For a writer, I sure as fuck didn’t do my entertainment industry research this year. I’m pretty sure I only saw maybe three or four Oscar-nominated films this year.
One of those movies? The widely beloved UP. I’d avoided it up until last night because every grown person I know who has seen it fessed up to crying. Um, I cried during Sandra Bullock’s acceptance speech last night. I know my limits.
Buuuut, when someone uses an Unforgivable Curse on you, you’re helpless. THAT’S RIGHT: Donnie used my own wand (an eleven inch holly with phoenix feather, if you must know) to perform the Imperius Curse on me so I’d watch the movie.
I wasn’t too nervous, though, because most people told me things like, “oh, it’s only bad in the first ten minutes,” or “oh, it’s really sweet so you’re not too sad.”
I know I’m prone to exaggerate. I’m a writer. It’s what I do. But I shit you not when I say that my face was wet the entire movie. I could barely even manage a laugh at the cute bits because I was still trying to heal from the soulrape that just wouldn’t quit.
You know what’s the panacea for having your heart stomped on and set on fire by a kid’s movie? Going to Disneyland. And wouldn’t you know it, but we’re headed there in T minus two weeks. BOOYAH. Take that, Disney! I’m gonna heal from my Disney-inflicted wounds with some Disneyland magic!
Wait…circular logic. Error, error. BZZZZZZZZZT.
Tune du Jour: West Coast by Coconut Records