Sunday, November 04, 2007

I hear weasels!

Halloween was great; I went over to a friend's and watched horror movies. Now I have this weekend 'off', but the stuff that I wanted to do is *next* weekend, so I have to find a way to talk Harry into going to this cat festival our rescue group is contributing to (after we get this over with, next is Speuterfest 2007…though I have been given no firm date yet). Plus, Meg's out of town at some tournament in (I think) Biloxi that she is doing well in (last I was messaged).

Right now, I am watching Intimate Power on (naturellement) Cinemax. What god-awful crap. I hate watching things like this alone, 'cos I have so damn much fun making fun of movies like this. It is so awful, it's *fabulous*! Everyone is wearing these fake moustaches à la early porn movies, and it is so drama-ridden I am having a hard time clearing my eyes of tears from my hysterical laughter. I need a MST3K-like show of my own. Seriously.

Especially funny was the part where F Murray Abraham (who is the Sultan) calls for Aimee (who is the requisite demure French virgin girl) to go shtup him, and after making muchly with the 'yes/no/maybe/sometimes' (think Harlequin Romances at their WORST) where Aimee vacillates between killing herself to escape such an ignominious fate (all these heroines *always* have potentially ignominious fates – I think the term is probably one of the most over-used stock phrases in the genre) and going ahead and doing the deed using some lame justification like not wanting Tulip – the head harem guy (who is a story in himself; I cannot decide who is copying whom between Tulip and Arsenio Hall's Semi in Coming to America) – to get all killt-n-stuff. And all this yes/no/maybe/sometimes vacillation takes place in the span of about five minutes. You know – as those internal debates always do with us girls. Ummm…yeah. And then, within the span of one lame-assed speech by F Murray Sultan, Aimee changes her mind and shtups him anyway. Cos F Sultan Murrayham is just enchanting like that. Yeah. Because it is important to F Sultan Murrayham that Aimee wants him for *him*, not 'cos if she doesn't do It he is going to have her all killt-n-stuff. Which, of course, she does do. It, I mean. What girl wouldn't, you know?

This was so very clearly written by a man. Snort.

And during all this, *I* am thinking that a more accurate portrayal would have F Sultan yapping on about the natural inferiority of womenfolk or somesuch whilst Aimee gets unceremoniously dumped out of a rolled-up carpet and goes nattering on about how she hears weasels and sees racoons in birthday hats and entertains herself by making vapour-trail hands, then the sex lasts two minutes and she is tossed back into the harem on her tuchas to come down off the drugs.

Now we see why I am not asked to write soft-core porn for Cinemax. Sigh.

Butsoanyway.

I was just messaged by Meg, who said that if she takes Moneymaker out of this tournament, she gets a trip to the Playboy Mansion. Ok, that is too funny. Sexist much, Poker People? He is at her table right now (or was and will be after the break, I don't know), and told someone else (the rest of the table is male) that Meg is the only one he could try to run a bluff on 'cos she was the only one who would not call just to get the trip. Ha.

Anyway, I need to finish up some drafts from the past few weeks since I have today free; the way the past month has gone, I have done little but start one post after another and then abandon it. Grr. I am still doing three jobs, and that may not change until December. I can try to move to a consultancy position on one, but not the one that I *want* to do that on. I have not decided what I want to do. Again, grr.

-----

Stuff I'm late on:

…and then depression set in

Quit Being Batshit!

…and I will clean up more later. Swear.

No comments: