by Suw on August 25, 2003
With the help of a couple of my neighbours, I've managed now to get the garden sorted out. Don't think it's ever looked quite so… er, “good” just isn't the right word. That garden has never looked good. Now it looks tidy, and that's about the best I can say for it. However, it's one more task done, one less reason for the landlord to stiff me over the deposit. Not that I think he would, and if he tries I'll sue his butt off, but you know, best not to give him any excuses.
So, now I have the lounge to tidy up. Trouble is, lots of the stuff in here needs sorting out, lots of paperwork and the like. Boring job. Maybe I'll start on the shredding instead – that's always fun. Plus I have all the 'I'm leaving' letters to write, which I hate to do. Should have done them already, but I've been putting them off, quelle surprise.
Ah, my bank holiday is just so exciting. Bet you're all really jealous of the fun I'm having!
by Suw on August 25, 2003
Ok… Here's what I don't get. Why do some men think…
– muscle shirts are attractive
– being drunk makes up for not being attractive
– the fact that I'm nice enough to be polite means that I'm also stupid enough to put up with your shit
– an aroma of stale sweat, fags and beer really does it for us girls
– 'I have to go now' really means 'No, I'd love for you to buy me a drink'
– That the opener 'No, don't get me wrong…' is going to make anything you're about to say even marginally less insulting. Particularly when you follow it with 'you're a nice girl really'
– I have any interest, at all, whatsoever, in any way shape or form in someone who requires several minutes to compose their thoughts and then can only just about come up with 'Eh'
If you are a stupid, unattractive, smelly, drunken oaf, do NOT attempt to make me feel guilty just because, quite frankly, I would much rather gnaw my own legs off than have to spend even another nanosecond talking to you. Bringing me a bottle of wine and then standing on my doorstep pouting like a peeved teenager because I will not let you into my house will not endear you to me. I will take your wine and tell you that, although you may have taken a shine to me, I quite certainly, definitely and unequivocably am not even considering reciprocating. In fact, even the slightest thought of the possiblity of that eventuality coming to pass makes me want to vomit.
by Suw on August 25, 2003
What is it about big, swooping orchestral scores, with rip-roaring rabble-rousing anthems that makes me want to swish my fingers around in the air as if I were some sort of demented John Barry?
Klaus Badelt's score for Pirates of the Caribbean is as marvellous as the film. Particularly The Black Pearl, a track with that amazingly addictive motif that's all swaggering Cap'n Jack Sparrow swashing his buckle against young Will Turner. It punctuates one of my favourite scenes, the stunningly choreographed smithy swordfight. (I think. The soundtrack appears to be only 43 mins long, so it's hard to marry with the film without having the film to hand.) I love the way that their moves match the score – it's done so well that you almost don't even realise because the action and the score fit together so perfectly it's utterly seemless.
You know, people keep comparing Pirates to The Princess Bride, particularly the swordplay. I saw The Princess Bride for the first time a couple of weeks ago, when I was down in Arundel with Kate. I really can't say that I understand what all the fuss is about. Ok, so I know it was an 80s film, and that maybe if you saw it when it first came out you'd have some sort of emotional attachment to it, but although it was perfectly entertaining, and the swordplay was good, I really didn't think it was anything to write home about.
I guess, for a start, it didn't have a score like this. If only there was a way to hum in type.
Give me my kohl, beads for my hair and a tricorn hat immediately!
