Saturday,
January 12, 2008

Competitive cat hurling

AKA what has been happening in the Fletcher manse today. For reasons unknown (but I suspect the rapidly dying kitty grass), JJ is well on his way to losing his All-Conference Cat Splat crown as Jordan has been upchucking in various parts of the house all morning and afternoon -- once in the bedroom, three times in the living room, once half in one of the food bowls and once at the bottom of the stairs. I've been trying to catch him pooping to make sure everything's coming out all right on that end, but haven't been able to do it yet.

Apart from the hurling he seems all right -- drinking water, trying to climb onto my chest every ten minutes, curling up to me whenever possible -- so I suspect it's a passing tummy bug. Still, I'm keeping an eye on him, and the kitty grass has been tossed out and will be replaced first thing tomorrow.

Meanwhile, JJ has been watching all this activity with a superior air and turning to me every so often as if to say, "See? I'M not the one who's doing it this time!"

Meanwhile, back at the cinema...

The Bodacious Brit took me out to see Sweeney Todd tonight, and I experienced a strange bit of cognitive dissonance. As my best friend is the Nathan Lane of mid-central Illinois dinner theater and keeps me up to date on things like this, I know that Judge Turpin is a dissolute rake who sent Benjamin Barker to Australia on trumped-up charges, raped his wife Lucy and plans to marry and thoroughly ravage the innocent Johanna (and before you get on my case for posting potential spoilers, this is revealed in the first ten minutes of the film. And the trailers. Also, where the hell have you BEEN for the last twenty years?).

So obviously he's the Big Bad. I KNOW that, okay? I should be booing and hissing Turpin, blah blah blah.

Except.

He's played by Alan Rickman. Tall, lean, acerbic, utterly edible pardon me while I wipe up the puddle of drool Alan Rickman. And I kept looking at him and thinking, "Hmm, elegantly silvering, a bit of stubble -- I could lick him for hours*. And he's kinky. How hard would it be to get those gold trousers off, anyway?" It's the same problem I have with booing Severus Snape in the assorted Potter flicks -- I know we're all supposed to dislike Snape for being such a prick to Harry, but the only thing I want to do to a certain Potions teacher is plunk him down in a cauldron for two filled with some nice bubble bath and, um, scrub him for a bit.

So, as I said, I have issues. That, and wanting to bitchslap Anthony every time he showed up on screen (oh so pretty, yes, but with a big dose of Teh Stupid), skewed my reactions from what I think Tim Burton expected from the average audience member. Still, not a bad flick, although I would've preferred the musical's ending. And damn, but Tim Spall is magical in pretty much anything he does.

And last but not least

I have apparently developed an inability to spell correctly when I type. Which has made writing today...rather interesting, if you like Freudian typos.

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*A shout-out to you TWO LUMPS fans.

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