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Yesterday, I spent time with the Roomie, and while we were out, he pointed out a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant called Little Italy. Oh, wow. It's run by an Italian woman and her husband, and the food there blows chain Italian out of the water. Twenty-five bucks stuffed us both like ticks, and my only regret is that I didn't have more room in my stomach for the salad and spaghetti.
After that, it was on to Best Buy where I bought Snakes on a Plane, Lady in the Water, U2's 18 Singles, and Billy Idol's Greatest Hits. Then on to Borders, where I got two Gregory Maguire novels, Lost and Mirror, Mirror. The only one I don't have now is Son of a Witch. Lastly, I bought Chains of the Fallen by Steven Erikson. For those unfamiliar with Erikson, he writes epic fantasy about the Malazan Empire. His books are doorstops, but they're crack, and I adore them.
Today, I went to the mall with the intention of going to the movies, but I ended up buying The Cave, Room 6, and A Pup Named Scooby Doo. Room 6 is probably crap, but it has Jerry O'Connell in it, so there's mancandy if things get tedious.
The Cave was stupid fun, and Cole Hauser was pretty. It wasn't fabulous, but it was better than I expected because I went into it with the understanding that I wasn't watching a Cannes Film Festival nominee. It was a horror film, and in horror films, there is a lot of screaming and running and bloody dying. I got what I paid for, which was a lot of screaming, running, and dying. My only quibble was the ending, which was designed for the mindfuck factor and made little sense. I was obviously supposed to come away with a serious case of the heebies, but my only feeling was one of disinterested befuddlement.
On the fandom front, I sense a wank a-brewin' in CSI:NY fen over a purportedly sexually-charged moment between Danny Messer and Det. Angell(God, what a stupid name). The D/Lers are stoking the fap fires with the hysterical hope that this doesn't spell the end of their OTP, the anti-D/Lers are gleefully praying that this torpedoes the torturous, sulphur-match fart of a pairing, and the rest of us are wishing the writers would stop trying to shoehorn romance into a procedural. Yes, these people are adults who do and should have lives outside of the job. I just don't want to see it. That's what fic and fandom is for.
There is some whining that if Danny hooks up with Angell while Lindsay is gone, it will paint him as a manwhore. Newsflash: Danny is a manwhore; he has admitted as such. Setting that truth aside, I don't see how Danny choosing to date Angell makes him a manwhore. Lindsay blew him off in immature fashion. Twice. She shot him down with lame, middle-school excuses, and he doesn't owe her squat. In fact, he has handled this mess with unprecedented grace. If he moves on and Lindsay doesn't like it, too damn bad. She had her chances and blew them, and I don't remember them professing celibacy before she skulked back to Montana.
Danny has done some fantastically stupid, shitty things over the course of the show, but this isn't one of them.
After that, it was on to Best Buy where I bought Snakes on a Plane, Lady in the Water, U2's 18 Singles, and Billy Idol's Greatest Hits. Then on to Borders, where I got two Gregory Maguire novels, Lost and Mirror, Mirror. The only one I don't have now is Son of a Witch. Lastly, I bought Chains of the Fallen by Steven Erikson. For those unfamiliar with Erikson, he writes epic fantasy about the Malazan Empire. His books are doorstops, but they're crack, and I adore them.
Today, I went to the mall with the intention of going to the movies, but I ended up buying The Cave, Room 6, and A Pup Named Scooby Doo. Room 6 is probably crap, but it has Jerry O'Connell in it, so there's mancandy if things get tedious.
The Cave was stupid fun, and Cole Hauser was pretty. It wasn't fabulous, but it was better than I expected because I went into it with the understanding that I wasn't watching a Cannes Film Festival nominee. It was a horror film, and in horror films, there is a lot of screaming and running and bloody dying. I got what I paid for, which was a lot of screaming, running, and dying. My only quibble was the ending, which was designed for the mindfuck factor and made little sense. I was obviously supposed to come away with a serious case of the heebies, but my only feeling was one of disinterested befuddlement.
On the fandom front, I sense a wank a-brewin' in CSI:NY fen over a purportedly sexually-charged moment between Danny Messer and Det. Angell(God, what a stupid name). The D/Lers are stoking the fap fires with the hysterical hope that this doesn't spell the end of their OTP, the anti-D/Lers are gleefully praying that this torpedoes the torturous, sulphur-match fart of a pairing, and the rest of us are wishing the writers would stop trying to shoehorn romance into a procedural. Yes, these people are adults who do and should have lives outside of the job. I just don't want to see it. That's what fic and fandom is for.
There is some whining that if Danny hooks up with Angell while Lindsay is gone, it will paint him as a manwhore. Newsflash: Danny is a manwhore; he has admitted as such. Setting that truth aside, I don't see how Danny choosing to date Angell makes him a manwhore. Lindsay blew him off in immature fashion. Twice. She shot him down with lame, middle-school excuses, and he doesn't owe her squat. In fact, he has handled this mess with unprecedented grace. If he moves on and Lindsay doesn't like it, too damn bad. She had her chances and blew them, and I don't remember them professing celibacy before she skulked back to Montana.
Danny has done some fantastically stupid, shitty things over the course of the show, but this isn't one of them.