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

Notes From This Weekend:

• Cadillac Records is fucking awesome. Also, Beyonce is totally not-fail as an actress. I wasn't even a little bit embarrassed for her at any point. Well done, Beyonce.
  
• Push is okay. It has Papa Midnite as the main baddie, and he's cool, but the main dude is like the love child of Dean Winchester and that dude who plays Dracula in Blade: Trinity. Not as hot as it sounds, guys. Also, the cast list was all, NOW WITH ADDED TOM BALDWIN! and then I watched it and Tom Baldwin was in it for like ten seconds before he died. Not cool, Push. We do not go around killing beautiful earnest Tom Baldwin.
  
• Zachary Quinto was put on this earth to torment me. They showed the trailer of the new Star Trek movie and I swear, it's like God is sitting there going, "Hey Froodle, here's a really seriously fucking hot guy for you to stare at, but the catch is, every time you see him on-screen, he's going to be playing a character that you want to kick in the nuts." Why, Zachary Quinto? Why?!
  
• There is a new Fast and Furious movie. Paul Walker was being failsome and excessively American as usual. Vin Diesel was being retardatical as usual. It was all very disgraceful.
  
• CORALINE WHY ARE YOU NOT OUT YET?
  
• Likewise, WOLVERINE MOVIE WHY ARE YOU NOT OUT YET?
  
• Mohinder, you fail at science so much. I am completely filled with distain for you. SCIENTISTS! PLEASE DO NOT INJECT YOURSELF WITH UNTESTED SHITTERY! IT NEVER ENDS WELL!
  
• I really hate Woody Allen. Honestly, I want to kick him in the nuts so badly, Zachary Quinto will probably end up playing him in the biopic. Cassandra Dreams is fucktarded beyond belief. How anyone can take Colin Farrell and Ewan McGregor and turn it into a bloated, self-important, mind-numbingly dull wankfest is beyond me.
  
• Profit is beautiful. Oh Profit. You are my only friend.
  
• The fact that there is yet another Underworld movie makes me hate God.

On a totally unrelated note, the House of Gas has arranged an hour and a half lecture on the Golden Ratio and Fibonacci sequences. At work. For the workers. Except that if you're scheduled to be on the 'phones, you don't get to go, which begs the question, who the fuck is expecting a bunch of phone-monkeys to give up their free time to go to a lecture, at work, on advanced mathematical concepts? Are we going to be fighting crime with them? Will the FBI and adorkable curly-headed mathematicians be involved? No? Fuck off then. I'm just so confused by the rational behind it - most of our retardo customers can't add VAT to a fuel bill without having a meltdown - is this something King Gas thinks is going to be useful in our day to day lives? WHAT IS GOING ON?!

Now that my exams are over, I've been trying to come up with a sequel to Of Stuffed Unicorns and Stretchmarks. Unfortunatly, though I have ideas a-plenty, the giant sign in my head that says "Babies = Bad" is stopping any of them from really getting off the ground. So in the grand tradition of flaky New Age-types and Star Wars nerds alike, I decided to try meditation. Let's just say, it was not my best idea ever...

Froodle: *communing with the Force*
Force: Howdy. What can I do you for?
Froodle: Oh Force, I fear I have accidently written myself into a literary cul-de-sac...
Force: You know what you need? To kidnap Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen and force them to have sex at gunpoint.
Froodle: Um...
Force: Oh come on. That would be totally hot.
Froodle: Well, yes, but...
Force: Search your feelings. You know this to be true.
Froodle: ...wait a minute. You're not the Force at all! You're Darth Vader!
Darth Vader: Damn.
Froodle: What are you doing in my head, Darth Vader?
Darth Vader: Nothin'.
Froodle: You've killed my subconscious, haven't you? That's why my story is going all wrong.
Darth Vader: No...
Froodle: Liar.
Darth Vader: Froodle. I am your subconscious.
Froodle: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Darth Vader: *slices off Froodle's hand*
Froodle: Awww, crap. Now how am I going to write?
Darth Vader: Deal with it.
Froodle: Man you suck, Darth Vader.

Stupid Darth Vader.

*hisses*

If I never have to hear the phrase "It's a bank holiday weekend" again, it will be too soon. I'm one fucktarded whiny customer away from reaching through the reciever on my headset and strangling the person on the other end of the line. Seriously, I spent my lunch break trying out my Force grip on people walking past the parking lot, awaiting the day I can throttle some obnoxious publican dipshit with the power of my mind. Because even if it means ending up a shrieking quadraplegic flailing around in lava while my face melts off and Ewan McGregor bitches and whines about "our relationship" in the background, it will be worth it.

I have come to the conclusion that Van Helsing, Moulin Rouge and Phantom of the Opera do not mix, for the following reasons:

• Gerard Butlers singing is only just tolerable as it is, without being compared to the greatness that is Ewan McGregor.
  
  
• Carlimir as a querulous transvestite is acceptable and for those of us who've seen the London Assignment, actually quite in-character, but Dracula as the Duke is all shades of wrong and leads to speculation about the effectiveness of Dracula singing "Like a Virgin" to Van Helsing versus, say, turning into a big fucking bat-monster. Personally, I found the singing way, way creepier, and I bet Van Helsing would have too.
  
  
• On a related note, "Big Fat Virgin King". Try explaining that one to your friends in the throes of a massive giggling fit.
  
  
• There's always someone who suggests Ewan McGregor should play Raoul, and that confuses me and makes me unsure whose side I should be on. This is unacceptable.
  
  
• Eventually this leads to debates about whether Erik, Van Helsing or Christian would win in a fight. This in turn leads to arguing about whether Gerard Butler, Hugh Jackman or Ewan McGregor would win in a fight. Ewan McGregor loses both times, and that makes me feel bad for him.
  
  
• Anna is even more annoying than usual when compared with Christine and Satine.

In other news, today Alan tried to convince me that my entire life was just a dream, like in that one episode of Buffy:

Froodle: Well for a start, if the whole world was just my dream, it certainly wouldn't include Fat!Xander, Andrew or Spike's Initiative clone. In fact, it would mostly involve naked David Boreanaz. [pauses] And Gerard Butler, he can be in there too.
Jessica: I don't see them working as a couple. I mean, David Boreanaz is pretty much already the American equivilent of Gerard Butler.
Froodle: I see what you mean. Too mmuch sitting around talking about socks and birds, not nearly enough sexin'.
Jessica: Now, Gerard Butler and Johnny Depp, I kind of see that...
Alan: But won't Orlando Bloom be jealous?
Froodle: I'd want to see it just for the catfight between Gerard Butler and Orlando Bloom. And for the hot man-on-man action, of course. But mostly because Orlando Bloom would get bitchslapped.
Jessica: And then Heath Ledger could comfort him.
Froodle: There is absolutely no downside to this plan. I think we should insist that Gerard Butler and Johnny Depp have sex right away.
Alan: Yeah, why don't you write to them and tell them that?
Froodle: Don't think I won't!