Thanks for lunch and the enema!
Buffy ,'Sleeper'
Buffista Movies 4: Straight to Video
A place to talk about movies--old and new, good and bad, high art and high cheese. It's the place to place your kittens on the award winners, gossip about upcoming fims and discuss DVD releases and extras. Spoiler policy: White font all plot-related discussion until a movie's been in wide release two weeks, and keep the major HSQ in white font until two weeks after the video/DVD release.
"Check the probate. My Uncle Thumper had a problem with his probate, and he had to take these big pills and drink a lot of water."
"Not PROSTATE, you idiot--probate!"
I like the relationships. I mean, each character has his own story. The puppy is a bit too much, but you have to over look things like that in these kinds of paintings. The way he's *holding* her... it's almost... filthy. I mean, he's about to kiss her and she's pulling away. The way the leg's sort of smashed up against her... Phew... Look how he's painted the blouse sort of translucent. You can just make out her breasts underneath and it's sort of touching him about here. It's really... pretty torrid, don't you think? Then of course you have the onlookers peeking at them from behind the doorway like they're all shocked. They wish. Yeah, I must admit, when I see a painting like this, I get emotionally... erect.
And cancel Christmas!
"Now I have a machine gun. Ho-ho-ho."
t adores Kristin
Walk? In L.A.?
Harris: Well, I was thinking of taking you on a cultural tour of L.A.
Sara: That's the first ten minutes, then what? >Harris: All right, a cynic. First stop is six blocks from here.
Sara: Why don't we walk?
Harris: Walk? A walk in L.A.?
DANA! I swear I was about to post this.
t adores Dana back
Allan: That's quite a lovely Jackson Pollack, isn't it?
Museum Girl: Yes, it is.
Allan: What does it say to you?
Museum Girl: It restates the negativeness of the universe. The hideous lonely emptiness of existence. Nothingness. The predicament of Man forced to live in a barren, Godless eternity like a tiny flame flickering in an immense void with nothing but waste, horror and degradation, forming a useless bleak straitjacket in a black absurd cosmos.
Allan: What are you doing Saturday night?
Museum Girl: Committing suicide.
Allan: What about Friday night?
Welcome to downtown Coolsville! Population: us.
Well, sometimes I get the menstrual cramps *real* hard.