rotkeeeeeeeedvd

Yeah. that took like eight years.

We watched the whole extended edition, and we had drinks.
And every time Legolas said something absolutely ridiculous, in his ethereal Captain Obvious voice, we would take a drink.



I needed six pee breaks.

Me, the Human Camel.

Six pee breaks.


And I'm hoarse from shrieking. But most of the stuff I was shrieking about, I already knew was in there. We were, like, begging the EE to have REMOVED the ridiculous parts that were in the theatrical version. "Just leave him on the pyre. LEAVE HIM. DON'T GET UP, DENETHOR. Don't do it!! Don't make it worse than it is! !!! AAAAA -- crap."
"Come on, no tomato. Cut the tomato. Cut the-- Crap."
"Eeee Oh GOD cut the spider please no no no--- EEEEEAAUUGGHHH!!!"
"Oh no, please, please, enough with the--- oh geez, don't cry. Oh stop crying you big baby!"
"Oh come on, oh come on, don't jump on the bed, don't--- Crap."
And occasionally there were bits I was hoping for that didn't get in. "Come on, rooster! Come on, rooster! Crow, rooster, crow!... Eh, well, ok."
"Brigands drinking in the reek! Brigands dreeking in the rink! Er, whoops." And then it was there, later, that line, and I was so excited. (Me, I gots a whole chapter of an É/L fic based off the fact that brigands drinking in the reek while the brats roll on the floor among the dogs sounds like a party to me. It's on Henneth-Annun in my betas. I been workin' on it. Doesn't that sound like a party to you? Dude, where's your sense of fun?)

Yeah, I was totally obnoxious. Corey gets points for being such a good sport, like with me explaining "Um, that dream Eowyn had, that was Numenor. That's Faramir's dream." "Oh, really?" He's only read the books like once and the, well, posthumously-published "bonus materials" not at all, so I got to say things like "That was Theoden's line. 'A lesser son of greater sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers.' He says it to Saruman and then is like fuck you, buddy." "Oh, yeah, that would've been cooler." And I got to explain the Eagles, and the Estel thing, and explain that Elrond was Aragorn's foster-father because somebody shot Arathorn in the EYE. Ouch.

But he's seen way more of the commentaries than I, so he could console me. "That was a Fran line," he'd say. "Phillippa had nothing to do with that." "Ok, I feel better then."

We then had the stamina (and the need to sober up) enough to put on some of the commentaries. We wanted the actors to admit that the jumping-on-the-bed scene was lame and stupid. And they almost did, and then Sean Astin started talking and we started shrieking at him to shut up and I don't really know what happened for the rest of the movie. Oh my god, that man opens his mouth and the stupidest things come out. At least Captain Obvious Legolas wasn't Orlando Bloom's fault.


But, in the end, the RotK EE DVD has taught me several important things.

1) If you put cherry brandy into Coke, it tastes just like Cherry Coke, only better. That shit's fucking good, yo.

2) Lime vodka is also good mixed with Coke.

3) Bernard Hill agrees with me that the Army of the Dead looks like Ti-D-Bowl.

4) Karl Urban can scream like a woman. Who knew? Look for some more Eomer angst-fic on the horizon, if people even do such an untrendy thing as write LotR fanfic anymore. (I'm a little out of things.) Ooo... So sexy.

5) Plain vodka with lime juice? Also good in Coke. (We didn't have much by way of mixers. But we had vodka. Dude, Fris had a rebate! We had to get the 1.75 liter size!)

Um, that's all we have time for today, kiddies.

Oh wait, no, a disclaimer:

I did love the movie. I loved it. It was great. It was just great enough that I wanted it to be better, that's all. It was so close to being so good and then things happened that disagreed with my cherished visions, and so I shrieked. It's ok, I know, it couldn't have been better, really. And my cherished visions doubtless would have conflicted with those of others.

But just think about it for a minute.

'Even if your war on me was just-- as it was not, for were you ten times as wise you would have no right to rule me and mine for your own profit as you desired-- even then, what will you say of your torches in the Westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Háma's body before the gates of the Hornburg after he was dead. When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. So much for the House of Eorl. A lesser son of great sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers.'

'Gibbets and crows!' he hissed, and they shuddered at the hideous change. 'Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the dogs? Too long have they escaped the gibbet themselves! But the noose comes, slow in the drawing, tight and hard in the end. Hang if you will!'

hot hot chocolate

Ow. Too hot. Oh well.

I must leave for work in twenty minutes, and I am in pyjamas... Me = don't want to go to work. I always feel this way on Tuesday mornings. Tuesday does have a feel, Seinfeld: Dread.
But, I'm about to go in there and ask them for more hours. Oh yes.

I have tomorrow and the day after off, and that's no good. I'll love it, sure: I plan on doing chapter 4 of the Vikings Novel, and perhaps a few other odds and ends. I also may do the laundry I so sorely need to do. But I will also not be making any money on those days. So...
Local Bar hired me for Thursdays, and I told that to Airport Bar, and then Local Bar has had me work one Thursday. Hmm... I think I'm going to tell them not to bother. They can call ahead of time if they want to put me on their schedule for Thursday, and if I'm not working at the airport where I hate it but make money, then I'll work for them. But I have to put money first. I can't sit around for a full day every week because Fred at Local Bar might want Thursday off.
Much as I'd love to sit around for a full day every week.

Man... when I was unemployed, I could treat writing like a full-time job. I could take it seriously. Even on my slow days I wrote at least six hours. And I just got so much done. It was so... tiring but invigorating. That's something I don't mind doing six, twelve, eighteen hours a day. And you know, the Viking Novel, done on a time budget, isn't that bad. I reread it yesterday (almost the whole thing), and it's really truly, not that bad. Dammit, I'm way better at that than bartending slash waitressing. I'm a shitty waitress, you know?

Only one thing for it. Edit and publish a novel, if I mean it. Otherwise, it's waitressing for me, until I can't do it anymore and have to go back to temping.

And there's still this little part of my brain that wants to go to grad school. I laugh at it, most days, but it's still there. Long-term goals, people. Publish a novel first and then see what happens.

In the meantime, I apologize to everyone who's actually been reading this, because apparently it's become really boring. Sorry!