ass-lazy tropicana of the mind
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2002-04-20
DVDs, movies, and pom-poms, baby!
Another really busy Saturday spent shopping and seeing movies -- we're such junkies.
We went down with my sister-in-law to do some shopping -- grabbed random crap in Boots, as we do. New hair dye in a vain attempt to go back to that purple I had before it all went horribly brown and vitamins because I'm trying to get myself a bit healthier.
But it was a positive warzone in there -- all huge prams and slow old ladies. You wouldn't believe how long it took us to get anywhere. And then waiting for my sister-in-law to decide that she was done shopping....ay....
But then we hightailed it to WH Smith's, where we were going to pick up Angel season 2 on DVD.
See, they currently have this offer where if you buy one dvd, you get another dvd half price. So when you bought Angel for �69.99, you got the second for �34.99. Which, when you work it out, it comes out to a little over �52 each.
Which is the cheapest anywhere. So you get a friend, you go "Man, do you want Angel season 2?" and, boom, you've got cheap DVDs.
And it's season 2! Come on! How fabulous could it possibly be?
And then we went to see The Scorpion King. Which desperately wanted to be Conan The Barbarian. Desperately.
Like, they were sitting there and went "Hmm...we have a wrestler, they had a bodybuilder, it can work!"
And it really should've been just like Conan but, unfortunately, the direction wasn't right and the Rock, well...
He was really good shouting "Haku Machente!" or however it was spelled in The Mummy Returns but an entire movie? No, it doesn't really work.
But the Sorceress (who actually didn't have a name, she was just "the sorceress," the hell?) was hot. And wore very little clothing most of the time. So you don't see me complaining.
Besides, there was someone sitting behind me who deserved most of the complaining.
He was cold. Or he was bored. Or maybe he was itchy. Either way, every five minutes or so, he needed to rub his palms together very quickly.
Or I think they were his palms. He might've been sanding a table for the sounds it was making. I mean, jesus, I was about to hand him some lotion and just say "Sir? I think you need to either moisturize or fucking stop it!"
And the girl he was with wasn't much better. Bored and fidgeting. How can I be expected to make fun of a movie if there are people being annoying behind me?
Ugh, the sound of that guy's hands, though. It's still putting me on edge.
We went to the cinema store as well, and, whilst staring at the collected scripts of Blood Simple, Miller's Crossing, Raising Arizona, and Barton Fink (oh how very much do I need one with Fargo, The Big Lebowski, O Brother Where Art Thou and The Man Who Wasn't There?), I caught something in the corner of my eye.
I pulled it from the other books and promptly fell over.
Bring It On, the young reader's novellization.
And promptly had to buy it. Do you blame me? No, of course not.
Unfortunately, it's really bad.
No, really really bad.
Removing-all-references-to-homosexuality-bad.
Is Les gay in this book? Hell, he doesn't even have a part! Is Missy "dykeadelic"? No, she looks like a roadie for Korn.
Wrong on so many levels. But it does include the final scene that was part of the deleted scenes on the DVD. And makes me happy.
Tor and Isis cheering off and fucking behind the bleachers while lying on pom-poms...you know it, baby!
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