10 Reasons to go and see Moonwalker

In honour of what would have been Michael Jackson's 51st birthday, Village Cinema's are exclusively screening Moonwalker.

When Haylee and I found this out, off we went to the Jam Factory to buy our tickets. It was a hoot. What made it more special was that Mel had come along, and not having seen the film before, we were proud to be there with her for her first 'Moonwalker' experience.

If you have never seen it, or haven't seen it in a while, here are but 10 reasons why you should buy your ticket.

1. The film begins with a half hour montage of Michael Jackson and Jackson 5 hits for no particular reason at all except to make you try and find new and exciting ways to dance in your seat without embarrasing yourself.

2. The 'Badder' short film: If you haven't seen it, I won't spoil it for you, but I will say that when Mel saw it, giggles ensued.

3. Michael Jackson running away from claymation stalkers.

4 Michael Jackson turning into claymation Rabbit and then turns back into himself only to have a dance off with the claymation Rabbit...who's called Spike.

5. Michael Jackson dodging bullets and running away from dogs. If that isn't enough action for ya, tell me what is.

6. Baby Sean Lennon starring as one of the 3 children who accompany Michael on his Moonwalker adventure. What relation the kids are to Michael is never explained in the film, nor why they wander the streets at all hours of the night following Michael around to clubs and concerts with no supervision except for the occasional companionship of a dog.

7. Joe Pesci. In heels. Nuff said.

8. Smooth Criminal in all its wonderful glory.



9. Michael Jackson morphing into a car, then a robot then a spaceship, only to return and sing us a song.





10. Michael Jackson's delivery of the line "Do it and you're dead." Amazing.

The film is only screening until Wednesday, so get in there quick. Seeing it on DVD is just not the same.

"Boys Suck"...well tell me something I don't know

There must be something in the water, because women all around me are on an anti- male rage.

Meh, what else is new. I've been on that boat for a long time, which is probably the biggest contributing factor as to why I'm single.

Call me crazy, but I just haven't found the urge to pretty myself up, dress to the nines and throw myself at fine specimens such as these...




Granted, not all men look like that, and not all men suck, but please take note of the operative word here. MEN!!


For most women out there, and that's me included, the epitome of the ideal man goes a little something like this:



Or if you're a more of a modern day woman, a little something like this:



Oh Mr. Darcy. Be still my beating heart. The man every woman wants, and every man wants to wallop.

Before Zac Efron, and before Edward Cullen, was The Darcy phenomenon. The love of the character surpassed the love of the actor, and poor Mr. Colin Firth could never reclaim his identity as a truly wonderful actor. No matter what part he took after the BBC mini series, nothing ever came close to the euphoria which was experienced over watching Mr. Darcy on your telly. The closest Firth came to regaining the same success was with the release of Bridget Jones' Diary, where he rehashed the exact same character, but wore much more comfortable clothing. I dare anyone to wear a reindeer sweater in such a way that presents women with the quandary of whether rip it off, or do the deed with the sweater on because he just looks so goddamn sexy in it. (Or maybe that's just me....)

Yes, Mr. Darcy. Wonderful, strong, handsome, Mr. Darcy.

The man who despite his best interests fell in love with Elizabeth Bennett.
The man who fell in love with Bridget "just as she is."
The man who came to Elizabeth Bennett's rescue and saved her family from ruins.
The man who flew halfway across the world to free Bridgett from a Thai prison.
The man who said the unforgettable words: "In vain I have struggled, but it will not do, you must allow be to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
And the man who answered "oh yes they fucking do", when Bridgett proclaimed that nice boys "don't kiss like that."

Oh yes, Mr. Darcy. Wonderful, smart, rich, handsome, kind, caring, romantic, perfect Mr. Darcy.

Well of course he's perfect. He was created by these.





WOMEN!

Jane Austen created one of the most romantic and charming men since Shakespeare's Romeo. Helen Fielding followed suit and 'creatively' gave us a more updated version.

My point to all this?

Ladies, the perfect man does not exist. Why? Because it's impossible, not virtually impossible or practically impossible, but IMPOSSIBLE for a man to be near perfect let alone perfection. There's no such thing. Have another read of Pride and Prejudice and Bridget Jones' Dairy, even the two Darcy's have their flaws. But because we have become so besotted in the ideals and romance, there is a tendency to block out the bad and concentrate of the good.

The tendency also transfers to real life situations. I myself will admit to falling for it. We become so engrossed in the fantasy of finding Mr. Right that we start to put any Joe Blow on a pedestal when really, he has no place there at all.

Please don't misunderstand me. Just because there is no perfect man doesn't mean that functional relationships don't exist. I myself know many people who are in one. Good for them. That's great. But that's not what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about your average, and I mean REALLY average guy that many girls seem to loose their nut over. To explain what I'm talking about, the scenario goes a little something like this:

Girl meets Guy. Both seem to dig each other, and flirting ensues. Girl gives Guy number. Girl is ecstatic, raves about guy, guy doesn't call, and the girl is shattered.

or...

Girl meets Guy. Flirt. Exchange numbers. Call. Date. Guy doesn't call again.

OR...

Girl meets Guy. Flirt. Exchange numbers. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Calls. Meet in public -- guy treats girl like stranger.

OR MY PERSONAL FAVOURITE

Girl meets Guy. Flirts. Sparks. Calls calls calls...but clearly one is using the other. Guess who.

*sigh* Pretty tough to catch a break. Can you blame a girl for being so down trodden and upset?

Sisters, I understand.

"*sniff* No you don't," you sob. "I'm tearing my hair out over this, and you've got a full head of hair. Don't tell me you understand. *sniff*"

Sisters...WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!

Seriously, I'm all for love, romance, kisses and cuddles. I giggle with delight at them. But emotionally investing in someone who's clearly a dick just isn't right. He's not Mr. Darcy, and if he makes you feel like shit, he's not your Mr. Right. You can't change him, you can't make him do anything else, and you certainly can't get back the time you wasted on him.

No Deal.

Yes sweethearts, boys suck, and men can be idiots, but what else is new?

Why on earth would you place all your aspirations for happiness into one person?

Why do you place so many expectations onto a complete stranger?

Why don't you place those same expectations on yourself?

And if you spend any more time on the guy who wastes your time, you're going to miss out on the one who is actually worth your time.

The 90s scream NO!!!

This has to stop.






Now far be it from me to start being a fashionista. I don't have the greatest taste in clothes, as I'm more of a practical woman that buys things she needs rather than what she wants because it's all pretty and shiny. But this has gone on for far too long....



and I truly believe it has to be stopped.

There was a time I used to wear leggings, once. It was called the 90s and it looked a little something like this:



That's the reality of the situation.

Leggings make you look like a...hmmmm..how can I say this...a dip shit.

Take this for instance:




I don't see any reason to wear this unless I woke up one morning to find that I had a super power and an extreme sense of justice.

And if this isn't enough to make you see the ridiculousness of the situation...



I don't know what is.

"But surely what we see on the cat walk can not possibly walk through the actual streets in broad day light" I hear you think.

Dear reader, I regret to inform you that it has. People of all ages, races, and genders, are opting to don their leggings from outside the gym and into everyday life. My sister, bless her dear little cotton socks, is one of these culprits. I cringe every time she walks out the door in a gorgeous top and these disgusting grey leggings. And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I was riding the tram into the city to be confronted with a man wearing black leggings, which were low in the crotch, paired with a blue soldiers blazer. And this wasn't a young boy who's just finished high school and is expressing his new found university freedom and individuality, this was a grown MAN.

IN HIS THIRTIES!!!


ALSO CARRYING A SATCHEL!!!!!

Like I said, far be it from me to judge what it is a person chooses to wear for the day, but I'll leave you with this:

You go out looking like a clown, people are going to laugh.

Pointing the finger at myself...

Usually, I'm very quick to judge the stupid shit that people do. I ridicule and mock them for the choices they have made in their lives as well as the way in which they conduct themselves.

Stupid is as stupid does so it would seem.

Today it's time to point the finger at me.

These past couple of weeks, I have been severely stupid. Not intentionally mind you, but with the way some things have turned out, I might as well be.

As it is, times have been tight where the finances are concerned. I've been struggling to keep up with my bills, and necessities, basically living from welfare cheque to welfare cheque. (I've been looking for a job, but as it is, they're pretty hard to come by). I've been plodding along nicely as it would seem until I realize stupid thing number 1.

I joined a gym.

A couple of years back, my best- friend and I thought it would be grand to bite the bullet and take our health and fitness into our own hands. We joined a gym. We went everyday for 6 months. I looked fantastic.

I have not been to this gym for 1 and a half years. Now, I have a 80 a quarter is taken from my savings. I'm giving money to a gym I do not even use. To discontinue my membership, it will cost $280 for the cancellation fee. I'm so fucking stupid.

Stupid thing number two happened two days ago. I managed to get two parking tickets on the same day, in different parking spots.

I've left the payment of another parking ticket too late, and when I went to pay that, also realized I've neglected to pay my phone bill...I'm not opening it, because I'm too afraid to look at what the figure will be. I'm so fucking stupid.

Today, I went and bought a Pilate's DVD...when I have a gym membership I am paying for an don't even use.

I'm also going out for a dinner with my best friend...when I should be saving up for my car to be serviced or fixed.

The car needs new tyers, brake pads, and all sorts of new gear...

Yesterday I bought $34 dollars worth of make up. It was one item that makes your skin glow. My best friend works for the make up company that I bought it from. I bought it so that she could earn commission.

At the end of all that, there's only one thing left to say...

The shit that people do...

If I'm known for anything it's not my intellectual prowess or fantastic sense of humor, it's my ability to find absolute crap on the internet and share it with you all whether you like it or not.

This little gem, however, I must to attribute to a dear friend of mine, who sent me this in a private message. Darling, I'm sorry, but I have to share this with everyone I know.

Here, my lovelies, in honour to those who are just getting into the series, and also to those whom are eagarly awaiting the upcoming flick 'New Moon', is a tribute to the shit that extremely obsessed people do.





TATTOOS!!!! What better way to show your devotion to a series that you love oh so much. That's right ladies and the odd enthusiastic gents, if you haven't already thought about it, why not permantly brand your love and devotion to the Twilight saga by getting a Twilight inspired tattoo. Here are some ideas and designs for you to consider.



This is a favourite amongst most girls. Its fulfills its purpose as catching the eyes of many, and detering any future male attention FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. Not that you would mind. You belong to Edward Cullen after all. Forever.



Some would say this is a bit too much. Others may say it's not enough. I say, it says it all.



Just when you thought it couldn't go any further with just the odd 'Edward and Bella' reference, here comes the Cullen Crest!!!!!! The Cullen's Forever!!! Cause Lord knows no one else will have a bar of you.



The 'stupid lamb' in this tattoo holds a double meaning.



And in case you meet someone who hasn't read the books yet, have a copy conveniently on you...literally.

For more Twilght tattoos you can have a look here.

Wha???

Tell me exactly where it was along track that we have forgotten the meaning of the word FICTION.

If you haven't yet heard of this news, let me break it down for you.

You may have already seen the posters, or even perhaps the trailer, for the upcoming horror movie titled 'Orphan'. The tagline of it reads 'there's something wrong with Esther'.

Looks alright, entertaining, something I wouldn't mind seeing on tightarse Tuesday. It's a bit of 'The Omen' mixed in with 'The Good Son' (which was a wicked WICKED film, I must see it again soon). All in all, it looks like an ok story.

Opertaive word here is STORY!!

As is seen from the Perez post above, adoption groups have rallied together in a protest against the film.

The Canadian Press has reported that critics of the film claim that an anti- adoption message is relayed to the audience. The adoption groups are not only calling for a boycott of the film, but are determined to meet with the CEO of Warner Bros himself, Barry Meyer, to discuss their concerns.

In response, Warner Bros has expressed intention of placing a pro- adoption message with the films DVD release. I wonder if it will go along the following lines:

"This movie may contain images of adopted children doing wrong. This is intended to fall along with the genre of horror. Warner Bros have produced this work of FICTION to make money. We have no actual interest in orphans what so ever. If you want to adopt one, that's your business. All we care about is the $30.00 fee you've paid to buy this DVD. Thank you for your business."

That there is the REALITY of the situation.

The REALITY is that Warner Bros appreciates the attention. This for them is free publicity, and now a movie which may have seemed mundane is now intriguing. What's more alluring than a film that a group of people don't want you to see?

The REALITY is that we KNOW that orphans are in fact children and not demon beings, and as such they deserve all the love, care and attention that all children deserve.

The REALITY is that Orphan is not the first movie of its kind.

Who can remember the 1990 hit 'Problem Child'? The story of a young orphan boy adopted by a childless couple, and what seems to be a match made in heaven turns to all sorts of bad, because the young boy is actually a little shit, and all mayhem ensues.

Nobody seemed to believe that the message of this film was 'don't adopt.' On the contrary, everybody seemed to like this film. In fact, the audience liked this film so much that the studio decided to go ahead and make the sequel, aptly titled 'Problem Child 2', where the there was not only one, but TWO little monster children wreaking havoc on society.

It must be said, I understand the advocacy groups concern. However, I think that this is all blown a tad out of proportion. At the end of the day, the movie is what it is, A MOVIE. It is FICTION. Nobody out there actually believes that orphans are damaged goods, or possesed by the devil, or cursed.

And if there is a film to be blamed for all the hoopla, then I present you with the culprit.

My Time with Brother John

On this wonderfully grey, overcast, windy day my sister and I set out to meet my dad for lunch. He would like to take us out on account of it having been my birthday. Usually, this is a pretty standard event. Having been a stickler for order all his life dad likes nothing more than going to the same restraurant on Lygon St. and ordering the steak, with tiramisu for dessert and tia maria to go with it.

Recently though, dad's been going for some major changes. Call it midlife crisis, or putting some spice in your life, dad is looking to try something new. Usually it's a bit hit and miss...like Brother John's.

We begin our cullinary journey in Sassafras, home of Miss Marple's Tea Room, Tea Leaf and The Sassafras Oracle. Lovely day out...if the sun is out to join you. Needless to say, if it's cold and grey in your neighbourhood, it's colder in the mountains.

Brother John's sits on top of a hill. As you drive towards it, signs with blairing red font scream at you: SOUP WE HAVE SOUP!!! SCONES WE HAVE SCONES!!! CARPARK WE HAVE A CARPARK!!!

How delightful.

Upon finding the

ENTRANCE WE HAVE AN ENTRANCE sign, you head towards the door and are faced with a small white chapel, ready to be booked, by you. How do I know this? Well, I saw the sign.

Before I could read on about bookings for weddings, an lovely ederly gentleman greets us. Looking rather frail and barely able to walk he shows to our table...outside. Yes, it seems that everyone is to be seated outside for lunch today. Don't worry, we were shielded from the wind and cold by plastic sheets.

I was more worried for the gentleman who was showing us to our table, I felt as if he should be sitting down and I should be bringing him the cup of tea. Despite his frail appearance, he was extremely happy-go-lucky, striking up conversation and giving me a random cuddle as I sat down. Whilst embracing me, he went on to show me the special board and what was what in the menu. I wasn't quite sure what to make of that, or the menu.

Brother John's prides itself on its soups and scones. Everything else...hmmm. The Parma was below average, the salad was made the day before, and there was this thing in a little bowl that came with it. I don't know what it was, and I don't know why I was given it. Upon first glance it looks like a smashed up boiled egg. Putting it to the nose it does not smell of egg. Poking it, it wobbles. Feeling brave, I place a little on my fork and pop it in my mouth. There's cream, coconut, peach and pineapple. I've never had anything like it before. Dad looked at it and ate it. He doesn't like wasting money you see. The words that came out of his mouth were 'Peach Melba.' Good people of Melbourne, please let me know: what is a Peach Melba and is it supposed to look like that? What was stranger than recieving what ever that was on my plate was the background music playing at Brother John's. There is no real triumph in eating your chicken parma to the tune of the Paso Doble.

Dessert was just as gross, and really it was enough to put you in a foul mood. Until I turned around and saw a giant Andre Rieu poster staring me in the face. Next to that a giant homemade banner: "Andre Rieu brings JOY TO THE WORLD".

I have seen and heard enough.

Promptly after discovering this banner I took a photo of it and sent it to Haylee, Dave and Mel. Haylee sent a message back which rang very true:

"Only YOU would end up in a place like that."

Indeed.

More often than not I do seem to find myself in places and situations that look like they've been torn from the pages of an American sitcom. Why this happens I do not know. I'm a big believer in everything happening for a reason though, and if there is one reason I can find within this strange and bizarre experience it is to tell you, don't go to Brother John's--unless it is a practical joke.