I will no way in hell be going to Sex and the City 2. I hated the first movie so much that I've found the relentlessly scathing reviews of the sequel highly enjoyable reading. The best of which has got to be this brilliantly irreverent and astoundingly brutal Lindy West piece. I suspect the only reason this review doesn't offend me is because it's so goddamn funny:
SATC2 takes everything that I hold dear as a woman and as a human—working hard, contributing to society, not being an entitled cunt like it's my job—and rapes it to death with a stiletto that costs more than my car. It is 146 minutes long, which means that I entered the theater in the bloom of youth and emerged with a family of field mice living in my long, white mustache. This is an entirely inappropriate length for what is essentially a home video of gay men playing with giant Barbie dolls.
I finally got around to reading waxjism's Void, which jayest recommended to me years ago, and it was so awesome I immediately went and bought The Faculty. I saw it some time in the nineties so didn't remember much about it except that I liked it. And actually, it's a surprisingly clever and well made B movie. Recommended!
I'm three episodes into Sons of Anarchy and I love it. Good Lord Charlie Hunnam grew up hot. I had no idea.
Treme is gooooood.
I just registered my interest in getting discounted Lady Gaga tickets through work for her Monster Ball Tour in December. I didn't used to like her but Telephone changed all that.
Erykah Badu is back in London in July. GIRLS NIGHT OUT.
I just bought some cute little denim shorts. I decided fuck it, I'm going to get my pearly white pins out this summer and blind whoever happens to look at them.
DATE TONIGHT! We're staying in. :D