This post comes to you in Handy, Dandy Bullet Points! Bullet Points: for when you haven't updated in forever, and you don't know where to begin!


* I LOVE MY APARTMENT.


* I want to host some serious hanging out in my apartment. Like, knitting, tea and movies/tv shows sort of things. Anyone interested? 3 blocks from a M/V stop, convenient bus-age for them un-subwayable! Let's talk!


* Talking about knitting, the urge has finally struck me down--I JUST FINISHED PURCHASING the yarn needed to knit...

THE BAKER!DOCTOR WHO SCARF.

I can't even say I find it a particularly ATTRACTIVE scarf, but I've been wanting to knit an obscenely long scarf for a while now, and it is THE Obscenely Long Scarf To End All Long Scarves.

Send help, please.



* Talking about sending help, my consciousness has been COMPLETELY TAKING HOSTAGE BY TOM HARDY. I mean, just just LOOK at this magnificent bastard.

Not fair, sir. Not. Fair.



* Talking about FAIRES, went to the NY Ren Faire. May have to go again closing weekend. I mean, there were attractive ladies swinging swords and preforming abridged Shakespeare. And Nuns. Funny ones. AND I also purchased a new outfit.

My credit card currently HATES. ME.



* Talking about hate, my workplace has been an unhappy place lately. Due to some really, really poor moves on Madame President's part (mainly, not giving credit where it was due, and being obsessed with 1) cutting the budget foolishly and 2) bringing in new part time hires who DON'T know the space like our people do to DO the jobs that OUR people are there to do) people have been quitting. A. Lot. First it was Token!Brit (who left to do producing work on a little Broadway Musical about a man who could be called spiderlike [if you know what I mean], so BULLY HIM!) and then it was one lady in Membership...and today it was ANOTHER lady, who quit EFFECTIVE. IMMEDIATELY.

SCANDALOUS.

Pretty much, my work place-what-looks-like-a-castle is declining a'la Camelot--the golden age was wondrous, but people are leaving because the higher up management is getting worse, and I feel an epic battle and fall is coming.

All I know is that Lady!Boss has been looking for a new position else where...and THAT terrifies me. I feel like I shall be the last knight standing, or Geneveire banished to her nunnery, the last tragic survivor of a glorious era...

Ah well. It still pays me at least.



* In happier news, my BROTHER STARTED CULINARY SCHOOL!!!!....Dear God, may he not drop out. Or get kicked out. *frets*. However, is DOES mean I am obligated to visit him in Providence now. Mwhaha. Mwhahahaha. MWHAHAHHAHAHHA!



* I'm going to go make myself a cup of tea. Tea will make me feel better. Yes. Glorious Tea.
Supposedly it's going to take 2 weeks to set up internet in my apartment. Until Time Warner blesses me with they the meanwhile, I'll be amusing myself by reading Gulliver's Travels, spackling the holes in my walls, and lugging bundles of disgusting diseased carpeting down to the dump. Maybe I'll even get back to writing and--GOD FORBID!--FINISHING a novel. MAYBE I'll even kick myself in the ass enough that I'll start exercising again. There IS a row machine in the basement of my building...

So, dearest internet...I miss you all. I hope to see you all again in sooner than 2 weeks.

...In the meanwhile, if there's anything CRAZY AWESOME internet-wise that you think I should know about..link me here? I feel like I've lost the use of a limb without the internet--which I know is a TERRIBLE thing to say but *wibble*

Ah well, back to work.
The sellers' FINALLY got it together, submitted their paperwork to the Queens court, and on June 29th, I will sign on the dotted lines and this apartment will be MINE. ALL. MINE. Mwhah. MWhahaha. MWHAHAHHAHAHA.

...However, I'm not going to be able to move until at LEAST after 4th of July. My Lady!Boss is taking her vacation then, and as I need to take a day off in order to move (FUCK YOU NEW APARTMENT BUILDING FOR NOT ALLOWING SATURDAY MOVE INS. FUCK YOU VERY MUCH), I might not be able to GET the day off I need until she gets back. This is what happens when you're Lady!Boss's Right Hand Woman. You can't take off the same time she does, because the Universe would COLLAPSE IN ON ITSELF.

Or something.

So, for the meanwhile, it looks like I'll be crashing with a suitcase and a cot in my new place, OR just continue crashing at my friends' apartment in Da Heights. Also, my Eternal Roommate/BFF is FINALLY returning from the West Coast, although only for a few days. And as I want to spend as much time with her as I can...Yea. Fuck you apartment. The closing was suppose to be May 15th. It's fucking June 29th. Fuck you. My friend's is more important.

This whole experience has left a rather nasty taste in my mouth. Overall, it's been a fun, life-affirming lesson about how to NEVER trust what ANYONE tells you because they DON'T have their shit together and are LYING through their TEETH. And how, if you allot what you THINK is a generous amount of time for a plethora of SNAFUs, add some more time, because the best laid plans of mice and men, my friends.

The best...laid...plans...

First thing I'm doing in my new place is buy some coconut water, limes, and break out my spiced rum. Maybe I'll find a fake palm tree and some Hawaiian lights or something. Little Paper umbrellas. Maybe a lei or two. Some cheap ass throw pillows. Kick back on my camping cot in my bare ass apartment. Pretend my life is so much more awesome than it is. If anyone's in the neighborhood, you're invited, natch.

SOOOOOOOOOOOO INSTEAD OF BITCHING AND MOANING SOME MORE ABOUT RELATIVELY STUPID SHIT, HERE'S WHAT'S BEEN MY INSTANT-CHEER-NELLA-UPER SINCE THIS MORNING!:

So, there I'm sitting, watching "Clash of the Titans", reliving my childhood (...and onward) infatuation with Greek mythology and stop motion animation, and wondering why Perseus' crazy yet awesome playwright/poet sick kick/mentor sounds SO FAMILIAR--

IT'S BURGESS MEREDITH.

AKA, THIS GUY.

MY CHILDHOOD HAS COME FULL CIRCLE YOU GUYS.

Thank you IMDB.



Also...my GOD I loved this movie as a child. Rewatching it tonight, I am honestly burning with curiousity about how the remake will be. I suspect they will get rid of everything I like in favor of a inundating it with a "BOO DESTINY BOO GODS THEY IS PETTY AND CRUEL SO LET'S TAKE DEM DOWN!" message.

As I hear, they got rid of Bubos the MECHANICAL OWL OF AMAZINGNESS. If they did, then I donno man...I don't think the hotness of Sam Wothington and all the crackified glory that I imagine Neeson!Zeus will be can make up for such a GRIEVOUS WRONG. Let's just say if I were Zeus and this Bubos-less movie was King Acrisius of Argos who condemned his daughter Danae and grandson Perseus to death by sea, HIS ASS AND HIS CITY-STATE WOULD BE TOAST UNDER MY WRATH. JUST. SAYING.


EDIT: Ok, just read the synopsis for the remake. Hades is the bad guy ya'll. Again. Seriously, what is the God of the Underworld ever do to you!?! He was like, the chillest of the Gods! He really was the least douchey! He only ever kidnapped one goddess! There a decided lack of human female rape in his back story! He only fucks with you if you invade his Underworld, and then you have it coming! For realz, I'd rather hang with Hades any day than any of the other go--ok, Ok, I'd want to hang with Hermes too. But definitely Hades. Hades rocks.

EDIT OF MOVIE FAIL: Just read more of the synopsis. It's Disney's Hercules with Daddy Issues. ARGH MOVIE I HATE YOU ALREADY BUT I'LL STILL TOTALLY SEE YOU OPENING NIGHT, FUCK YOU VERY MUCH.

I'm going to curl back up with my 1981 version. GRRH.
You know it's one of THOSE days when you have this verse from "The Charge of the Light Brigade" on loop in your head:

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldiers knew
Some one had blunder'd: 
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.


For realz, that verse and the fact that it's the Shat Ball is this evening is the only thing keeping me from backhanding a few choice people who, AS USUAL, have sprung things on me AT THE LAST MINUTE, and very blithely asked me to do it all FOR THEM, with an airy "Thanks" and "oh, I NEED it done today" and "I REALLY appreciate this".

And you know what, it's done. It's fine. Because I am Nella and BY GOD I GET SHIT DONE, even when it's NOT EVEN MY SHIT IN THE FIRST PLACE.

*deep breath*
So...I'm looking at buying an apartment in Queens.

This apartment's lease is up in May, and what with one roommate declaring her intentions to leave the country for a while, we've all started the apartment search dance. And beginning, I thought I'd look for a two bedroom affair so I could have a roommate. But...well, maybe I don't want a roommate. Maybe I just want something that I don't have to worry about NEEDING to find someone else to go doubles in. I mean, sure, what Watson wouldn't tolerate or get along spiffingly with the right Holmesian roommate (And I am VERY much one of nature's Watsons)?

But once again, the idea of having a place that I can afford on my lonesome, and not have to worry about renting out a room, or who I can have over when and for how long and how many times--

So, one-bedroom/studios it is then. But good God, how nerve-racking! Is it the right size, layout, enough sockets, is the kitchen serviceable (A REQUIREMENT), is there a balcony (...which is quickly becoming a HUGE desire, I mean, I COULD GROW THINGS THEN. Have a reading nook for nice weather. BARBEQUE! I COULD BARBEQUE AGAIN!), is the neighborhood nice, is it closer to the subway than I am now, CAN I EVEN AFFORD THIS FUCKERY etc etc etc etc...

D:

Also, there's a bit of a...lack of condos. Everything available is a co-op. ARGH! If I'm going to own something, it's going to be MINE, NOT a split in the shares of the entire building so then some board can tell me what's what. Nu-huh. NO THANKS.

ARGH I hope I find my Own True Apartment by April though. I'm going to be cultivating a nice ulcer until then.
Much as I love my office job, all this sitting is KILLING me. Now, it's not like I'm an athletic person, far from it. I'm one of nature's laze-abouters. The internet has not helped that in the least. HOWEVER. My body just can't take that sort of abuse. I just CAN'T sit for hours and days on end because my body will become one big pile of HURT. I mean, I managed to wrack up quite a few aches and pains back when I was working in Archaeology, but at least they were strains and things that made sense. Went tramping 2 miles with 50 lbs of bulky equipment? Ok, that ache in my back makes sense! Shifted wet clay for 6+ hours for an entire week? Well, no wonder my arms are sore (and getting a bit toned, nice). Been troweling through glacial fill of highly compacted rocks and dirt? Of COURSE my wrists and forearm is going to be one long OUCH.

But here, while I'm not climbing under/over tables, running up/down stairs, lifting/dragging furniture, I'm sitting on my ass. ALL DAY. I mean, that paper work ain't going to finish itself!

(Oh, that I wish it would!)

But this is causing…problems. Never mind the knots in my shoulders (friends of mine who can beat a back into submission have described as my body's OBVIOUS attempts at building body armor). I've been trying to stretch and stuff, but I just can't shake this absolute PAIN in my lower back. And if I sit for more than an hour, I have to be careful about HOW I get up from my seat. And then I have to be carefully walking for a bit. Which, like I said, IS KILLING ME, because I'm one of those 'sit down/jump up/throw myself back into my chair/leap to my feet again!' sorts.

The minute I start walking and moving and crawling and crouching, my back feels worlds better. But as soon as I sit? I'm back where I started. I can't help but feel this is my body's way of demanding that I get on planning/creating that farming commune of my dreams. 'Look how unhappy I can make you when you aren't outside in the sun and wind and other elements with dirt under your nails and finagling with equipment and dreaming of the things you could grow in a greenhouse complex a'la EPCOT and contemplating the merits of pre-industrial revolution farming methods and the trials and tribulations of goat-raising' it seems to be saying.

ARGH why must I be such a HOBBIT.
Well...I have certainly had better weekends that this last one. But mainly because familial drama necessitated my return to act as buffer and bomb control. I love my brother, but FISH on a STICK he does NOT make things EASY.

The situation has...calmed for now. One can only hope that with his new job, and school load, things will continue to fall into place and he'll stop giving mom and dad and by extension ME a god damned bleeding ulcer.

bitch bitch bitch...get off my freaking lawn you hipster-snappers! )

*DEEP BREATH*

But I digress. I'm probably only so bitchy about it right now because I'm SICK. Tired, ill, and everyone else in the office is too. DAMN YOU HEAD COLD-LIKE THINGS THAT SUCK THE LIFE AND GOOD WILL FROM MY MARROW!! *SHAKES FIST*

I just want this damnable sinus pressure to go away. I can't concentrate on ANYTHING, which particularly blows because I'm trying to edit this DAMN video footage for this DAMN Man from UNCLE review.

However, my bro did get me a free copy of Sony Vegas video editing software, so there is hope yet for him.

In happier news:

MY PARENT'S FIG TREE! THE FIGS ARE FINALLY RIPENING! I ATE 5 OF THEM THIS WEEKEND!

You know the bible story where Jesus curses the fig tree because it didn't have any fruit on it and it withers instantly and dies and you're thinking 'JESUS CHRIST, overreaction much?'? YEA. I NOW TOTALLY SYMPATHIZE WITH JESUS IN THIS MATTER. )
Dear Thursday;

I'm not going to blame you for today. For some reason, I have this nagging sensation that you are just as much an innocent bystander of today's fuckery as I am. In my heart of hearts I know that this morning wasn't a personal attack on your part, but rather the UNIVERSE at LARGE stacking the cards against us. So, while I was bashing my head against my desk, trying to upload the fan film and failing, and while my morning commute was dragged to an unthinkable one hour and 45 minutes (the same time it takes, might I add, to travel from from St. James to Penn Station on the Long Island Railroad…which is a 50 MILE TRIP), I know you were feeling my pain.

Don't worry, Thursday, I shan't ever hate you. I've too many fond memories of you being my last class day during college, of joyous college club meet-ups in your afternoons, and of slaking my thirst for the brewed and distilled with you by my side in your evenings.

Fear not, Thursday. The internet and the MTA may hate us both, but I've got your back.

Your Beleaguered One in Arms,
Nella


---

In other news, anyone interested in going to see Inglorious Basterds with me after work tomorrow? Or, if that doesn't float your boat, I'm up for seeing District 9 again. Although, damn, I still need to see Ponyo.

Any takers? I'm a marvelous movie date, I really am. I'll hold the door open for you and stand in line for you and everything!
Dear MTA,

I’m your bitch. I know this. I’ve never denied it. In fact, there have been times I’ve quite willing bent over for you when I could have saved myself a lot of grief and misery by just hopping in my car and driving. For you see, I’m in love with you. Yes, I confess—I LOVE YOU. I love that, IN THEORY, I can get to point A to point B quickly and conveniently at a reasonable charge and in a mode of transportation that is the very backbone and soul of the city I love. I love your history. I love your quirks. I love that you get me off my fat ass and make me walk. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I think of other cities I could hypothetically live in and I shudder, SHUDDER at the thought of being away from you.

But the thing is…the THING is…

It’s not working anymore. You’re getting a little too rough for my tastes. It’s becoming less knowing my place and feeling secure there, and more abuse. I mean, between the hikes and the cuts and the (ok, ok, PROBABLE) money laundering and the lack of service, I’m starting to think I should have listened to my mother about you. And the trouble is, I can’t leave. I mean it, I can’t. I’m totally dependent on you. Well, not totally, I do have a car after all, but it FEELS that way. I’M EMOTIONALLY DEPENDENT ON YOU. How you are running completely determines how the rest of my mood and day are going to play out. I AM WRAPPED AROUND YOUR MULTICOLORED NUMBERED FINGER.

So, more cuddling, less whips and chains and ballbusting; y/y? I mean, I’m all for a good old fashioned public transportation clusterfuck or SNAFU—but let’s make them a little rarer so we can draw out the enjoyment more. Absence; it makes the heart so much fonder of pain and misery.

And let’s not have them on Monday mornings anymore.

Or Tuesdays.

I could never get the hang of Tuesdays.

Cordially yours,

Nella
So, on top of saying "sangwich" instead of "sandwich", and "headacke" instead of "headache", supposedly I say "draws" when I'm talking about "drawers" (you know as in a cabinet drawer). I've never really noticed this before, but I have L. in my office to thank for this round of self-enlightenment, as she tricked me into saying "drawer" several times before I realized the look on her face was not one of confusion from mishearing me, but of glee at my pronunciation of the word in question. This is like the time one of the maintenance guys stopped me dead in my tracks as I was crossing the Drill Hall, insistent that I must be from the south and whereabouts was I from based solely on the way I had said "visited my dad". Oye Vey.

Do you know how LONG it sometimes takes me to convince people I am actually from Long Island, that no, I'm not a transplant from the South, or the West, or Canada, or Minnesota, or Boston, OR Ireland, so some other accented place???

And she's still yelling "Drawer" at me at random intervals over the filing cabinets. So glad my accent of strangely-difficult-to-place and that likes to fuck with random words brings such joy to others' lives.

*HEAD DESK*
Tiles. Or specifically, researching floor tiles for a new break room at work, when you haven't been told what color or size tile is wanted, except that they sorta kinda figure vinyl tiles will work. AND I don't even know what sort of aesthetic they're looking for. Honestly, all I want to do is run to Home Depot and try to get my hands on a ton of samples so I have at least SOMETHING to show the president, so she can decree what look she deems classy enough for us, thereby narrowing this search down by like, A TON.

BLEH. I hate shopping for home decor. Isn't that what the womenfolk are for? Myself excluded?



AND COULD SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THIS DAMN RAIN TO GIVE IT A DAMN BREAK ALREADY???? SURELY, SURELY THERE IS ANOTHER STATE IN THIS DAMNABLE UNION THAT NEEDS THIS RAIN MORE THAN WE DO.
England, I love you. You know this. I love you like the older, quirky half brother I might actually have (ah, the joys of being adopted). Your history, culture, patterns of speech, comedic turns, good times and bad amuse me greatly. You know that, push come to shove, I'd help John Adams drop kick Thomas Jefferson in the face if I could for saying France was better than you. And I know you're a nanny state, and your royal family is silly, and you're neck in neck with America for the title of "White Trashiest Country in the World", but your flaws...well, they've always been part of your charms.

But Good God, England, this is going too far.

England, you need another Chesterton and a good smack upside the head. Now, I know I could never hope to fill the intellectual shoes of that man, but don't make me come over there with a couple of friends and A Flying Inn.

I mean, my brother and I had HIGH HOPES--mainly involving you, us, a whirlwind run around Cornwall and a pub crawl throughout your land. My brother and I HAD A TOUCHING, BROTHER/SISTER BONDING MOMENT over this. DON'T DO THIS TO ME, ENGLAND.
ink_n_imp: (Indie Snakes On a Plane)
The fate of the MTA fare hike and of commuting NYers' everywhere rests in the hands of a couple of Long Island legislators?

...Holy crap. We are SO FUCKED.

I'd go into my MTA rant here, explaining to all your non-NYCers what's going down and why this is like the End Times for all us poor commuting folks what depend on public trans for our ENTIRE LIVES but...shit son. I just don't have the energy for it.
Not even lunch time and I’m already contemplating my 3rd cup of coffee. And the knots in my left shoulder are so tight today, I can swear my body is trying to construct organic body armor. OW.

How is it that coffee tastes a THOUSAND times better when you put the milk and sugar in the mug BEFORE you pour the coffee? Does the pouring coffee fluff up the milk, making it yummier? But it also makes the sugar somehow sweeter. This requires more testing. TO THE BREAKROOM!
Things Nella Learned Today: Should the power go out and my car's in the garage, I am unable to escape the confides of my house. How-to-open-the-garage-door-manually is getting top-priority rushed to the top of my list of things-my-father-still-needs-to-teach-me.

Luckily, the power returned after about a half hour, and I was able to escape after all. I'm at the library right now, trying to figure out what to do with myself this summer. Oh, why can't it be EASY to decide the course of one's future?!? Why can't I just be closedminded enough to only want to do ONE THING with my life, instead of figuring I enjoy a lot of things and should persue them all?!

So far, I've narrowed my summer down to three things:

1) Going back to the University of Maryland's field school. The UofM is my number one grad school pick, and I figure the best way to hedge my bets in the hopes of getting into their program is to intellectually and manually whore myself for them at their 6-week field school. Show them what I'm made of, that sort of thing. Of course, if my life was a movie, this could horribly backfire as I make a series of humorous but damning mistakes, resulting in bodily injury and property damage, but luckily, my life's NOT a movie, so it's worth a shot.

2) Actually taking the Mercyhurst College Forensic Anthropology Short Courses; I figure if reconstructing a staged terrorist crime scene (among other things in the 4 week-long courses) can't convince me one way or another of if I'm capable of stomaching, learning and mastering forensic anthropology, then I'm really screwed. But I've had this itch of "what if" in regards to forensic anthropology for years now, and I figure if I don't scratch it soon I may have regrets if I try to go straight into an Historical Archaeology master program.

Damn you, "What If". You are indeed my oldest and foulest foe.

AND:

3) Continuing to work at Greenhouse and doing diddley squat otherwise. Not something I WANT to do, but I know me, and I'm lazy as sin. We're trying to avoid this one though.

Considering that all these things start in June...Yea, I really need to get on that. NOW.
Or...

Wait, does this mean I have a job?

Well, first things first, I can honestly throw down the gauntlet and claim with big brass balls that Prince Phillip from Disney's Sleepy Beauty ain't got SHIT on me. He may be one of Disney's most awesome princes, but he had the help of three fairy godmothers, a nifty sword and shield, and a horse that knew what was what. All I had was a pair of leather gloves, clippers, a machete, and a grizzly and pissy archaeologist in his 60s yelling at me from the safety of his surveying equipment.

…Ok, so HE had to face the Mistress of All Evil afterward while all I had to do was backfill units, but STILL.

Short of the long, we had to survey through a gorram briar patch nearly 8 feet high on Tuesday, which had large pointed thorns which dug into my flesh and didn't want to let go. Throw on top of that that this thorn jungle was growing over and concealing large mountains of concrete that had been dumped back when the Hess station on the corner was built (thanks guys for covering our archaeological site with your concrete!…wasn't even your fucking property, asshats), and you have yourself a veritable death trap. Seriously, one wrong step and you'd find yourself falling face first into a valley that just happens to be filled with all sorts of bloodthirsty thorns.

Oh, and while within this jungle I also slid five feet into a junk dump that was filled with old fences and really rusted and pointy metal things.

Oh, and on top of that, the dig was shut down just long enough for me to spend the night in the motel, drive home the next morning, and find 3 voice mails on my phone that evening saying the dig was back on. OMG I really hate NY state and lawyers right now. REALLY.

I'm going back up to Fishkill Monday evening, and am going to try to work at the site until Friday. However, some good may come of this…I MAY have an office job with this company once the dig is done. Paula, the woman from the office, asked Bill, the field director, if I might be interested in working in the office full time. He gave me a call to see if I'd want to, and HELL'S YES. So, I've finally given Target my two weeks notice.

…Oh PLEASE I want that office job. 40 hours per week, and 13 an hour, and at a place that the fact I have a major in anthropology actually matters? Damn it, I'll use that long commute for sleeping or come November for Nanowrimo writing!
For what was a good day, today was really miserable.

A big "FUCK YOU" to Nostalgia and bad memories.





The edition of Antonella emo!angst brought to you by The Atlantic: The Atlantic, separating people from those they love since 1492!


EDIT:

Mr. Adams, a man of God (seriously, the man was a Christian is the greatest sense of the word) and best goddamn Political Science teacher, and best goddamn teacher at my old high school, is dead.

Just....Fuck.
...The in-post production Kronk’s New Groove continues the adventures of the breakout character from 2000’s unashamedly cartoony Emperor’s New Groove. (At the time, one critic called Patrick Warbuton’s voice work as the kind-hearted but dim-witted henchman “the funniest comedy performance of the year.”) The DTV is being directed by DisneyToon team Saul Andrew Blinkoff and Elliot M. Bour. According to Bour, “The original didn’t do incredibly well in theaters but it turns out to be one of those fan favorites that everyone you talk to seems to love. We decided to explore his character even more by giving him a love interest [voiced by Tracy Ullman] and a relationship with his estranged father [Frasier’s John Mahoney].”

Blinkoff adds, “We wanted to make it a heartfelt movie that you could walk away with laughing, but having a good theme — stay true to your groove — which is actually a song in the movie."...

...Other ideas in development at DisneyToon Studios include a non-TV pilot Cinderella III (built around the stepmother using the fairy godmother’s magic wand to turn back time)...

...a Peter Pan inbetween-quel exploring Tinkerbell’s adventures in ‘Pixie Hollow’ with an assortment of fairy girlfriends...


From Animation World Magazine

Ok, ok. First things first: Kronk is my love bunny. Any character that calls his shoulder angel "Shoulder Angel" is just cuddles worthy in my book. But love interest? Estranged father? What, was he's father upset that his son was a girly junior chipmunk or something? That he was too busy conversing with woodland creatures and not spending enough time on the farm? Was he angry that Kronk went off to the big palacey type thing to find his fortunes working for Yzma? And let me guess, no girl can resist his spinach puffs. But this IS Kronk we're talking about--even the tried and hankneyed might become WONDEROUS in relation to Kronk.

But!!!!

WHY. THE. FUCK. Is Lady Tremaine of Cinderella fame now SOOOOO EVIL that she would steal the fairy godmother's wand and use it to...yes, you read it...TURN BACK TIME. Is it SO difficult to hire a new servant since Cinderella left, that she has to GO BACK IN FREAKING TIME to...I donno even KNOW what--stop Cindy from going to the ball? Get one of her girls to be the "Cinderella" of the family instead? Get the Prince herself? Make sure Cinderella did all the laundry and dusting BEFORE she went to the ball and became the Prince's main squeeze, so Lady Tremaine wouldn't have to do it later?

WTF?!?

And the last thing we need in this world is more Tinkerbelle. In my mind, it's a DAMN good thing that Peter in Barrie's book completely forgot about her once she "disappears" (though, I'm quite sure he capped the whiney bitch and feigned memory loss) cause we need to take a page out of Peter's book. Let's all forget that Tinkerbelle EVER HAPPENED. I don't care if she is the 1960's version of a raging sexpot. I don't care if Hot Topic is selling all sorts of Tinkerbelle shit. Hot Topic isn't cool to begin with. No, my friends, Tinkerbelle needs to die, her and every single one of her "fairy girlfriends". Girls! STOP BUYING TINKERBELLE SHIT!!! I'M FUCKING SICK TO DEATH OF TINKERBELLE!!!*

If I could, I would stick Tinkerbelle on a fork, eat her, and then floss my teeth with her glossy wings.

*Simmering ANGER*

*Foam at mouth beginning to recede*




*If this was [livejournal.com profile] singealiene posting, there would have been a description of a Hades flame explosion right THERE.



EDIT: Oh, and be sure to scroll all the way down to the bottom of the fourth page to the "A Look at a Few DTV Sequels" text box. The poor bastard who wrote this article tried to justify a few of the sequels, like Hunchback II, Lady and the Tramp II, and the last storyline of Cinderella II. *GLARE*

LION KING 1 1/2 WAS NOT FUNNY!! IT WAS ALL RECYCLED ANIMATION AND FURTHER PROOF THAT TIMON AND PUMBAA ARE TOTALLY GAY FOR EACHOTHER!!

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