I Am A Cranky Little Monkey

I've just been feeling crappy and cranky all weekend, which was not a lot of fun for my long-suffering friends. They were very understanding of my inexplicable shittiness, despite the fact that I wanted to punch myself more than once. Oh well, I'll blame it on the weather. Damn global warming!* CRACKER: Such a good show. British crime shows kick American crime shows in their tiny little nuts. But it's a liitle weird for me to see Robbie Coltrane curse, smoke, drink, and fuck. I mean, he's Hagrid from HARRY POTTER. He is the epitome of good-natured innocence. He's also frigging tiny, but then again in comparison to his obscene tallness in HARRY POTTER, anyone would seem petite. I could probably bite him on the kneecap if I stood on my toes. And Christopher Eccelston! OMFGWTFBBQ! And such. He's brilliant, and so young. OK, here's a SPOILER, so don't read this if for some reason you haven't seen the show, and want to. OK? SPOILER. So don't get pissy if I ruin something for you. Go to the next bit. Anyway, for those few still reading, his death scene is the most heartbreaking thing ever. It's so long, and physically painful to watch. I covered my eyes and had to force myself to watch. And of course Robert Carlyle is the one who did him in. Interesting side-note: Eccleston was in 28 DAYS LATER..., and Carlyle was in 28 WEEKS LATER... Maybe I'm the only one who finds that interesting.* RESCUE DAWN: Werner Herzog for president. Seriously. He would save people from car crashes, dodge bullets, and make ass-kicking movies, all while bringing about world peace. He'd get my vote. That being said, my favorite characters ALWAYS die. Always. Forever. Why am I drawn to people who are doomed? This seems like something I should discuss in therapy, or possibly in a nice padded room away from sharp objects.* I bought a shitload of books this week, because we got that huge glorious discount at work. I bought David Thewlis' book, pretty much solely because he was a genius in NAKED and the HARRY POTTER films. I also bought BROTHER ODD, and another book whose title is too long for me to remember.* It was SANTA CON yesterday. Hundreds of people dressed up as Saint Nick, drinking and yelling all fucking day. I saw a lot of very confused children, and some truly spectacular vomiting. Olympic-quality hurling. The holidays are indeed magical.That's all for now. I'm still in a bad mood, and I think that falling asleep [relatively] early while watching IRON CHEF may be the cure.May Santa not ralph on your shoes.- LV

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