Sunday, February 06, 2011

My Holiday

Good God I hate romance movies.

Now, being that I'm extremely important and sought-after and busy treading the line between 'amusingly self-deprecating' and 'self-loathing and destructive to a level that's almost pathological', it's not often that I get a spare moment to sit down and watch TV. When I do, I'm usually clever enough to spend it on cinematic genius, like 16 And Pregnant, or Chelsea Lately, or one of those spin-off shows the E! Channel seems to keep giving to all Hugh Hefner's ex-girlfriends.
Not last night.
Because last night, I found not just one but one hundred and twenty seven spare moments to watch TV. And I wasted them...on this:

I know what you're thinking, but no - not even the presence of Jack Black could save this movie. Not even the presence of Kate Winslet could save this movie. And God knows I love me some Kate Winslet; mostly because of the whole British accent thing, but also because she seems like the kind of person I could head-butt and then still be friends with afterwards. Which I think is a rarity, in Hollywood. Regardless, this movie sucked. Dick. Only not very well. Read that again and it'll make more sense, I promise. Seriously though? I don't wanna spoil the ending for anyone...but what the hell with the ending?? Huh? Where's the resolution? So they get to spend New Years Eve together - so what? I don't mean to offend the writers. All I'm saying is that if you're a script writer and you helped write the ending of The Holiday, you might wanna pull your head out of your ass and have a serious think about what you just did. And then if possible, please head-butt Kate Winslet and get back to me - I really gotta know if that works!

Is this just me? Am I the only heathen slash twin-sister of the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz, so jaded and cynical and worn out from what life keeps throwing at me that I really think of love as a fairytale and sometimes find myself entertaining the idea that I really might be happy/content to live alone or with fifteen (Oh my God, if I got fifteen I could name them after the principal cast of Grease) cats??
Well, I didn't think so. Until THIS little conversation, which took place during The Holiday and with my sister, who I'd kind of always hoped was just as cynical as me:

Dude: Blah blah blah.
Chick: Blah blah blah.
Dude: Blah.
Chick: Blaaaah.
(they kiss)
Catherine: Awww
Me: I hope they move into that digusting cottage together and contract something incurable.

Now...I'm not so sure.

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