That Rat Movie

As I mentioned before, I found it much easier to identify with a talking rat than with a talking car. But there were moments in the film that broke that connection between me and the rat. As soon as there were multiple rats on the screen, I would get freaked out. Masses of rats are gross, they make me shudder. I don't know if Brad Bird did that on purpose or not.

Pixar

Cars was the first Pixar flick I didn't catch in the theatre. It just never grabbed me. I read and heard the reviews, it'"s Pixars weakest effort, but still miles beyond most of the competition." Having finally seen Cars, I would only agree with the first part of that sentiment. I found cars to be dull, not all that funny, and un-engaging in just about every way. It looked fricking fantastic, but that's about it. Unless the car transforms somehow into an ass-kicking robot, I can't really care too much about it.

Transformers still isn't out here yet, not that I expect it to be good.

But yeah, Cars weren't so good.


Ratatouille (the spell check suggested Catatonia), however, is so very good. Fantastic, really. Gorgeous, funny, everything you expect a Pixar film to be. Brad Bird is just... I have to see every film he directs in the theatre. He's earned it.

And the trailer for Pixar's next film Wall E (or whatever) looks darn good too. That quick little snippet of film affected me more than the whole of Cars.

Spamalot

I joined Facebook a few days ago. The amount of spam my phone gets has gone through the fucking roof. Coincidence? Fuck that noise.

Drinking is Fundamental

Crikey, I must've been well in my cups went I posted that last post there.

There is a danger to drinking. And that danger is this: you might blog while drunk. And during your drunken blog, you might fuck up when blogging about what you've been drinking. And I really did Underage Hooker With A Bag of Coke a grave dis-service. I said it contained raspberry liqueur. That was a God damn die. You see, Kishen tries to bring the name of each shot he creates to life. The Southern Comfort is for the dirty. The Malibu is for the underage and the prostitute. That leaves us with the bag of coke. Raspberry liqueur may be a lot of things (it isn't), but it sure as shit ain't no bag of coke. No, this shot calls for Red Bear.

Red Bear is like Red Bull but full of alcohol. What a great frickin idea.

There, now I can sleep better at night, knowing that I've done right by Underage Hooker With A Bag of Coke.

By the way, you don't drink a shot of UHWABOC, you don't slam it, you kill it.

Drinking is Fun

Kishen is going home for his wedding in two days, so we went to Balas to see him before he took off. At some point it was decided that we should be drinking shots. So I got us some prairie fires. That was a good start. Then we started making up our own shots.

Spittoon Juice was way tastier then we were expecting. Southern Comfort, Peach liqueur, and Baileys. It mixed good in the mouth. But it weren't so good as the next shot.

Underage Hooker With A Bag of Coke.

A Wee Bit of Backstory: I was talking to a dude who knows a girl who's married to this other dude who is an RCMP officer, and so on. Anyhoo, I said to this guy your friend ain't ever getting fired, he could kill an underage hooker with a bag of cocaine.

Kishen thought that would be a good shot. So this is what he came up with:
Southern Comfort, Rasperry liqueur and Malibu Rum with a squeeze of lemon. Went down real smooth. Not much goes down easier.

I've been drinking.

What Good's a Mirror Without a Face?

So it has been over a year since last I wrote here. That, y'all, is just whack. But I'm a year older now. A year is a long time. I'm much more introspective and... deep... and stuff.