Baby Don't Get Lost in that Evil World

Today, after a big day of uni, I went into the city to buy some Hitchcock DVDs from JB Hi-Fi. One of them was Rope, my favourite film from last semester, and a just all around amazing movie. Not so well known as some of his others, but so, so good.

So, just now, while going through my uni bag, I see the DVDs in there, and decide to take a closer look at the cases. I pull out Rope first. I smile. I look closely. I notice the weird font. I notice the picture of Jimmy Stewart. I have a bit of a giggle at how incredibly subtext-y the picture of David dying is. I notice the sticker in the top left hand corner with a picture of Alan Jones and informing me that he recommends this movie.

I explode into laughter.

Alan Jones. Has a recommends series.

And it wasn't just stuck to the plastic, either, it's on the case itself. I mea-- I don't even, like, why? What does Alan Jones have to do with anything? And, I mean, I never even hear anything about him except when he's said something crazy or incredibly offensive. It's a lovely picture of the man, but I honestly don't care about Alan Jones's taste in movies. This is the strangest marketing strategy.

Also, come to think of it, isn't Alan Jones massively homophobic? To the point where many people think he's rather in denial? Yet he's recommending a film that contains extremely obvious and unignorable homoerotic subtext that Hitch thought was so integral to the piece that he worked it in despite the restrictions of the hyper-conservative Hayes Code.

I'm sort of tossing up whether or not to remove the sticker. On the one hand, I want my Hitchcock all nice and sleak and unsullied, but on the other, the thing is hilarious.


I actually went to JB because I wanted both Rope and Vertigo, and I wasn't sure I'd get them both anywhere closer. I wanted Rope because I love it, and Vertigo because I'm so in love with Hitchcock in general right now, and I'm presenting and writing on it for Modes of Viewing this semester and want to watch it this weekend. Both star James Stewart, who is qucikly becoming a favourite actor of mine. But I'll talk about that another time. Possibly at length.

So, I went shopping for my two highly thought of, brilliant pieces of classical cinema, directed by one of the most famous, influential, brilliant directors in cinematic history. So sophisticated are my tastes! So impressed anyone seeing me with them must have been! However, Vertigo being on a 'buy 2 get 1 free!' shelf, I also left with Spiderman 3 and The Fast and the Furious.

I think that's much more impressive really.


( Stella's Ridiculous Adventures in Giantwooliesland )

Ohmygod. Can't stop laughing.

Mum and Dad were in the loungeroom watching TV, and they left the glass door open rather than get up all the time to let the cats in and out. I'm sitting in the office at the computer, when I hear and partially see, "she's got a mouse there!" followed by them getting up to shoo Mishka outside.

I chipped in an "EWW!" 

Then Mum says, "Just watch that mouse, it might not be dead." There's more shuffling  about - I was told that Mum had a tissue and was going to pick the thing up once she was convinced of its passing from this mortal coil - then, "John, watch the mouse it might not be - UGGGGH, IT ISN'T DEAD!" 

Mum makes a couragous attempt at wrangling it, but then I hear a shrieking "IIIIEEEEEEEEHHH" as it moves towards her; a signal for Dad to take over.

I hear him moving quickly, then partially see him leaning over. Mum, her voice now coming from a completely different part of the room than before and making clear where her priorities stand, calls out, "Not with my slipper, John!"

Dad's still trying to catch or kill or shoo out the mouse in some way, and I see him bend down closer to where it must be. I then hear him say (very unmanishly), "WAAAAH! EEEERRWW!" as he jumps back and flails a bit.

I learn after the incident that the mouse didn't have much energy, the poor little thing, and that Dad had it trapped up against the TV cabinet. As it runs about, Dad follows it, having discarded the slipper due to Mum's disgusted insistance, continuing to make disgusted shivers and very unpleased noises. I continue to add ew ew ew!s from the office, while laughing at Dad's shrieks and Mum's slipper, and Mum and Dad desparately argue over what to do before it gets away, or, worse, touches their feet.

"I don't want to touch it, it's icky!" Dad whines, with all he valour of an Arthurian knight.

Then, the mouse makes a break for it. Dad darts after it as it heads towards the couch. It's going to go under it! We'd never get it if it got under the couch. So Dad dives, and, in a last, desparate attempt to stop it, brings his hand down on top of it.

Mum calls out to tell me he's killed it with his hand, and I add more hysterical (with laughter) ew ew ews. Dad, massively creeped out, throws the poor (possibly not even dead yet) mouse outside and goes to wash his hands.

He is now comforting himself in the pay TV room. Mum and her slippers were saved a very disgusting moment, and I will be carefully avoiding that spot in front of the couch for some time. The cats are, needless to say, in disgrace. Mum spoke very sternly to one of them a moment ago when it meowed asking her to let it in.

It was all so beautiful.

Really, considering the fact that I stumbled upon a baby brown snake down the hallway at 1am the other week they should have known better. I had to wake Dad up and he had to kill the thing in his undies while half asleep. Oddly, he was much happier almost nakedly facing a lethal snake that moved quickly and refused to die than he was a small injured mouse while fully clothed.



(Also, Hiii! I'm back from New Caledonia. Will talk about that later. This just seemed far, far more important.  XD *dies*)

This gag should not be able to remain funny for a full two and half minutes. Really. It's like the silliest idea ever. But it is genius.




And this. Just... this.



Genius.

It's a very silly thing to do, but hey, I had time & it's a bit of fun, and in the end it was LIKE IT READ MY SOUL.

 



Entirely unrelated, buy omifeckinggod Randy Newman is white? When did that happen? I was so sure I'd seen him before, and he wasn't white then. Was he?  O_o   Wtf, self? 

Ohmygod. You'd think I'd know by now.

We have family visiting, and one of my cousins and I had to start talking about Dr Who. Because, well, that's what we do. And I made the mistake of bringing up Blink. You know, the frecking freaky one with the angels? The one that I screamed in? The one that resulted in me having to turn on my bedside light and look around in every direction every few minutes while trying to sleep because I kept thinking about it? That one.

Then our younger non-Who-fan cousin asked what was so scary about it, so I did the peaceful-hands-over-face pose then suddenly reverted to the fangs-out, claws-out, an-inch-from-her-face pose to demonstrate (which worked, she looked suitably terrified). 

After that I didn't give it a thought. Until last night. In the shower. At 2am. When there was no one around and nowhere for me to go. And the bathroom window was opposite me, all big and black and open, through which anything could see me without being seen themselves. And I kept getting the distinct impression that something was watching me from behind, even though that is totally impossible because there were only a few inches between me and the shower wall. So I had to look, and whenever my eyes were off the window, I half expected that when I faced it again there would be an angel frozen swooping down on me, mouth open, face distorted, claws grasping. And there'd be nowhere for me to go, because I was naked and dripping wet, and I'd never get out of the shower cube and the bathroom with out having to blink, I'd barely be able to move at all out of shear kzjsdgh TERROR.

But of course there was nothing. Because I ALWAYS FREAK MYSELF OUT BECAUSE I AM A WUSS AND SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED TO WATCH SCARY THINGS. You'd think I'd be over it by now, but I was fracking scared, man. 

Curse you Who.

Still, best episode ever, if I do say so myself.

 

...Why the hell is Big Brother still on? Okay, so, I'm used to reality shows going overtime, especially the final episode (as tonight is), but what I don't get here is that the TV guide has it scheduled to end at 9:15 (it is now 10:00), which is earlier then Torchwood - which is on next - would normally start anyway. Why would they give themselves 15 minutes less scheduled time, especially when they know they will go overtime anyway? 

Maybe it's a  typo in the TV guide, whatever, still, I don't like having to wait an extra hour to watch a show. And I rarely want to watch Big Brother for an extended period of time. Nothing's even happening. Just a lot of yelling and stuff. 

...Wait, it's ending! It can't be ending!  ..Who won?!

Damnit, I sat here for all that time and it just goes and ends. Ungrateful bastards.

And, on a totally unrelated note: I need to turn the heater down.