Recently, Hollywood seems VERY hell-bent on ruining every single thing I like. For example… Sherlock Holmes. or Cowboy Bebop.

Hollywood has managed to ruin Speed Racer, made Sherlock into a semi-Latin hobo, and Keanu Reeves is now doing Spike. I don’t even want to think about who’s doing Faye.

Hollywood should REALLY leave non-American culture alone and go back to creating Batman. If they start making Trigun: Live Action, I am REALLY going to get pissed off. Hollywood has already ruined a few of my crushes (read: Legolas) by miscasting them horribly. If they continue this rampage of miscasting, somebody’s going to get hurt.

Every Christmas, I make a promise with our little Julien Sorel to see each other right before Christmas. And every year, it falls through. Well, not every year, obviously, but this is the second year in the row and I have decided to see how long this will last.

It’s stalemate, baby.

Considering that he was on a debate team, his lies are pretty thin. I’m not exactly writing a book on the art of deceiving, but “I have a doctor’s appointment on the 23rd and my mum wants me to do family stuff” is pretty thin as a lie. As a debater this is rather embarrassing. After all, as IM had put once, “debate trains you to pull any evidence out of your ass, lie through your teeth, and sell fridges to eskimos”. For an amazing debater IC can’t really lie to save his life.

Hearing my complaint, IM decided to hold a bet. For some reason JB, J and IM had decided that he is actually going on a date with a new girlfriend and can’t tell me (well, J’s guess was that his dear mummy didn’t want him outside so near to Christmas). Hence, they are holding the “how long will the kid last in his 5th relationship” tournament. I’m giving 5 months tops. IM is giving 3 months. JB half a year (my guess is that he’s an optimist), J 2 weeks. (And nobody has mentioned the immorality of betting on a person’s relationship… that shall remain ignored, methinks. Heh.)

My guess is that this is rather reflective of our own prospects on relationships. I won’t be surprised if J’s relationships average two weeks. I’m a pessimist. IM often gets bored easily. JB… well, he’s an optimist, I think.

The prize is 20 questions. All answered truthfully. I’m not even sure what the true cause of this sudden (and yet unsurprising) cancellation is, so I don’t even know how this bet is staged, but hey, 20 questions, all answered honestly, isn’t going to hurt anyone. I think.

As for my parents, they are impressed that IC bothered to inform me the day before. Quoth my father, “wow, he grew up”.

Well, let’s see who wins. In the meantime, I’m going to say that I am going to win, since I know him the best… and I REALLY don’t want to lose. God knows what they’ll ask.

Hollywood REALLY needs to come up with new storylines. First they made Dragonball Z into a movie. That flopped. I mean, I’m the first generation Dragonball Z kid, who watched it on time in Japan, and when I saw the trailer I rolled around on the sofa laughing for about three minutes.

Well, what does Hollywood pick up next? COWBOY BEBOP. Now, if it was animated or completely CG I wouldn’t mind. I love Spike and Faye, and I really hoped those two would get together.

But no. It’s live action. Not only is that just plain awful, it’s KEANU REEVES playing Spike.

Now, let us compare the two. Spike is a 27 year old, 6’1, 170lb guy who is a former mobster. He (thinks he) was betrayed by his love, Julia, and lives as a bounty hunter with his mate, Jet. His character is somewhat lazy and laid back, with very awkward and sarcastic emotional display.

Keanu Reeves is NOT twenty-seven. He is almost twice that age! This is an insult to Spike Spiegel.

On the other hand, Trigun is becoming a movie as well. This one is animated. And hopefully the same voice actor. So that one should be better.

Trigun movie will be released in Japan on April 24th, 2010.

Il ya quelques jours, j’ai cuis un gratin avec salsa de Bèchamel et endives. Je ne savais pas que la cuisson de la sauce ètait si difficile. Premier, vous faites fondre le beurre et faire sauter la farine dans le beurre. Vous n’avez que jusqu’à ce que l’odeur farineuse est allé. Cela prend une éternité. Alors vous refroidissez, alors ajoutez du lait. Ensuite, vous mélangez-fou afin de ne pas forfaitaire.

J’ai cuis salsa de Mornay, donc j’ai ajouté provolone. Pour endive je l’ai enveloppé pas dans jambon forêt noir, mais le prosciutto di Parma. Donc c’est devenu italien et non belge…

During my read of Tolkien’s Unfinished Tales I came across the sentence “and their chief weapon was terror”. I misread it and read “and their chief was a terror”. This made me laugh hysterically for a few minutes.

The mall is always a terror this time of the year. There are people, people, more people, and did I mention people?, lunatics, morons, and weirdos who flock to the center trying to find the best bargain on some crap that they will never need in their life. I mean, who the hell needs 30 bags of jelly belly’s? My guess is that you will get sick before you get through bag 1. But oh no. I saw some moron buying 30 bags, then trying to fit them into one oversized bag. Some people seriously need to re-study geometry. If the cross-section of a certain figure times 30 is larger than the cross-section of another, then it won’t fit. End of discussion.

On the other hand, oysters are cheap this time of the year, which means raw oysters are no longer expensive delicacies but rather common commodities on the table. I’m very pleased with this. I’m also pleased with the amount of extravagance one is allowed to indulge in when the purchasing ability is significantly higher than the rest of the world. It’s nice to have constant bargains, and it’s also nice to be able to buy things without waiting for three months. Saving up for 3 months to buy the Dior eyeshadow was pure misery.

My hair color is back to raven, which is a good news, because apparently, according to IM, my hair accounts for half my value. Which means if I shave my head, then I am only worth half what I worth now. I wasn’t quite certain whether I was supposed to be pleased with this news or not. J affirmed that I should be pleased, and that it means I have amazingly beautiful hair, but then again J’s weight on beauty is outrageous and he always had a screwed-up outlook on everything, fully qualifying him as a moron. JB said no, but he did like my hair raven and it would be a pity if it turned ruddy. IC did not care. I’m not sure what to think of.

My friend Rachael and I had another fully blown-out discussion on Twlight Series a few days ago. I still not get the charm of that series. It is pure, fluffy abstinence porn and I don’t get the value of it. I have never seen a story so unrealistic, and I don’t mean the vampires part (in the terms of that kind of realism, I’ve read far worse).

What Rachael and I agreed was that in 25 high school lives or so that Edward must have carried out, he would have met at least… 100 girls. At least. Considering that my high school had at least 150 girls per year, I’d say it’s closer to 1000. And out of those, he could not find a girl smarter than Bella, or more beautiful than Bella, or nicer than Bella, or more athletic than Bella. I just simply don’t understand. Is Edward a self-deprecating masochist? Surely not, he’s an overconfident A-hole who strikes me as more than slightly chauvinistic. I mean sure, it’s a holy bingo for Bella to land a certain prototype of Prince Charming, but why Bella? I’d like to believe that this entire farce is truly a farce, because otherwise yours truly average girls will land prince charmings leaving me (and other, above-average people) with… what? Leftovers? So not happening.

What’s even more, Stephanie Myers is Rachael’s school’s alumni. And they were both English majors. And Rachael is ashamed of having such an alum. True, I’m ashamed of certain alumni at my former school as well, but then again I didn’t expect much from the alumni anyway.

I don’t get it. What’s the charm? I read fantasy because well, it’s not real, but then there is no factor that makes it realistic. Raistlin Majere from Solace is purely fictional, and will remain purely fictional; if there was a white-haired, golden-skinned hourglass-pupilled freak walking on the street I’d bolt. Solace doesn’t exist. Magic as Raistlin knows does not exist in my world. Nuitari is just a name. Same goes with Middle-Earth. I’d love to think that Maedhros exists in all his fiery-maned glory, wielding a sword forged by his father fresh out of Valinor as one of the princes of the House of Finwë, but unfortunately the only place I get to meet him is The Silmarillion and the History of Middle-Earth. (There is a fanfiction in which apparently Glorfindel threw up on his boots and that was rather amusing, but then again, still purely fiction. Elrond is not having an illicit affair with Erestor.) Q’arlynd will remain on Abeir-Toril (actually, I’d prefer it that way, I don’t want some religious fanatic of Tyr chasing after me, nor do I want to go to the Fugue Plane for being faithless). Actually, if any of those fantasies were real I’d be shut in my bedroom all day with Reno and I’d never come out.

Edward is half-realistic. Sure, vampies don’t exist, but it’s set in a realistic world, which makes it half-believable.

I kind of envy that, however. If Reno was slightly more realistic I’d never even look at any member of my opposite gender. I’d officially claim Reno as my spouse and be done with it. That'd be easy. No muss, no fuss.

I don’t get the charm of the story. I also asked IC if he watched it. He stared at me as if I was a moron and replied, “no”.

But then again, not everyone is endowed with a Julien Sorel at her disposal.

JB made himself sick eating an entire box of brandy beans then rang me up to consult on the remedy of an immediate hangover induced by consuming an enormous amount of brandy beans. I replied that despite my education, I actually have no idea how to remedy a hangover induced by pseudo-liquor filled cacao-based confections. He hang up, sounding sick.

To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what to think of this. JB was my last beacon of coherence and intellect, but considering that he wasn’t wise enough to foresee some sickness coming by eating an entire box of brandy beans, I’m quite sure that “beacon” had been successfully snuffed out and wrecked. So now I need to find a new one, otherwise my tenuous hold on the belief that world might not be good but at least filled with semi-intelligent people might be lost.

I also would like to know where he got them. I rarely see them anymore. Perhaps I should make an inquiry, that is, after taking a nap.

Today I went shopping with IC. Which was fun. It was rather fun throwing a pseudo-mini-temper tantrum asking him to buy a perfume that was about the size of a baby’s hand, and cost less than twenty dollars. I’m guessing he thought I was going to ask for something ridiculous, at least $50 or so.

I bought him Lacoste Essential deodorant. Apparently in his head using cologne = gay, and he seems VERY afraid of his manhood being questioned. Don’t ask me why… I know plenty of guys who wear cologne and manage to have little black books that is thicker than the bible (I personally think if you start wearing foundation, you are in danger of your manhood being questioned. But apart from the Prescriptives counter guy, who does that?).

We went to C.O. Bigelow as well, did some buying, stopped at Godiva and picked up the free chocolates of the month… all was fine until we went onto State Street.

See, I brought IC along because whenever I’m going home from Michigan Avenue I always have weird sleazebags asking if they can buy coffee for me. I’m more than welcome with coffees from really cute, tall guys, but coffee from sleazebags are just awful. And they stick to you like a wet leaf, no matter how hard you try to shake them off. And yes they stick, or they try to. So I guessed that walking with a male might do the trick. Which did. Until then.

I was walking past Aldo talking with him, Sephora bag in hand, when a woman came up to him. Well, me. Well, us.

“Hi, we’re from Planned Parenthood! Would you like to…”

Now, do keep in mind that I never went out with him. I am not going out with him. He had hair that remotely resembled this guy

and had not shaved. I was in jeans and while I was wearing a pink sweater, I had a black leather jacket. Definitely not a date outfit. I probably have looked better seeing my female friends than that. So my question is, why IS IT that we got mistaken as a couple?! IC’s not even 20! (Okay, the facial hair may have aged him, but still.) He’s still playing with Magic the Gathering! I’m more interested in YSL perfume than guys! Hello?! Hello?! Is anybody listening?! WHERE’S THE JUSTICE HERE!

We then wondered, upset, if we looked that old. Then I realised… she probably had mistaken us for a very young married couple or something. Okay, no sleaze bags, but I don’t fancy being mistaken as a married either. I started to think maybe I should wear a big card on my neck advertising my celebrated singledom. Marriage?! YUCK. Parenthood?! H*** NO. Marriage and babies are the farthest things on my mind at the moment. How on earth am I supposed to raise an infant if my biggest problem right now where to but the boxes of perfumes when I get more?! So not happening.

So that was my day. But I did make IC buy this

.

Yes, I know, it’s adorable :D

…JC Penney Opticals told me they’d give me a discount if I buy a batch, and they didn’t. Liars.

It occurred to me today, as IC and I were walking down Chicago Avenue, that what IC views as aesthetically pleasing is very far from mine. And apparently, mine is very far from everyone else’s. I find Grace Kelly amazingly beautiful; Eliza Dushku is NOT beautiful for me. I’ve always heard how beauty is in the eye of the beholder and whatnot, but some people the majority agree that (s)he is beautiful, and others… no. How does that work?

I started thinking about the people I found beautiful. C. Marino, from my high school, for instance, was a beautiful girl to me. And B. Beshk (there is a picture with half his face in it – split down the middle – and I immediately identified him as him. He literally looks like a Greco-Roman sculpture). Grace Kelly. Catherine Deneuve when she was young. Greta Garbo.

Americans seem to like a certain type – firm jawline, slightly slanting down eyes that are on a narrow side, short nose that slightly turns upwards, and rather small lips. Europe, on the other hand, is the EXACT opposite; egg-shaped face, slanting upward eyes, longish nose (well, not long, but definitely not short) that is straight and you can’t see the nostrils very well, full lips.

I happen to be the latter. So I clearly am disqualified as a beauty in the United States. So I’m good-looking in Europe, not so over here. What’s the difference?

Then I remembered the “average beauty” theory. According to the theory, a beauty is the “average” face of the population, and I don’t mean total-wise. If the most popular mouth is a thin mouth, then that’s the pretty mouth. If a long nose is the most popular nose, then that’s the nose you’d want.

Which leads to the conclusion that while I fit the majority of the European population’s facial features, I don’t here. I’m the stark opposite. Actually, most of the pure-blooded people tend to be the opposite. J is purely French. He has a longish nose, full lips, and large, slanting upward eyes. JB is fully English. He has longish nose, average mouth, and I never thought about his eyes but they aren’t slanted down. IM is purely Scottish. He has longish nose, reddish hair, VERY full lips and average eyes.

They are considered beautiful faces. J gets MONEY for being beautiful. Each part of their facial features is average.

So I am not average in the United States. I think being pure-blooded does that.