onion oldie for

snacky: Fritolaysia Cuts Off Chiplomatic Relations With Snakistan.

Long-Awaited Baby Boomer Die-Off To Begin Soon, Experts Say. There are times when I am not sure the Onion is actually writing satire. God knows I'm looking forward to it.

DOG BLOG UPDATES!

Playboy magazine set for Indonesia despite protests.

Muslim Group to Call for Writer's Release. The terrorists' deadline passed and we haven't heard anything about the girl yet, but the fact that other Muslim groups are getting involved bodes well.

dailydigestnews, as soon as I go update it: Katiewomb shenanigans--a pictorial; the South Park that Tom doesn't want you to see; a new actress joins the new Spider-Man movie; and a really awesome 2006 preview.

( What type of villain are you? )

Current Music: Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack

AUGH. I am going to stab my DVD player, because there aren't up/down/left/right selection buttons on the player itself, and the remote has decided to DIE, because apparently new batteries aren't GOOD ENOUGH for the FUCKING LITTLE BASTARD. Is it too much to ask, really, to let me watch the Lost extras? Is it? I ASK YOU.

(Did I come up with "Sawyerland," or is that something the writers actually had Sawyer say? Because I have a feeling Sawyer said it, but that I would have mentioned it in a recap, and I can't find any reference to him actually saying it. Oh, and the search function on LJ user info pages? SUCKS.)

Also: Yes, I missed Talk Like a Pirate Day. Mostly because I felt bad and not piraty. Which makes me very sad, because I really look forward to pirate-talking online all day long each year. Sad and ANGRY.

(I swear to you, I was not this angry all day. I was fine until about ten minutes ago.)

Oh, and I locked myself out of my fucking online bank account, because apparently my username/password is not what I thought it was, and I tried so many different combinations that the site decided I was a hacker, and now I have to CALL CUSTOMER SERVICE ON THE PHONE NOOOOOOOOOOO. Seriously, I'm half joking and I'm half serious here. I hate phones.

(Maybe I really have been cranky all day and just didn't know it...?)

Oh, P.S.: I seem to have lost my backlog of linkspam, Katrina and otherwise, in a Semagic crash, woe. So I will simply give you what I have:

Money Earmarked for Evacuation Redirected.

New Orleans Suspends Reopening of City.

angelic_oni: "Have you seen this excellent Lost site? You should totally pimp it out, because I'm not sure lots of people have heard about it. Click on the "Untold: Step into the Subconscious" and you go on interactive tours through the lives/minds of the castaways. Some of it is frightening (Claire's, Locke's and Sayid's especially... oh, and Jack's has a strange kind of Donnie Darko-esque feel with the rabbit) but all of it is pretty excellent and gets me extremely hyped for the new season."

The Cthulhu Awareness Ribbon.

I'm not sure what's going on here, besides short films, and a pleasantly spooky web design.

arielchan (who gave us the meme that spawned Cleo Sue, by the way): "Cleo, dear, I know it hasn't been that long since I requested something, but next time you're doing pimpage could you possibly pimp out emoawards? It's funny as heck, and needs more members."

So, uh, I didn't watch the Emmys, because I think of them as The Boring Awards Show, partly because I don't watch much TV so I don't care about who wins and I totally forgot that Lost was up for so many things, and... I didn't get the memo that the show was going to be cracked ouuuuuuuuut. Thus, I am grateful to Diego Zanzibar for a link to Emmy Idol downloads. I have a guilty fondness for "Fame," and... yeah. (Warning: image of Donald Trump singing "Green Acres" may scar you for life.)

Random thoughts: "Heaven" (you know, that old Bryan Adams song) came up on my mp3 player and I had this weird urge to hear it covered by someone like Nick Cave or something. Like, the chorus is pretty awesome to belt out at one's desk, not that I spent this afternoon doing that or anything, but the verses are crap. "Once in your life you find someone who will turn your world around, bring you up when you're feeling down"? "There's lots that I could say, but just hold me now, 'cause our love will light the way"? Are you kidding me? (It probably doesn't help that the melody at this point just kind of sags and doesn't really support the lyrics in any way, so you're left with nothing but the bald crapitude of the words.) But now imagine Nick Cave singing the same lines. Possibly sounding like he just escaped from prison. Yeah. It's a hell of a lot different now, isn't it? "And baby you're all that I want, when you're lying here ~~lifeless~~ in my arms , I'm finding it hard to believe we're in heaven ~~because I was, after all, convicted of six counts of first-degree homicide~~. And lovin' is all that I need, and I found it there in your heart ~~still beating in my fist~~; it isn't too hard to see ~~by the light of the oncoming police sirens~~ we're in heaven--WHOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOA!"

You can hear it, can't you?

Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, Spreadshirt has possibly thrown a wrinkle, or a wrench, or whatever, into the CafePress situation. The good news is they have black t-shirts and good prices. The bad news is that vectors are involved.

Advantages: Printing also available on dark textiles

Disadvantages:
Only one or two colors per design
No color blending possible
A vector file must be submitted (using Corel Draw, Illustrator, PageMaker, FreeHand)
Designs must be checked before being released, the design will be available for printing after one workday

I don't even have any of those programs. (I don't think...?) I think we might be able to pop over there occasionally for special t-shirt designs or fabric colors, but if it's okay with y'all, I may try to work within CafePress's design limits--I mean, they can do any colors we want on the designs, just not so much in terms of the shirts themselves. And I cannot bring myself to believe that CafePress will not someday offer black shirts, because that's ridiculous, and maybe if enough of us lobby for them, they'll see the light. I'll see if I can figure out what the hell is going on over there, but if you want to hold off on buying shirts from CafePress until we figure it out, that's perfectly all right.

(ACK MY EYELID IS STILL TWITCHING AUGH.)

Current Mood: moody
Current Music: "WHOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOA!"

Arrrr! Greetin's, Salutations, an' "Yar" from Blackhearted Cleo, Princess of the High Seas, Terror of the Spanish Main, an' Cap'n of the HHS Split Infinitive. (Aye, o' course it be no longer HH Her Ship, it be HH my ship. ARRRR!)

For me first cap'n's log today, I 'as a proposition for ye. I been mullin' over this many weeks a plot to help a few of the wee lubber sprats. Aye, came to me in a dream, it did. I was lyin' in me bunk, an' all o' sudden this mite was standin' before me an' said, "Please, mem, I en't got no legs." An' I says to the mite, I says, "Why, how're ye standin' before me then, wee varlet?" An' the wee varlet says, "Please, mem, me whole fambly ded o' flesh-eatin' meningitis." An' I says, says I, "Why, sprat, them's awful long words for a mouthful like ye to be spoutin'!" An' the wee sprat says, "Please, mem, I's so hungry I don't make no sense." Now this here was a plight as what I could wrap me noodle around, begad! Plainly the wee spawn ashore need a bit o' friendly aid, an' truth to tell, the pillagin' an' lootin' an' plank-walkin' an' gut-stabbin' do wear on me many a night, arrrr. So I says to myself, I says, "The next ship as what we loot, I gives the crew's share of the booty to the hungry nonsensin' children, eh?"

Aye. So 'ere's me plan: I goes about writin' one o' me movie whatsabobbits, only this time I sails the Split Infinitive up to ye journals an' blogs an' says, "AVAST YE, GRUBS! BEG FOR YER LIVES, POXY DOGS!" And then ye says, "Oh no! Blackhearted Cleo, Princess of the High Seas, Terror of the Spanish Main, an' Cap'n of the HHS Split Infinitive! What can we do that ye may spare our lives, Cap'n?" And then I says, says I, "Give us five pieces of eight. Or a dollar. Arrr." And then ye sends the Good Ship PayPal to us with yer dollar on board, and I ~~maroons ye on an island~~ adds ye to a special community as what's been made for the purpose or summat suchlike, and ye gets to read the special movie whatsabobbit. I be thinkin' o' doin' Peter Pan, meself. For the wee sprats, ye know.

So, the next ship as what we loot, I gives the crew's share of the booty to the hungry nonsensin' children. Well... p'rhaps not the next ship. Maybe five ships after that, as I got the book on special commission to be writin', or me publisher be takin' back me Letters o' Marque an' I be a privateer no more... but maybe in the spring, if'n enough o' ye scoundrel knaves be handsome with ye loot. Because it be for the wee varmints, ye know, as what's hungry an' orphaned an' flesh-eaten an' not even makin' no sense... *sniff*

NO, THE CAP'N EN'T CRYIN'! HOW DARES YE INTIMATE THAT BLACKHEARTED CLEO BE SHEDDIN' SALTWATER! FOR THAT, YE GETS A TASTE O' THE CAT! AN' A KEELHAULIN'! AN' A PLANK-WALKIN'!

So: how many of ye scurvy swabs be int'rested in a surrenderin' of ye booty sometime early next year for a good cause? (Not like that. Blimey, ye addled pervs.)

Current Mood: AVAST!
Current Music: DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES!

So. I saw Peter Pan yesterday. It was v. good. I made wallpaper. I read part of the original book at Project Gutenberg last night. I need to write a review now. And I'm going to, but first, I have to get something off my chest that I don't really want to put in a serious, introspective review:

Jason Isaacs is the sexor. Seriously. I know that y'all who are deeper into the Harry Potter fandom already knew this. Look, I think he makes a great Lucius Malfoy, but Scary Aryan doesn't really do it for me in terms of the hotness. But Captain Hook? I am telling you, this is David-Bowie-in-Labyrinth for a new generation. Ten years from now, college girls (hey, maybe a few boys) are going to be getting tipsy on a slow Saturday night watching their favorite childhood movies, and one of them's going say in a very small voice, "You know, I always thought Hook was... kinda... hot," and the confessions are going to start pouring out.

And what these wee sprats don't realize now, because they are, you know, eight years old and don't read the entertainment press, is that the filmmakers did this on purpose. So I'm not crazy or anything. PJ Hogan kept talking about bringing the adolescent psychodrama up to the surface, blah blah blah, Jason Isaacs decided to play Hook "like a rock star," and there were several moments where I was afraid--since the movie clearly shows you that the same actor is playing Hook and Mr. Darling--that we were actually going to get into the Wendycest. Like, when Hook assures Wendy sweetly, "My new obsession is you," I swear all the parents in the theater all looked at each other kinda queasily. And then he finished, "...and not that silly Peter Pan, or his whereabouts. I promise we won't follow you back to his hideout," and we were all like, "Ohhhhhh. Whew. Carry on." Because, seriously? He's piratelicious, and it's not like we really need all that much encouragement.

I need to go write a real review now.

Current Mood: busy

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True Tales of Five Minutes Ago
Do you yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you?
Friday night, waiting on mascarpone cupcakes
Monday morning, slight headache
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of Robitussin
Avast ye, it be Talk Like a Pirate Day!
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The Attack of Moodzilla
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Cleolinda everywhere

Classy dame, sparkle consultant, gothic enthusiast, sporadic recapper.

Entries tagged with pirates (arrrr)

True Tales of Five Minutes Ago

Do you yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you?

Friday night, waiting on mascarpone cupcakes

Monday morning, slight headache

Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of Robitussin

Avast ye, it be Talk Like a Pirate Day!

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The Attack of Moodzilla

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June 2024

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