millions'a dead kids
"what the time?" is
but i dont wanna tell
any body anything
cause i don't wanna know
any body or any thing
two heads and four arms
dont you know?
that's two people in
So i say:
all cramped in!"
Wednesday, January 19
Wednesday, June 9
An attempt to exercise my literary muscle, laugh and chastise where appropriate. Cheers.
One Fine Day is an American romantic comedy from the mid-90s that starred Michelle Pfeiffer and George Clooney as two single working parents who fall in love through a comedy of errors.
George Clooney is the fucking shit in this film; he spends the whole film being a pretty shoddy weekend dad, with a real chauvinistic and arrogant streak to him. One day he meets this strong, hardworking, ambitious single mother Michelle Pfeiffer, fucks up her day and kind of dicks her around to boot. He makes fun of her and belittles her for a majority portion of the film, she bites back a little but he manages to charm his way out of every confrontation the two have.
The script is that, although these two are polar opposites there's obviously a metric tonne of sexual tension between them, the fact that they have kids is what propels the plot and makes this film marginally different from every other "boy meets girl, they hate each other but secretly want to fuck" flick. As the film plods on both characters find themselves in precarious situations involving their children and their respective careers and find themselves having to rely on each other a great deal at various points in the narrative. Michelle's character spends a lot of time freaking out about shit that single mother would freak out about, and George spends just as much time being the world's most debonair dead beat.
An hour and a half later, it all comes to a head; they're having one of those rom com arguments that sum up the majority of the film and makes it clear that they had the hots for each other all along. Clooney says some cheesy Rhett Butler shit only him and Clark Gable himself would be able to get away with and Michelle pulls a Blanche and quivers in the glory of his masculinity, you can pretty much hear her knees knocking together and her pussy dripping as he leans in to kiss her but then her damn kid totally ruins the moment and asks for a bottle of milk or something like that. She's all pissed off cause he just Vag-blocked her and hurried the little tyke to bed. Once she's free of the burden of motherhood, she tells George to wait a minute whilst she gets ready.
At this point our once independent and headstrong woman is literally falling over herself, shaving her legs and prettying herself up and shit so he can tear her pussy to bits, Which he doesn't even do in the end, cause it’s a PG film, plus old' Georgey is plenty tired out from being such a charming son of a bitch for so long. He falls asleep on the couch, and she cuddles up to him like he's daddy at Christmas and all she ever needed to make her life complete was a George Clooney all of her own.
Yeah, this film is, like most romantic comedies, inherently sexist. There's no way to really dodge that bullet, but what in my opinion lets it get away with that is the simple fact that the deadbeat, arrogant, childish mook of a weekend dad our heroine gives it all up for is George "Confirmed Bachelor" Clooney. A man so roguishly handsome and excruciatingly charming is like kryptonite to any woman, regardless of her ideals or strength of character. Perhaps there may not even have been a suffrage movement way back when if all men in those days were as suave and as coy as George Clooney is on any given day, who wants to vote when you can live out your life in servitude to keenest guy who ever lived?
Tuesday, April 6
I had a really intense dream about haunted houses, robots and people I haven't spoken to in forever.
I can't remember what what really went down in it any more but three key things I remember were playing N64 with an old friend, living in a house that had killer robots in the basement and watching a train go past my house.