A Purple Sparkly Gift

I can't believe I haven't blogged about this until now, but I recently watched the entire first season of Underbelly.  Judging by the reactions of people I've already announced this to, I am probably the last person in Australia to jump on board with this show.  With the exception of my Mum, who refuses to watch anything on TV except Grey's Anatomy and Relocation: Down Under.
For me, the best part about Underbelly is the cast - an amusing mix of Australian soap opera alumni.  Say what you like about shows like Neighbours and Heartbreak High, they produce some quality actors!  Of course, the other side of the coin is that it's a little hard to be 100% intimidated by infamous drug dealer Tony Mokbel when you usually know him as Doctor Sid from Home and Away.  But I did my best to ignore that.

Speaking of TV, I'm watching this movie right now called The Crazies.  It's, well, interesting.  Apparently it's actually a remake - the original was made in the 1970's or something.  What?  Who knew they even had horror movies like this in the 70's?  No, The Exorcist doesn't count.  Even my Mum - who can't get through Jaws without almost wetting her pants - doesn't think The Exorcist counts as a scary movie.  Saw? She wet herself.
Amityville Horror? Wet herself.
The Ring? Wet herself. 
But Exorcist?  No problem.
I've adapted this into a Horror Film Rating System: if Mum hasn't peed on the couch yet, it's not that scary.

Anyway, The Crazies.  Basically it's about some small town in the middle of nowhere (aren't they always?) that's overcome by a virus which turns everyone into a robot serial killer.  It makes them crazy.  They become The Crazies.  Good to see inventive film titles are as important as ever in Hollywood.  But being that I am probably one traumatic life experience away from becoming a robot serial killer myself, I actually enjoyed the movie.  It's kind of a cross between 28 Days Later and The Signal, with a little Resident Evil thrown in.  Perhaps 28 Evil Signals would have been a more appropriate title.
I should get a job in entertainment.

So I'm at my parents house today.  I just dropped by to pick up some shoes and ended up being sucked into The Crazies.  And then I decided to blog a little.  I guess that's the general appeal of this place for me now: shitty movies and an internet connection.  It doesn't hurt that Mum insists on baking a lemon cake every time I come over, either.  Anyway, remember when I blogged about Mum's plan to use my old bedroom as the new Guest Room?  Well, that happened.  The first thing Dad said when I walked through the front door was 'Don't go upstairs!'.  Of course I immediately did - half out of curiosity and half because at heart I'm still 12 years old and think it's hilarious to do the exact opposite of what my parents tell me.  Wow.  I kind of wish I listened to Dad:

Right now I'm past being 'offended that they only waited 3 weeks to destroy what I spent 11 years building', and halfway into the 'amused at the idea of Mum clearing all my old stuff out, because to be honest there's no telling what she might have found' phase.  I'm not even 100% on what I'd left behind in there.
Alright, that's a lie.
About a week and a half after we moved in, I remembered one thing I hadn't bothered to bring with me; the thought of the expression on my Mother's face should she happen to find it was simulaneously terrifying slash the most hilarious thing ever.  I'll say no more about the item - this whole scenario (especially since I'm now almost completely certain she did find it) is so fucking funny I'm going to save it for my book.  But just in the interest of leaving you hanging, I'll tell you it was purple, sparkly, and a gift from someone whose name I no longer remember.