Gone Postal, Plus Munchalicious Man Meat

I've just finished a GRUELING work project that almost killed me or at very least almost made me kill someone else. Several someone's in fact. Seriously, all my future rent problems could have been solved with just one small killing spree. Plus, I was sick for the THIRD TIME in less than a month, and could not stop coughing all through it. But, the project went off to the printer, proofs have been approved, and this one's presumably been spanked twice and put to bed. And now I'm only a month behind on all the other stuff that was put off during the run up to the twelve straight days getting this Cheap, Fast and Out of Control project off to press. Ugh.

Things That Annoy Me Today

1) Bosses who sweep in at 5:30pm on the day before a project is due and move everything around while yelling "change this, change that" and then swoop out again, all the while complaining about how over-worked they are. I have news for you Ms. Armani Exchange On Crack, waving your arms around and telling other people to change everything that was already decided on and approved BY YOU is not "working."

2) Co-workers who have given up. I mean, YOU had a weekend, I did NOT, so what gives you the god damned right to tell me "Hey, who cares if it's right or not?" I care, not because I want to please the idiot bosses, but because it's my work on the line here, and I'd rather not be wasting my OWN time, if you know what I mean. If you'd cared just a tad more and put in just a wee bit more effort before you gave me the files, we BOTH could have been home swilling beer into our bellybuttons on Sunday afternoon, instead of just you. Sheesh.

3) Printer's sales rep's. Seriously I do NOT want you to come by to tell me about all your latest "equipment" and I really, really do not want you to try to take me out to lunch. There's no printer in the local area who can beat the prices of those discount print shops in California anyway, so leave me alone. If I need you, I'll email you, in the meantime, fuck off.

4) Bank of America. You know what you did.

5) People who take smoke breaks and then come stand by my desk reeking of death. Get back to work you toxic slackers.

6) Ditto, and even more so, perfume. You know, just a slight misting will do you. You want to convey just a hint of musk, not the entire moose—I don't need to smell you from three blocks away. If your perfume has so much body it can carry it's own luggage, you just may have put on too much.

7) Other people, just generally (except for you dear reader, because I love you, but you knew that anyway).

And Some Movie Reviews

George Romero's Diary of the Dead
Also known as, Unknown Actors Are Having the Best Year Ever! Basically, ole Georgie Boy has jumped the shark on the whole "Blair Witch Slash Cloverfield" thing and made a shaky-cam movie about a bunch of students who, while making a mummy film in The Scary Dark Woods at Night, accidentally make a zombie documentary instead. There's a hella lot of gore, a few funny moments, a poke or two at the (much better) movies that owe everything to Romero, such as Dawn of the Dead and 28 Days Later, some neck munching, some eyes popping out, and one or two interesting twists on the whole "shoot 'em in the head" zombie killing requirement that George Romero originally made famous. There's a truly great scene in Diary involving a barn and The World's Mostest Hardcore Amish Guy, but the rest is a bit "eeh." Boy Kid thought it was okay, even though he doesn't really like zombie movies, and Girl Kid hated it, even though she does. So, that probably tells you everything you really need to know. Of course, Romero's entire catalog and that of all his imitators can't hold a candle to the incomparably hilarious Shaun of the Dead, featuring Britain's most unlikely (and yet totally) edible sex god, Simon Pegg. Now THAT's a zombie movie! Go rent that instead.

Definitely, Maybe
Total Chick Flick Rom-Com, but, oh god, dare I say it, kind of good. The always boyishly adorable Ryan Reynolds deserves a lot of the credit, and even though the predictably bubbly but only adequately talented Amy Adams is busy trying to highjack her career, Isla Fisher proves beyond a doubt that she's cuter, a better actress and has nicer hair. Because of the enormous success of Enchanted, and because Hollywood can sustain the careers of innumerable blonds at the same time, but only one redhead, Ms. Amy will win the Careercapades, but Isla deserves it a whole lot more. Maybe this movie will make Hollywood notice her again. The totally beautiful Rachel Weiz and her Astounding Grecian Eyebrows are slumming hard here, but she's always good so her presence in this movie is a bonus. And, Kevin Klein made me spew Diet Coke out my nose. In his few scenes Mr. Klein easily cake walks all over Ryan Reynolds, but he's also barely in the movie, which was kind of too bad. Mr. Kevin sometimes annoys me, but he's super good in this one, or maybe I just love grizzly drunken literary giants on the decline, which Our Kevin plays with relish, mustard AND a side of slaw. He chews scenery without stopping to spit out the pips is all I'm saying. I, of course, was the only person to laugh at this one thing Kevin does, and do you know how disconcerting it is to laugh very loudly into a completely silent theater? Oh well, I don't care. I have a very sophisticated sense of humor, and all you popcorn munching bovines out there in the dark can bite my doughy but frighteningly large ass. All in all, this movie, and even Little Miss Sunshine Abigail Breslin, manage to just butt-kiss the edges of cloyingly sweet, but without giving us diabetes. Recommended for girls-only night.

And speaking of Saccharin...

P.S. I Love You
I won't lie to you, Girl Kid and I sometimes have no standards at all. Okay, here we go. Gerard Butler proves yet again that he's Total Man Candy. Scores of women already want to chew through his 501's, so I'd only get in the way, but Mr. Butler is pretty much always The Hotness in anything he does. Playing Backup Irish Hottie, Jeffery Dean Morgan (better known as Poor Dead Denny on Grey's Anatomy), deserves a few hordes of screaming pants-munchers himself. The now and forever luminous Lisa Kudrow gives a completely to the point and incredibly intense speech on the joys of male objectification, and someone gave Gina Gershon a job, yeah! Now she can pay her rent. The weakest link is the star herself, Hillary Swank, in fact this whole movie proves once again that it's usually the amusing sidekicks, gay best friends, and the "making the most of my moment" below the line actors who are actually worth the price of admission. Hillary should be sent back to acting school and have have her two Oscar's surgically removed, is all I'm saying. In this flick she's annoying, "pert" and does a death-by-sugar cutesy karaoke, which is all grounds for immediate and violent expulsion from the planet, if you ask me. She does have one bitchin' bod though, but then again, you hardly get to see it naked in this movie, so what's the point? Oh yeah, and Gerard Butler can sing, who knew? Well, maybe everyone who saw Phantom of the Opera, like Girl Kid's boyfriend's mom who watched Phantom on DVD upwards of 300 times (we all wish I was kidding). Given half a chance, Mrs. Miller would chew through Gerard's pants, swallow the zipper and not stop until she saw daylight, if you know what I mean. Her husband must be so proud.

And Even More Man Candy

In Bruges
Colin Farrell, what can I say? He finally stopped trying to be Sonny Crockett or Alexander The Great and went back to doing what he does best—supporting roles in fun independent movies where he gets to keep his naturally sex-on-toast Irish accent. He's very funny in this movie too—waggling those impressively enormous eyebrows of his, pouting, hunching, whining, guzzling beer, crying and generally being the worst hit man on holiday ever. Brendan Gleeson brings the appropriate gravitas to his role as the older and more experienced contract killer, and crime boss Ralph Fiennes chomps his own scenery like he hasn't had a salad in a decade. Guns, girls, sightseeing and a sarcastic midget—could it get any better? I think not. Fun on a bun, even with the abruptly violent ending. (Okay, "little person". But "midget" is funnier, I'm sorry, but it's true. Okay, you can hit me now, just aim below the kneecaps.)

Gosh, now I'm all hot and bothered. Pretty, delicious Celtic boys, yummy yummy. Shoot, I must STILL be heterosexual, it's so unfair.