04 March 2008
The Stranger Fork
At the house, in the utensils bucket, there hides a stranger fork. The case has about 36 pieces of identical spoons, forks and teaspoons for daily use, with the knives in a separate case, and among those 36 kitchenware lurks the fork. What's weird and crazy about that piece of steel is that i always pick it up. Always. ALWAYS. All. Ways. Know how you breathe air unless you're a corpse or a zombie or Bob Marley? That's it. Always. Could be my fault, because I and my siblings have been provided another separate glass with four sets of utensils for our exclusive use and I seldom oblige. Because I don't have enough time to be hungry and play Columbus with my spoon. So maybe that Stranger Fork is trying to tell me that I should do what I'm told especially when it comes to things to put in my mouth? At first, like three years ago at first, I get surprised each time, even amused; yet today, more than convincing, it's become extremely annoying. Then Steve Carell tells us in Dan In Real Life: "Plan to be surprised." Fine, but expect me to keep frowning.
NOT about the film and funnyman Steve. While it has a few minutes of near-dullness because of minimal tracks (Halfway through I thought I heard a snake hiss a few steps away in the left aisle, or maybe that's just because there were only 10 of us watching.), the film is still worth second, third, sixth viewings if only for its tug at emotions concerning sibling revelry, second teenage and human irony. But when there was a track, the scenes got even lovelier. I just hope teenagers and everybody else doesn't think much on "Love is not a feeling. It's an ability." because, well, it's just too tedious. And of course, Steve's antics--soo glad Jim Carrey's away. I'd love to see Carell "dance" like that while "blabbering" the way he killed me with laughter in Bruce Almighty. We can all watch it with President Arroyo for good times. I missed Emily Blunt. And Juliette Binoche made me want to check up on Julia Roberts who is currently owning New York.
Then I moved to a screening of My Big Love. All I know is that Sam Milby seemed more comfortable under all those prosthetics. Made me reminisce on my younger years when I was torn momentarily between choco and vanilla. Much as I'd wanted to conjure my inner
patriot and find points to appreciate in the movie, I was stopped by too much make-up. Way too much. If movies are moving pictures, then My Big Love is a series of moving print ads. But since I was blinking at a widescreen, it was a series of moving billboards. Get a new long-haired Barbie doll, take out its head, then place it on a week-old emptied bottle of Redhorse. That's how almost everybody in the film looked. I even thought it was a film on lesbianism since everybody looked so... made up, especially when the prosthetic-less Sam was on-scene. But that's just me and my oily face. For that they should've changed its title to "My Big Powder". Or "My Big Foundation". Or "My Big Blow-Dried Hair". Cute music theme, though. Oh and let me know when rumors of Kristine Hermosa finally retiring start spreading. Some applause might be in order.
NOT about the film and funnyman Steve. While it has a few minutes of near-dullness because of minimal tracks (Halfway through I thought I heard a snake hiss a few steps away in the left aisle, or maybe that's just because there were only 10 of us watching.), the film is still worth second, third, sixth viewings if only for its tug at emotions concerning sibling revelry, second teenage and human irony. But when there was a track, the scenes got even lovelier. I just hope teenagers and everybody else doesn't think much on "Love is not a feeling. It's an ability." because, well, it's just too tedious. And of course, Steve's antics--soo glad Jim Carrey's away. I'd love to see Carell "dance" like that while "blabbering" the way he killed me with laughter in Bruce Almighty. We can all watch it with President Arroyo for good times. I missed Emily Blunt. And Juliette Binoche made me want to check up on Julia Roberts who is currently owning New York.
Then I moved to a screening of My Big Love. All I know is that Sam Milby seemed more comfortable under all those prosthetics. Made me reminisce on my younger years when I was torn momentarily between choco and vanilla. Much as I'd wanted to conjure my inner
patriot and find points to appreciate in the movie, I was stopped by too much make-up. Way too much. If movies are moving pictures, then My Big Love is a series of moving print ads. But since I was blinking at a widescreen, it was a series of moving billboards. Get a new long-haired Barbie doll, take out its head, then place it on a week-old emptied bottle of Redhorse. That's how almost everybody in the film looked. I even thought it was a film on lesbianism since everybody looked so... made up, especially when the prosthetic-less Sam was on-scene. But that's just me and my oily face. For that they should've changed its title to "My Big Powder". Or "My Big Foundation". Or "My Big Blow-Dried Hair". Cute music theme, though. Oh and let me know when rumors of Kristine Hermosa finally retiring start spreading. Some applause might be in order.
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