Hair and gone

After writing that post about zombies, I stopped having zombie nightmares which was awesome. No more waking up, heart pounding and feet ready for running because I was half-convinced there were zombies under my bed. HOORAY! But then a new type of nightmare emerged: finding that large chunks of hair had fallen from my head!



Now upon waking I'm forced to check the mirror every day, glaring fiercely at my scalp and trying to decide if I have the same amount of hair as I did yesterday. I've become convinced that it's falling out and I have no idea what to do. Am I being paranoid or just aware? Is worrying about it a self-fulfilling prophecy? Maybe if I am losing precious hairs it's because the stress of worrying over my potential baldness is causing them to fall.


So I'm trying to decide on a course of action. With zombie-related fears one can come up with some sort of plan, but how does one plan for baldness? I could cut my hair way short so it's easier to fluff out or leave it long so I can do a comb over. I could dye it blond in the hopes that if scalp is showing through it will blend in better with the color or dye it brown in case there are just a whole bunch of very light-colored hairs that can't be seen now but will all the sudden appear when darkened. I could even go drastic and buzz/shave my head like a preemptive strike. After all, Demi Moore and Sigourney Weaver have already rocked that look and they weren't half bad!



In the end I'm just not sure what the best route to take is. Oh well, at least I have all those hats and wigs if I should go bald. I can be like Princess Di and make the giant floppy hat fashionable again. I'm sure I could start a fashion trend, since after all - who wouldn't want to be me?

I could totally pull all of these off.

Zombie Apocalypse keeping me up at night

Lately I've become increasingly concerned about a pending zombie doom. I'm not sure if it's because of the recent flood of movies, books, articles, comics, etc. all about zombies; or if I deep down in some ancient and primal part of my soul I sense that it's inevitable. After all, even the Bible talks about the undead (or "differently alive," if you're being politically correct). True, the Bible also includes The Song of Solomon, arguably the giggliest and funniest book of scripture ever, but I’m pretty sure the zombie part is for reals.

This is doctrinal, guys.

Most upsetting about this obsession with zombies are the torturous dreams I've had about trying to survive in a post-zombie-apocalyptic world. It got to be too much, watching all my dream loved-ones either get turned or eaten. Never mind that upon waking I realized none of my actual friends and family were portrayed in my dream (obviously I just love them too much to think of them that way; that, or my subconscious has an outside casting director and my real friends and family didn't make the cut), it was still horribly depressing and what's more, my dream self is always woefully unprepared for the attack. So it's clear to me that this is a warning from a higher power that I need to get in gear and get a plan - a good one - for when the zombies come.

My childhood home had the perfect setup. Conveniently located in a basement room where we kept our dried goods, candles, matches, water, etc. in case of emergencies was some sort of giant cement alcove with a small opening. While I always imagined that there might actually be bodies in that opening (seriously, what else was it for??), it would also be the perfect place to hide my body until the zombies got hungry and went looking for something else to eat. There was food, light, and a few impenetrable feet of concrete. But my family moved to Idaho, and our new basement has no such impenetrable fortress. Even worse, there’s a sliding glass door! I ask you, how will that keep zombies out? I’m surprised that my parents didn’t take that into account when they bought the house.

Oh hey, we *love* that movie! Can we just come in and watch with you?

So now my plan has been forced to change. After reading this brilliant article about how much everyone else’s awesome plans suck, I’ve carefully thought out multiple different scenarios and then one by one rejected them all:

• After my folks’ basement, WalMart seemed the next best thing. But again there’s the glass door problem and also I’m sure that’s going to be a lot of people’s plan. While having lots of people around when the zombies come is good for tripping others and running while the zombies get them (also good in dinosaur attacks), it’s not so good for making the food last. Also, all of those people would just have the potential to suddenly become the enemy, and this enemy multiplies like crazy.
• I could try to find some ancient monastery or convent somewhere. After all, they’re usually isolated, they tend to have a food storage of some sort, lots of books to read, and maybe a really good garden out back. But here’s the problem: already populated with either nuns or monks – possibly *zombie* nuns or monks. Also, those are usually only found in Europe.
• I secretly buy dozens of guns, lots and lots of ammo, and a motorcycle. I become the badass superheroine from the movies, strap all the guns on, and always keep riding. The problem with this is funding. I have no such money for guns, ammo, or bikes. And where would I get gasoline when the zombies have eaten all the gas station attendants? Too bad I'm outta gas, cause I look totally awesome.

So finally, I came up with the only realistic solution: I just give in, find the least aggressive zombie and allow it to bite me so that I become one of them. After all, there are going to be billions – what’s the point in hiding? It’s not like they can’t outwait me since they're dead and have nothing better to do. I’ve already tried out the look, and it’s not too bad. I think I could pull it off. But just know: I’ll be coming for your brains first.

Sometimes I wish I was a guy

Because I just can't see a bunch of girls spending time on something like this:


but it seems like it would be so incredibly fun.

Come into my parlor...

I used to be a peaceful person. I used to try and embody the idea of "all God's creatures got a place in the choir" and "do unto others..." etc. by being kind to all living things, even ants and slugs. Then one day all that changed.


My parents moved to the edge of the wilderness, or at least the edge of a gully that leads to wilderness somewhere. While this means some really sweet vistas, it also means that a doggy door might be a stupid idea (oh hello Mr. Coyote!), and that we get tons more bugs. At first, I was inclined to reluctantly welcome the one or two spiders I started finding. I mean, yes they were disgustingly, fear-inducingly HUGE,
Think this but bigger. And maybe less whiny.


but they showed up around the same time that like a zillion flies moved in. I figured that all spiders do is be incredibly creepy, whereas flies poop in my food and laugh while they do it; and since spiders kill the flies they're an improvement right? Oh how wrong I was. SO WRONG!

It turns out that there weren’t one or two spiders, and they weren’t the plain old wolf spiders I knew from my childhood home of KY. These were in fact dozens of hobo spiders (note: not the satchel carrying, rail riding type of hobo my sister Rachel pictures), and here are some little facts – or at least soundly believed ideas – about hobo spiders:

• They came into my house, not to build a tiny campfire and cook tins of beans, but to do the nasty. Yes, it’s mating season, and nothing puts them in the mood more than hiding out in cozy basements and terrorizing innocent girls who climb on chairs screaming, while uncaring brothers laugh raucously from the upstairs.
  




• All hardware stores and aisles that contain insecticides stock up on sticky traps, because hobo spiders can hold their breath, thus rendering normal spray useless against their super powers. Also, I totally got stuck in a sticky trap and it took me like five minutes to get free. Those are no laughing matter!
  




• They are extremely aggressive and will chase people rather than run away. And yes, logic would point out that humans are a thousand times bigger, but click here at your own risk (these are really gross) to see the possible results of a hobo spider bite. Also, they have eight legs. EIGHT LEGS!! We've all seen Arachnaphobia. I'm not sure which of these two is scarier.

Upon learning all of these facts (or widely held beliefs that I’m not prepared to question) we decided that flies or no, the spiders had to go. We first attempted just to suck them up with the vacuum hose, but while the thunking sounds they made were really satisfying, there were too many of them. So we figured that despite being able to hold their breath (how creepy is that? It implies intelligence high enough to recognize aerosol spray cans!) no spider could withstand a few dozen bug bombs set off all over the house. Take that, suckas!

So, let this be a warning to humans that the hobos are coming, and a warning to spiders: stay out of my house, biotches. We’re afraid to get near enough to squish you, but not afraid to fog your many legged butts.

I don't know about you guys...

But I could totally watch these videos all day.





and this.


Please ignore the coincidence that they are all hobbit related. While hobbits are awesome in their own rights, these videos are just freakin' funny man! I particularly love the idea of Leonard Nimoy's back-up dancers. Oh what I wouldn't give for enormous hair and a time machine, so I could be a part of that video....

Vampires in our midst

So, I once read an article in the illustrious and hard-hitting magazine Weekly World News, where anyone who wants to know the real truth turns, that was all about how Johnny Depp is really a vampire because he has clearly not aged since he first captured our hearts in 21 Jump Street. The article featured this image, which is not at all photo-shopped, and I was immediately convinced:

What kind of monster would show up to a red carpet event with blood dripping off his fangs??


So along these lines, I've been carefully scanning Hollywood for similar vampires dwelling among us. I feel that it's imperative we recognize these menaces because, as I learned from my childhood mentor GI Joe, knowing is half the battle. Below are the vampires that I've found thus far, starting with those who have attempted to mask their immortality (unsuccessfully) with disguises like beards, graying hair, dental alterations, and craziness.

Your beard cannot hide your true nature, Clooney!


I can't tell how old he is in either picture, but his buckteeth crack me up!


You can be crazy all you want, we're on to you BAI LING!


Then there are those, even more annoying, who make no attempt at all to hide their never-ending youth; even occasionally flaunting it and mocking us with their hot bods and devlishly handsome faces.

It isn't fair when 50+ year old women are more sexy than I am. For this they deserve to be staked!






Okay, in this case he may have had some work done rather than being immortal, because I'm just not sure that chin can possibly be real.


Aw, he still has those adorable little boy eyes that made the bullies of the 80s never take him seriously.

Of course, on the other end of that spectrum are those vampires who came into the world looking 60 and went out looking 60.




So, be on the lookout folks. Be ye truly warned that Hollywood is apparently a hotbed of vampirism. Now you know, next time you're at the theater be sure to bring your garlic just in case!

I'm back!

Hooray I'm back guys. We have computers again, and not just an obnoxious laptop whose tiny keys foil my pudgy fingers every time. Even better, we have the computer I always use back up and running, which means that I can access all the special images I pepper my posts with. Oh life is good.

These past few weeks I've solaced my soul by writing many mental posts about how boring Harry Potter and the Movie that Never Ended was, about how horrible I find flies which almost excuses the existence of spiders, and about the possibility that Tim Burton is just getting weirder and weirder in an attempt to see how far he can push humanity. But since I didn't take notes after composing those brilliant pieces in my head, I don't really remember what I said and so I possibly won't actually put them on the old blog. Too bad that you can't all read my fabulous mind! Or maybe this is a good thing as it will save you from yet another whiny post about the money I've wasted on this summer's floppers. Plus, other than the people who were actually at the theater with me, I'm apparently the only person alive who didn't like the new Harry movie, so my post would have been irrelevant anyway.

Instead, I will simply have to come up with new subjects. Feel free to suggest things you'd like to hear my take on. I will be posting more about Disney (a never ending well of darkness), suspected vampires, and whatever else catches my fancy. It's gonna rock!

ATTACKED!!!

So guys, the computer got hit. It would so happen that when the family was limited to one computer in the house, that's when the viruses... virusi... viruseseses* got us. I just wanted to explain where I've been! I've still been having as many deep deep thoughts as I usually do about transvestites and evil corporations, but I've had no way to express them to you because everytime we try and get online, the virus villains slow down and eventually freeze the computer rendering it useless for blogging purposes. Fortunately, there are other compies in the house, and now one of those is set up until the beloved Main Computer can be fixed.

I ask you, who writes virusi? Who has nothing better to do with their time than to sit around thinking of ways to destroy computers? Clearly hackers should all get blogs, then they wouldn't need to be so destructive.

At any rate, if I'm a little sparse in my posts for the next few weeks it's because 5 people now have to share one tiny laptop computer, and there will be blood shed.



*I'm having real trouble with the plural of "virus" here, but I'm too lazy to look it up. So I'll just be going with whatever feels right at the time.

Still alive, but oh so bored

Guys - don't worry. We haven't starved to death. Thanks to Jack-in-the-Box and my dad's excellent grilling skillz, we're making it work. I wish I could say my employer, who for confidentiality purposes I will call Shmirect TV, was as put together as we Mom-less folks are. Due to repeated system crashes (known to customers as "totally scheduled upgrades, we promise we didn't break down"), I am so freaking bored at work. Consequently, I've been thinking of weird stuff.

What, you ask, is occupying my brilliant mind? Get ready: it's drag queens. THAT'S RIGHT! I've become increasingly intrigued by these masters, or rather mistresses of marvelous - purveyors of pizazz, architects of allure, begetters of bewitchment, and rulers of razzle-dazzle (guess who likes the thesaurus). This fascination was started by Hollywood with such fabulous films as To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar and Kinky Boots. Having to sit all day staring at my empty computer screen has given me time to reflect on the brave men who have "way too much fashion sense for one gender," and this reflection has fomented two main thoughts: 1) why is cross-dressing so weird anyway, and 2) why are white men such ugly women?

There was once a time where all men wore heels, silk stockings, and fantastic wigs

To be without a ginormous wig, lead-based face paint (no wonder the nobles were all so crazy), and the perfect high heels would have been just gauche. There are even songs all about it in such musicals as The Scarlet Pimpernel where the main character explains that just as male animals fancify themselves, so should men. Somehow, as time went on women took on more of the burden of grooming, and all men were left with was to maybe use hair gel and shave the beard. Clearly this is against nature and transvestites, rather than being unnatural, are simply gussying up like God intended.

Or something.

Except not white men, because they suck. Take, for example, the lucious ladies of To Wong Foo. On the one hand we have Patrick Swayze, and on the other is Wesley Snipes.

You tell me who is the prettier man. Here are a few others for your consideration.

vs.

Despite all my pondering, this remains a mystery. Clearly, white men are just too ugly to be women, even if I don't know why.

So my friends, while this may have been really weird, that's what the "system upgrades" at Shmirect TV have brought upon you. Pray that our system starts feeling better before my brain gets even more twisted!

Helpless

Despite the fact that I've lived somewhat successfully on my own for a few years now, these last few months I've gotten quite comfortable living at home. I won't say I've been waited on hand and foot, but setting the table and doing dishes is a much easier burden than actually cooking edible meals. However, I didn't realize just how dependant I'd become on someone else's kitchen know-how until my mom abandoned us this weekend.

Before she left she stocked the fridge and freezer with all manner of digestibles; fruit, vegetables, pork chops, chicken, and tons of pre-cooked frozen junk. I scorned the idea that we would not be able to fend for ourselves, that she *needed* to buy all that stuff. After all, she was leaving behind my adult brother, my adult father, and me - the epitome of self-reliance. Oh, how my scorn was in vain! OH HOW WE NEED YOU, MOM!

All of the sudden I open the fridge and feel completely helpless when I fail to see a salad, side dish, and main course of some sort. There are no caseroles waiting for me. Who the heck knows what to do with pork chops? NOT ME. I suddenly remember that when I'm on my own I rely mainly on spaghetti, Burger King, and the Chinese Buffet.

Guys, I think it's possible that if my mom stays away for the 3 weeks she planned... we may die. It's been nice knowing you.

I hate to do it but...

Guys, I have to post about my newest foray into the fabulous films of 2009. I'm sad to say that 2009 is a terrible year for action flicks. For those of you who were gleefully anticipating another jaunt into the realms of childhood through Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, turn away now. For the rest, BE YE WARNED! This movie was like, as my brother David so aptly put it, having Michael Bay and his cronies pee on the audience for 2 hours. Sorry to be crude, but there's really no other way to put it.

The main problem here is that I brought it entirely on myself. Ebert warned me, but did I listen? Oh, my bro-ster and I sat at the dinner table trying to convince our parents to join us, laughing at the poor reviews and smugly stating that there was no way to be disappointed in a movie that you held no expectations for. THIS WAS FALSE! I did expect! I expected to have a semblance of plot, some attempt at continuity and attention to detail, and I expected not to be bored silly by lots of exploding stuff. Who would have thought that *moi* could ever be bored by explosions??! Somehow Transformers did it.

I would go into detail about the ways the movie patronized its viewers; in fact I was so bored during the two and a half hours of redikalous non-plot that I mentally wrote several posts about exactly what went wrong. But I will refrain from blabbing on about the lack of geographical accuracy (at one point a robot falls from a pyramid in Cairo to a temple in Luxor - 313 miles away), Megan Fox’s magic white pants that kept self-cleaning despite all the desert sand she rolled around in, or the way the narrative constantly jumped from point A to point Z without touching on a single point in between; that could get even lengthier and more boring that the film itself. Instead, I think I can better sum up the problem with the film in one statement: apparently Michael Bay feels that all you need for a good summer flick is Shia LaBeouf’s giant eyes and even bigger nostrils, Megan Fox’s hot body (beauty is such a trial for her), and lots of explodey stuff.

In closing I will simply save you $8.50 and summarize the movie now:

Robots fight robots, stuff explodes.

Shia LaBeouf packs for college, stuff explodes.

Bad robots travel through space to distant galaxies in mere seconds, stuff explodes.

Shia makes new friends at college, some of whom are bad robots pretending to be hot girls; stuff explodes.

Robots fight robots again, stuff explodes.

Bad robots, good robots, and humans all race to Egypt to get some random machinery that’s apparently been hidden inside the pyramids this whole time, as well as magic robot fairy dust; stuff explodes.

Stuff explodes.
Stuff explodes.
Stuff explodes.

Stuff explodes.

More stuff explodes.

The good guys win, stuff explodes.

The end.

Disney Part II

Hello my peeps. Once again I've taken a breath, held my nose, and dived into the murky shrieking eel-filled waters that are the wonderful world of Disney. It isn't pleasant, but I do it out of a sense of duty to the world. Also because I have no life.

Last time we discussed image issues; namely that Disney seeks to fill innocent child minds with the idea that mice and squirrels are our friends, rather than the disease ridden masters of destruction and gross tiny poops that they are.

That was truly and undoubtedly heinous on Disney's part, and that alone would be well worth castigating Disney forever - BUT the list of crimes goes on! This post will cover Disney's promotion of violence as a solution to problems.

You doubt me, perhaps. You say to yourself, "Surely Disney promotes only acceptance of oneself and others, love, happy bluebirds, and the ability to sing and dance intricate choreography at the drop of a hat." I laugh at your naivete, and present for your consideration one of the victims of Disney's violence - Snow White's stepmother:

In this sequence we see a harmless old woman, chased to the rocky and rainy cliffs by several small angry dwarfs. You might consider this a fair fight since they're small and she's big, but note that while the dwarfs have spent their days in the mines building up sturdy muscles, the shriveled old woman can't even run without hobbling. Consider the fear in her face as she climbs the rocks with her trembling old hands, attempts to stop her attackers with a harmless giant boulder, and then is flung to her death by a bolt of lightening. Is this really what we want to teach our children? And this scene doesn't even show the two vultures who gleefully and lazily drift down to feast upon her remains. Sick.

Here is the next batch of victims:

(Shere Khan, Maleficent, Gaston)

Please note the fear and terror present in the faces of these characters. Are we to understand that because these are "bad guys" it's okay to tie fire to their tails, stab swords through their hearts, and throw them from rooftops??! Is the idea to teach children that they can torment their tormentors back, and it's okay because they're "bad"? You should definitely tie the school bully up and pummel him senseless, because Disney says that's okay.

Lest you think that these are isolated incidents, let me remove doubt from your mind:

(Judge Frollo, Captain Hook, Sir Hiss)

And what horrendous crimes justify this torture, cruelty, and murder? Well actually, the guys in these movies are pretty bad. But that just illustrates my point further. What Disney genius decided that the proper entertainment for young children is watching evil men like Judge Frollo, from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, burn and persecute gypsies? Oh well, it's okay because in the end a gargoyle spews the FIRES OF HELL into his face, and he plummets to his death. Yeah.

Oh sure, Disney tries to pretend that it's all about feel good musical numbers, equal rights for mice, and happiness for all. But what I see when I watch these movies is a dark and frightening trend that teaches children before there can be happiness for all, there must be gruesome and terrible death for some. Shame, shame be upon Disney! Fie on you for first softening children towards disgusting rodents, and then teaching them that murder and torture are justified if your victim is really mean. *

*It should be noted that this took hours and hours to put together because it was truly and ridiculously difficult to find these images. Even though every single Disney villain that I can think of either dies a horrible death or experiences some terribly ironic punishment, pictures of this are few and far between. I sense a cover-up! The deaths that I wanted to show but couldn't find are Ursula the Sea Witch being impaled, Scar the lion being torn apart by hyenas, Edgar the butler being trapped inside a chest and shipped to Timbuktu, and Lucifer the cat plunging from Cinderella's tower.

HORRORS!

This article about a 43-foot long prehistoric snake is terrifying. Absolutely TERRIFYING.


Not because I think a giant snake is going to pop out of the sewer or drain and eat me (although that idea opens up whole new avenues of fear), but rather because it lends a hint of credibility to all those Anaconda movies.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

(Incidentally, have you ever tried saying "horrors" out loud without giggling at what it sounds like? Try it, you know you want to!)

Disney Part I

Obviously when one thinks of movies for kids, no other company can hold a candle to Disney's repository. But are these movies really suitable for young minds? REALLY? I will discuss Disney's deeper darker malice-filled nougat center in multiple parts, because as I was really pondering it (and I mean really pondering as in I have nothing better to do with my time), I realized that the rotten streak is far to wide to discuss in one post without making anyone reading it fall into a boredom-induced coma.



There are of course the tired old accusations of raunchiness that everyone else brings up, like pretty much everything in The Little Mermaid (the phallic castle, the excited priest, etc.) which are admittedly real, if not easy to see. There are also the supposed subliminal messages in The Lion King and Aladdin, but I have yet to actually hear/see those, and so I don't believe in their existence. That's how I roll - if you don't like it find some other blog.



Anyway, while these things could potentially be describe as "evil," you have to strain really really hard to find them, and five year olds aren't going to notice that stuff; so I discount this as only mildly sinister rather than flat out diabolical. No, Disney's first real crime is the image issue.
Mind you, I'm not talking about the ridiculously disproportionate princesses that will give small girls hopes and dreams of beauty that are eventually horribly crushed by biology (and too many French fries). Those girls will assume that they too will have heads bigger than their waists, feet with no visible toes, and enormous blond hair that's always in place; only to realize that being formed like that in real life would be monstrous and horribly wrong....


But again, I'm not talking about alien princesses. I'm talking about the false image Disney gives to squirrels, mice, and other small adorable woodland creatures. LIES! ALL LIES! I speak from the heart and first hand knowledge when I say that rodents are not adorable. They do not help you to do your chores, mend your clothes, take your morning bath, or foil your wicked stepmother. Instead they steal from your food storage, poop in your pots and pans, scare the bejeebus out of you late at night by scurrying across the floor, and have loud raucous parties inside your walls.


I’m not entirely sure what the plan was on Disney’s part, whether they intended to take over the world using a small but vicious army headed by none other than Mein Maus, Herr Mickey himself; or whether they just wanted to undermine the leaders of tomorrow by softening them up towards rodents and making them weak. But whatever the plan was, I hereby lay bare the lie: mice aren’t our friends! BOO ON DISNEY!

Future bald woman?

It's come to my notice recently that I have an obsession with wigs and head-dresses. I'm not sure if this is an indication that some day I will be bald, or what. Fortunately, even though I can't resist buying them, I don't seem to actually spend a lot of time wearing them. I submit for your judgement the fruits of my compulsive purchases (and I do mean compulsive, not impulsive) -

Going counterclockwise:

~Hannah Montana wig -- purchased for Katie Kearl's 16th bday, and quickly destroyed by a carelessly used slinky. Remember, only *you* can prevent slinky accidents!

~Random Halloween wig -- purchased when I was a witch for a party and then forced onto Matthew Kearl's head for my own amusement along with red lipstick

~Cleopatra head-dress -- actually not purchased by me, but rather *for* me

~Dazzling tiara -- also purchased for Katie's sweet 16 and not-so-subtly coveted by me (spaaarkly!)

~Middle-eastern head-dress? I don't remember where that came from, but I look pretty good (and don't ask me why I always purse my lips - it's a mystery)

~Orange wig -- purchased as a potential Halloween wig but co-opted by David Kearl's friends, and frankly enjoyed by them waaaaay too much

~Green wig -- purchased because it was too cute and made even cuter by Rachel Kearl for some sort of costumed race

Sigh

Have you ever waited with ridiculous amounts of hyper anticipation for a movie, only to leave feeling slightly cheated? Have you ever done that twice? 'Cause I'm totally there, man. Yesterday my bro-ster and I celebrated Memorial Day by watching Terminator: Salvation, and I’m sad to report after the Star Trek fiasco, Terminator was on the same level of let-down.
I've been way into the Terminator series lately, ever since I was temporarily a writer for that website whose name I can't recall and I covered the show Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles as a television critic. Well, let me clarify; I haven't been “way into” the series in the way that some of these lunatics - I mean fans - are, where they obsessively follow each storyline and argue endlessly over time travel, whether The Matrix is a rip-off, terminator robot models, and which John Connor is the hottest (surprisingly, not Christian Bale). I reserve that kind of crazy for more worthwhile things, like Star Trek and Robert Jordan books.


Instead, I’ve been intrigued by the idea of machines developing independent intelligence and trying to kill humans, especially since I’m pretty sure that my car wants to kill me. I also like getting in on cult classics. Finally, I’m extremely intrigued by Christian Bale. Put all these together, add a brain that’s very easily impressed by commercials with lots of explosions, and VOILA! a movie that Susan wants to watch!


Sadly, this movie did not live up to my high high expectations. Firstly, after Christian Bale’s little tantrum, all the promotions about him being the big star, and the fact that he sorta rewrote the script and then spent hours “helping” to edit the film; I expected him to be on the screen the entire time giving the performance of his life. Imagine my disappointment that he was only like the 3rd most important character. BOO! Also, for some reason he was given a very strange and distracting mole on his nose. DOUBLE BOO!

Secondly, the storyline was way weird. It didn’t make a lot of sense and was vague and mysterious in many ways. It seemed to me like they just wanted focus on lots of action, rather than wasting time on a plot. I would go more into this, but the details of the plot are so unimportant that even in a day's time I'm not really sure what they were anymore. Maybe I dreamed the whole thing?

Thirdly, it had maybe the creepiest line I’ve ever heard, as the main character kisses a bald and dying Helena Bonham-Carter and says, “Now I know what death tastes like.” EW! Ew in all ways imaginable! Bald Helena? Death taste? WHAT?
So my final score: B- maybe. I mean it did have some really sweet action scenes, a CG version of Ahnold, and it looked great. Plus I’m a softie and I don’t like to give scores below B. If you watch it, you should do a matinee so you aren’t really really angry at the amount of money you spend; and go in prepared to turn your brain off, enjoy the explosions, and not worry too much about plot. Oh, and (since this is one of my key criteria of any movie) enjoy the attractive men!