I know I've haven't blogged recently. The sole reason for this is that my life is very unexciting at the moment. I go to work, get hopelessly stressed out over work then come home and keep telling myself that I'll clean my room but I don't. (I really must clean it though as in less than THREE WEEKS VIOLET WILL BE MOVING TO LONDON!)
However, I have been meaning to blog about something. Something that has enraged me. Wait for it...they are remaking Dirty Dancing.
The face that 'they' is Kenny Ortega, choreographer of the original is behind this project is even more infuriating - doesn't he know how amazing the original is?! Why would he want to mess with it?
It's bad enough that Hollywood has become so unbelievably unoriginal that they are rehashing and remaking various films and television shows (sooner or later they will remake 'Friends', then we will all feel really old) but the fact that they are actually considering remaking one of the most loved films of all times? Patrick Swayze is probably turning in his grave.
Now I know that Dirty Dancing isn't for everyone. Many of my friends don't get my fascination with it and think I'm some naive romantic for even liking it. In fact, one of my friends used Dirty Dancing as the reason why I was still a virgin, I was waiting for 'movie love.' (The actual reason was of course the fact that I hadn't met anyone suitable who I wanted to have sex with for the first time. Call me crazy).
However, I think we can all agree that if it's not broken then don't fix it. And Dirty Dancing is not broken so don't remake it! Rant over.
But seriously, don't get me started on the rumours of a third Bridget Jones movie. As if the remakes aren't bad enough Hollywood does not know when to quit with sequels...
Showing posts with label rant of the day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant of the day. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Butt out
I've got a bone to pick with...well, just about everyone I've talked to in the last several weeks. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, is asking the million dollar question: What are you and the cute neighbor going to do when he moves? It's not always phrased like this, but that's the gist of it. And here's the answer: We don't know. And a follow-up question to you: Do we have to know right now?
The cute neighbor and I have been together for about 7 or 8 months, and while that is not an insignificant amount of time, I just don't feel like we have to have our future together completely mapped out. Then when I tell people I want to go to grad school, they assume I'm going to follow the cute neighbor to grad school. Um, no. Then when I say I want to go abroad to grad school, they say, "What does the cute neighbor think of this?" To which I'm always tempted to say "Who cares? The last time I checked, I didn't need his permission to do what it is that I need to do." But I refrain. I mean, I do care, because I care about him, obviously, but my point is I cannot revolve my future around anyone else but me at this point.
Let's say I follow him to wherever he goes. I enroll in grad school. We break up. I am left heartbroken and alone in a city where I don't know anyone and never really wanted to be in the first place. I will regret not doing my own thing for the rest of my life.
Let's say I follow him to wherever he goes. I enroll in grad school. We don't break up. Instead, we live happily ever after with 2 children, a dog, a cat, two goldfish, and a white picket fence. I will still regret not taking the opportunity to study at the school of my choice for the rest of my life.
If it was meant to be, one year apart won't ruin it. (However, open-ended long-distance will never, ever work if you want my advice.) If it wasn't, we'll both move on. Why does everyone need to put pressure on the relationship to last forever? Is it because I've now reached the ripe-old age of 28 that if it doesn't last forever it's a failure? I'm getting really sick of people putting pressure on our relationship. If we're not worried about it, then you shouldn't be either.
If I'm following anyone, it's Fenella, seeing as my current plan is to study in Europe. That, however, is not a problem. You see, boys will come and go. But Fen and I are forever.
The cute neighbor and I have been together for about 7 or 8 months, and while that is not an insignificant amount of time, I just don't feel like we have to have our future together completely mapped out. Then when I tell people I want to go to grad school, they assume I'm going to follow the cute neighbor to grad school. Um, no. Then when I say I want to go abroad to grad school, they say, "What does the cute neighbor think of this?" To which I'm always tempted to say "Who cares? The last time I checked, I didn't need his permission to do what it is that I need to do." But I refrain. I mean, I do care, because I care about him, obviously, but my point is I cannot revolve my future around anyone else but me at this point.
Let's say I follow him to wherever he goes. I enroll in grad school. We break up. I am left heartbroken and alone in a city where I don't know anyone and never really wanted to be in the first place. I will regret not doing my own thing for the rest of my life.
Let's say I follow him to wherever he goes. I enroll in grad school. We don't break up. Instead, we live happily ever after with 2 children, a dog, a cat, two goldfish, and a white picket fence. I will still regret not taking the opportunity to study at the school of my choice for the rest of my life.
If it was meant to be, one year apart won't ruin it. (However, open-ended long-distance will never, ever work if you want my advice.) If it wasn't, we'll both move on. Why does everyone need to put pressure on the relationship to last forever? Is it because I've now reached the ripe-old age of 28 that if it doesn't last forever it's a failure? I'm getting really sick of people putting pressure on our relationship. If we're not worried about it, then you shouldn't be either.
If I'm following anyone, it's Fenella, seeing as my current plan is to study in Europe. That, however, is not a problem. You see, boys will come and go. But Fen and I are forever.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Nuns: A new breed of smug marrieds
I know I haven't posted in a while, but I had to share this with you guys...
Most of the time I'm fine with being a singleton. I have a lot of friends and stay really busy. Yes, I date, but I haven't found that special person who is worth giving up my freedom. Honestly, I'd pick an evening with friends over any of the guys I've been out with since January. So does this mean that it is my choice to be single? Sure, I would choose being single over dating a guy I'm not into. Isn't that how it should be? Why don't smug marrieds get that? Why do they have to imply that there is something wrong with me? My parents had friends visiting this weekend and I had to sit silently while they discussed how their daughters couldn't get guys and only have guy friends. They were implying that there must be something wrong with us. Why else would we not be able to snag one of these male friends? I wanted to cut in and say "I suppose it doesn't help that underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales."
Later in the weekend I was hanging out with a friend who recently got married. We ran into a nun from her church. I had met this nun before and she asked me if I was also married. I'm getting more used to this question; however, I was totally unprepared for her response. The nun told me that she would pray for me. So, yes, even nuns are smug marrieds now and singletons require prayer! What is this world coming to? I was nice and didn't point out the cons of being married to God to the smug married nun.
Most of the time I'm fine with being a singleton. I have a lot of friends and stay really busy. Yes, I date, but I haven't found that special person who is worth giving up my freedom. Honestly, I'd pick an evening with friends over any of the guys I've been out with since January. So does this mean that it is my choice to be single? Sure, I would choose being single over dating a guy I'm not into. Isn't that how it should be? Why don't smug marrieds get that? Why do they have to imply that there is something wrong with me? My parents had friends visiting this weekend and I had to sit silently while they discussed how their daughters couldn't get guys and only have guy friends. They were implying that there must be something wrong with us. Why else would we not be able to snag one of these male friends? I wanted to cut in and say "I suppose it doesn't help that underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales."
Later in the weekend I was hanging out with a friend who recently got married. We ran into a nun from her church. I had met this nun before and she asked me if I was also married. I'm getting more used to this question; however, I was totally unprepared for her response. The nun told me that she would pray for me. So, yes, even nuns are smug marrieds now and singletons require prayer! What is this world coming to? I was nice and didn't point out the cons of being married to God to the smug married nun.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Becoming Bridget
Percentage of incoming callers creating angry resentment for not being Mark Darcy-unless ringing to talk about Mark Darcy-and urged to get off the phone as quickly as possible in case blocking call from Mark Darcy- 100.
-Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
I've been listening to The Edge of Reason the last few days, and when I heard the above lines, I laughed out loud (at the gym; I'm sure everyone thought I was crazy), because that was me last week, waiting in anticipation for John Boy's phone call. Feeling resentment at anyone who wasn't him. (And that includes both Scarlet and Grayer, and I apologize for that. I appreciate all calls.)
The older I get and the longer I remain a singleton, the funnier the escapades of Bridget are. Mostly because the older I get the more my life resembles hers, and that is a scary thought indeed.
**In case you're wondering, he still hasn't rung, and it's been ten days. Either something tragic has happened, or he is indeed an emotional fuckwitt, so unless I hear something from him, this is the last time you will hear him mentioned. I'm tired of talking about him.
Over the last week, my life seems to have taken on the form of some romantic comedy caper. Wednesday was the high (er, low?) point, when I had an earth shattering epiphany as I was getting out of the shower. I eluded to this in my recount of my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week post, but as I was getting out of the shower I realized that this is not the first time a man that I was snogging went away and came back to ignore me. Two years ago things seemed to actually be going well with McNerdy (or at least as well as they ever went with him), when he took off for two months. I heard from him pretty regularly for about the first month. Then as the second month set in, I just had this feeling something had changed. Sure enough, when he got back to town earlier than expected, I didn't find out because he called me. No, I found out with everyone else in the mass email he sent to friends and family. Then John Boy went away for two weeks, and even though I haven't heard from him in ten days, he had continued to email me right up until the day before his return, making his disappearance all the more baffling. Although, as Scarlet pointed out, every time someone pulls The Disappearance on us, we say the same thing. But apparently, while they are around, I can get my claws in them, but as soon as they leave and the claws are retracted, they seem to realize life without me isn't all bad, and therefore what's the point of an actual relationship?
As was documented in my previous post, I ate a lot of ice cream and drank wine while sitting on my couch in my underwear (hot apartment situation out of control over last week's extreme heat wave) after this realization. If I were a smoker, I'm sure I would have smoked an awful lot too (although surely too hot?). Needed calming phone call from Scarlet to assure me am not forgettable and to remind me that I am a woman of substance complete without man.
Thursday wasn't any better, as it found Scarlet perusing horoscopes until she found one that told her what she wanted (mine told me that I was making mountains out of molehills, scarily fitting), that her single days may soon be over, and I found myself googling John Boy to see if his name had popped up in any police reports/obituaries. Today my roommate offered to help me conduct a drive-by of his house, since we certainly can't be discreet in my car, which is the complete opposite of discreet. (But he lives in a cul de sac, so we can't be discreet no matter what kind of camouflage car we're driving.)
Sometimes I can't quite believe this is my life. Googling and facebook stalking a man I knew was just temporary? Considering driving by his house to see if he's there? Reading three horoscopes a day to find one that will tell me I'll meet Mr. Right? (Actually what I need now is one that will give me the winning lottery numbers...) That kind of pisses me off. Not only am I a woman of substance, but I have a lot of substance. I am intelligent and funny, and highly amusing. (I think The Highlander is v. amused by me.) And to top it all off, I have the whole "I can explain the infield fly rule" thing going on for me. I'm practically a walking wet dream. (yes, that's right, I said it.) I know I'm a proud singleton and woman of substance, but is it so wrong to want someone with which to share the substance? And what the hell is wrong with these men for not realizing that?
-Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
I've been listening to The Edge of Reason the last few days, and when I heard the above lines, I laughed out loud (at the gym; I'm sure everyone thought I was crazy), because that was me last week, waiting in anticipation for John Boy's phone call. Feeling resentment at anyone who wasn't him. (And that includes both Scarlet and Grayer, and I apologize for that. I appreciate all calls.)
The older I get and the longer I remain a singleton, the funnier the escapades of Bridget are. Mostly because the older I get the more my life resembles hers, and that is a scary thought indeed.
**In case you're wondering, he still hasn't rung, and it's been ten days. Either something tragic has happened, or he is indeed an emotional fuckwitt, so unless I hear something from him, this is the last time you will hear him mentioned. I'm tired of talking about him.
Over the last week, my life seems to have taken on the form of some romantic comedy caper. Wednesday was the high (er, low?) point, when I had an earth shattering epiphany as I was getting out of the shower. I eluded to this in my recount of my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week post, but as I was getting out of the shower I realized that this is not the first time a man that I was snogging went away and came back to ignore me. Two years ago things seemed to actually be going well with McNerdy (or at least as well as they ever went with him), when he took off for two months. I heard from him pretty regularly for about the first month. Then as the second month set in, I just had this feeling something had changed. Sure enough, when he got back to town earlier than expected, I didn't find out because he called me. No, I found out with everyone else in the mass email he sent to friends and family. Then John Boy went away for two weeks, and even though I haven't heard from him in ten days, he had continued to email me right up until the day before his return, making his disappearance all the more baffling. Although, as Scarlet pointed out, every time someone pulls The Disappearance on us, we say the same thing. But apparently, while they are around, I can get my claws in them, but as soon as they leave and the claws are retracted, they seem to realize life without me isn't all bad, and therefore what's the point of an actual relationship?
As was documented in my previous post, I ate a lot of ice cream and drank wine while sitting on my couch in my underwear (hot apartment situation out of control over last week's extreme heat wave) after this realization. If I were a smoker, I'm sure I would have smoked an awful lot too (although surely too hot?). Needed calming phone call from Scarlet to assure me am not forgettable and to remind me that I am a woman of substance complete without man.
Thursday wasn't any better, as it found Scarlet perusing horoscopes until she found one that told her what she wanted (mine told me that I was making mountains out of molehills, scarily fitting), that her single days may soon be over, and I found myself googling John Boy to see if his name had popped up in any police reports/obituaries. Today my roommate offered to help me conduct a drive-by of his house, since we certainly can't be discreet in my car, which is the complete opposite of discreet. (But he lives in a cul de sac, so we can't be discreet no matter what kind of camouflage car we're driving.)
Sometimes I can't quite believe this is my life. Googling and facebook stalking a man I knew was just temporary? Considering driving by his house to see if he's there? Reading three horoscopes a day to find one that will tell me I'll meet Mr. Right? (Actually what I need now is one that will give me the winning lottery numbers...) That kind of pisses me off. Not only am I a woman of substance, but I have a lot of substance. I am intelligent and funny, and highly amusing. (I think The Highlander is v. amused by me.) And to top it all off, I have the whole "I can explain the infield fly rule" thing going on for me. I'm practically a walking wet dream. (yes, that's right, I said it.) I know I'm a proud singleton and woman of substance, but is it so wrong to want someone with which to share the substance? And what the hell is wrong with these men for not realizing that?
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