I have had reached the conclusion...

...that the people at my local video store are idiots.

Charlie Wilson's War a comedy?

I think not.

That aside I wish to add that besides the beginning and a few bits of profanity, it's not a bad movie.

I dubb thee a waste of my time.

*Hmpf*

I'm going to begin this review by acknowledging that I am indeed a hard person to please when it comes to movies. My idea of a good movie entails good clean humour, a significant amount of content (but not too much that I get a headache), low violence, a lack of bad language, and just the right kind and amount of suspense.

I did say I was a hard person to please, and yes, there are actually movies that fit into the above categories.

So. You're probably wondering why I am going on about movies. Well, this weekend I rented a few and 2 out of 3 have been absolutely bull poopy.

Broken Flowers. I just finished watching this so called "comedy" and am now wondering who I write to in order to get back the last 102 long and painful minutes of my life. I know, I know! I should've ejected that DVD and stuffed it back where it belongs; inside its case, hopefully never to see the light of day again. However, I lived in hope that it would get better.

It didn't. Hence my disgust.

The movie begins with a morose man (Don) who appears to do nothing with his time but sit on a leather couch in his 70's style abode donned with a black tracksuit.
This is the only expression we see for the entire 102 minute duration.



Don receives a pink envelope in the mail with red writing on the front. It does not have a return address and the letter inside is typed and unsigned. So he has no idea who it is from. The letter in question informs Don that he has a 19 year-old son who apparently has gone on a mysterious trip. The mother is now informing him of the child's existence because she thinks he may be in search of his father. So he may show up on his door step.

Don's paranoid neighbour, Winston, who I did not like for the sole fact that he reminded me of my father (he's highly paranoid), convinces him to go and find the woman. Don writes a list of 5 women, Winston looks them up on the Internet and plans his journey, Don goes.

The rest of the movie is as follows -
Don drives and flys around staring at certain women's legs and visiting 4 of the 5 women (1 died, although he visits her grave). He does not say why he is there. They all answer the door and look at him like "Who are you and what do you want?" and then ask, "Can I help you?" He responds with his usual expression...


...and says nothing until they go, "Don?"
What a loser.

While he is in the company with these women he looks for anything pink - because, you know, if you send someone a letter using a certain coloured envelope it means that your house is just full of that colour.
The first lady has a pink bathrobe.
The second lady has pink business cards.
The third lady has pink pants.
The fourth lady has a pink type writer and pink bike. Then her motorbike friend punches him the face (something I would've liked to do).

So he returns home and finds another letter in a pink envelope from his girlfriend who left him at the start. Now his neighbour says he is going to match up the handwriting to see if she wrote the first letter.
Don stays at the coffee shop and recognises a kid from the airport hanging around outside. He offers to buy him a sandwich and then after a short while blurts out "I know you think I'm your father but..." and the kid goes ape and runs off.
The end.
???
I feel jiffed. So, did the ex-girlfriend write the other pink letter? Was the kid his son? Does he even have a son? It was a total waste of time and I do not know why the DVD case has a little white triangle sticker on the top left-hand corner with red writing on it claiming it is a -COMEDY.
It's not.

Ok. Second movie. Meet Joe Black.

I am not like other females. I do not like Brad Pitt. Frankly, I find his face annoying. When I look at him I do not see a handsom man. I see an arrogant, self-righteous morons with died blonde hair. He annoys me. I don't even think his acting is all that great.
Never the less I rented the movie. I had heard good things about it and I was running out of time and needed 1 more movie in order to have a 2 dollar saving. C'mon, you all know I am a cheap bastard.

So. This one, like the other, has an odd classification. This one is an apparent drama. I beg to differ, though. For the first 3 quarters of the movie I did nothing but chuckle. I would've classed it as a comedy. Maybe the guy with the sticker gun got things mixed up? I dunno.

Anyway. The movie started off ok. But towards the end I was highly irked with the chick in the film. She did nothing but squint! I think it's something they are taught in acting school because a lot of people seem to do it.
Serious expression = squint.
Contemplation = squint.
Saddness = squint.
Angry = squint.
Mental anquish = squint.
Tired = squint.
But this chick took it one step further. Even when she was happy she squinted! I never knew we were all meant to respond like that to almost every situation. Next time a customer orders a coffee I will squint at them. In fact, from now on I will squint in response to every situation life throws my way.

(I have no idea why the photos are so far down the page. You'll have to use the scroll button.)


















Maybe she needs glasses?

So that was issue number one with Meet Joe Black. Issue number 2 was the ending. It was total rubbish. A cop out.
Joe and the old guy walk over the bridge because it is time for him to "go". The girl sees them running off, squints, and goes after them. A moment later Joe comes walking over the bridge. They talk, and Joe is not Joe anymore. Now... Joe is death, right? So how is it that he stole the guys body by getting him run over in the beginning, yet manages to return the guys life to his body in the end? Death does not bring life. It's just doesn't work that way! Am I the only one who sees the contradiction here???

Next thing is she isn't in the slightest bit confused as to why Joe's entire personality has changed.
"Joe" on the other hand isn't freaking out: "What the hell, man? How did I get here? Last I remember I was being smashed into the bitumen by a car. WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!" One would think that would be the appropriate response. Instead, however, he is rather cool and all "Heeeeey, I didn't think I'd ever see you again." Because, you know, that's the important thing to say. Focus on the woman. Not the fact that you're somewhere you weren't 2 seconds ago. Day is now night and you're wearing a suit that isn't yours with some chick squinting at you.

Now you sort of get the impression that the girl understands that the Joe that's there now is not the same Joe that was not there before, but is now the Joe that she met in the beginnin...err... You know what I mean (I hope). She seems to get that he was inhabited by death and her dad is now gone for good.
So... being a DOCTOR and a supposed LOVING DAUGHTER, one would assume that she would be unselfishly concerned about her father, causing her to leave "Joe" behind and run off to find her father's lifeless body.
But no. Instead she is all happy and squinty because she has man.
My dad's dead? Oh well. That doesn't matter. I have a man! Now there's a girl with her priorities right!

So clearly I thought the ending to that movie was dodgy, too.

I told you I am hard to please.

Are you an annoying customer?

I've been feeling pretty pissy the last couple of days. I've had a good run, though. Usually every day that involves my having to deal with the public by any means leaves me irked in epic proportions. However, the last few months I've had been ok. Tired out, but not mad as hell.

But the last 2 days I've wanted to jump the counter and start smacking people with their food trays. I could make a large list of the things that have been ticking me off. But I'm just going to cut it down to 3 things.

Whinge 1: The T lady - This is a lady who works for a business up the road that begins with the letter 'T'. She's a cranky, self entitled, impatient, rude, demanding witch. If there are several people in the store waiting to be served, she will walk up and stand by the counter and expect we automatically push her to the front of the line. I used to place her bread order down in the bread rack with her order book on top for her to sign. However, this proved to be a wrong move. She decided then that because she had her bread already and didn't feel like waiting to tell us her order for the next day, she then had the right to come IN to our store BEHIND the counter and mess around IN OUR WAY whilst we attempted to carry hot drinks in a very confined space dodging 3 people (now made 4 due to her unwanted presence) to find OUR order book so she could write down her order and leave. Does this mean that we would be welcome in her store behind her counter without permission? I guess so. Maybe we should all mob down there one day and just walk in and see what she says.

So we decided we no longer would leave her bread or the order book where she could find it. Last Saturday she comes in and once again we were busy. Instead of waiting she rudely cuts everyone off and yells "HAVE YOU SOLD MY BREAD?!?!?!"

She's not doing herself any favours acting like that. We're just going to make things LESS convenient for her.

Whinge 2: Customers who don't listen. They are ordering from you and yet when you ask them questions they do not tell you the answer you want. This happens so often. You know they are not organised so you try to do it for them. They order one coffee and you can tell that they want more than one so you ask, "Are there going to be any more coffee's?". They respond "Yes, just a minute."
So you wait.
Then after waiting for a minute or so, they order a pie. I DID NOT ASK YOU IF YOU WERE ORDERING ANYTHING ELSE. I ASKED IF YOU WANTED ANY MORE COFFEES!!!!
So you say, "So, that's only one coffee then?" They look at you, blink (clearly not much going on up top) and say, "No. We want a cappuccino, too."
Hmm... Me thinks that's what me asked in the first place.

Or if they are at the sandwich bar and are ordering several sandwiches. You try to organise them so you can make them all at once. You ask them if they want butter them, they say yes and then proceed to tell you everything that's going to be on each sandwich. You stop them and explain that it's easier to make them all at once, and you will ask them as you go along. Next question, would they like any mayo or mustard? They say yes and then once again tell you all the fillings for each sandwich. It's not straight forward, either. They'll say it in the most confusing way possible.

Whinge 3: People who order a massive list of things and then whilst you're still preparing it ask "How much is that?"
Sure, if it were maybe 5 things we could add it up in our heads. But come on, we're talking 2 trays of goods here! Your order is up in the realms of 30 bucks plus! We're using our brains to remember what you want and how you want it because you're so damn picky and change your mind so often (usually the moment you get it on the plate - don't act like you're sorry for the inconvenience, you're not. If you were you would just suck it up and eat the damn danish you ordered in the first place).

Alright, that'll do me.
I'm over people right now. >:o(

Ok, so it's been a while...

Ahoy there, mehartys! It's been a tad while since I've updated and the main reason for that abomination is the simple fact that - I don't have a lot to say/whinge about.
Not that I couldn't find something or anything, but Chikory is becoming slack in her old age. Yes, I still find customers annoying, I still see the negative long before I even begin to ponder the fact that there could be a positive in existence and I still have the ability to create a 10,000 word SA on the most asinine (I love that word) of subjects. Proof of the latter is that I'm doing it right now.

That being said I will get to the reason I popped by this cold winter morning. I have a shocking piece of information to share. So shocking that I don't know why E! Hasn't reported it first. I don't know why it isn't on the front page of every magazine at the supermarket checkout. Why aren't the likes of Today Tonight and A Current Affair using their "top-of-the-range" reporters to create 20 minute segments informing the public of this need-to-know life-altering astounding news?

Ok, I won't hold you in suspense any longer. I went to Dreamworld on Wednesday and naturally, made a bee-line for the Wiggles World. Upon entry Captain Feathersword appeared to greet me and my fellow posse member, Kim. I think Captain Feathersword is the greatest, but I was devastated to realise that Captain Feathersword has a PROBLEM! I have for you now photographic evidence.


He looks reasonably healthy don't you think? Ok, so that expression gives the impression that maybe he's suffering from some form of mental turmoil. Or someone could just be standing on his foot... Whatever the reason, he needs a hug.

But now feast your eyes on this recent photograph of our very happy pirate...

Folks, I am sorry to inform you that our dear friend Captain Feathersword has an eating disorder! Notice how he no longer fills out his black pirate pants and white frilly shirt? See his dejected stance as he walks away, feeling malnourished with a lack of energy, as if the world just isn't a happy place for pirates anymore? My heart goes out to Mr. Feathersword. I only hope he receives the help he needs.

So what can we do to help him? Send him letters, telling him how much we appreciate him in all his pirateness. Let's support our favourite pirate. Let him know he's not alone! Mr. Feathersword needs our help, people! Don't fail him now!

*I apologise for the crapocity of this post. But my head hasn't been working very well this week.

All is nothing. Therefore nothing must end.

Who the heck comes up with the ratings for movies? Because I seriously think they have some mental deficiencies - and yes I am aware of how ironic it is for me to make that call with all things considered.

These days I have watched PG movies that would've been rated M15+ back when I were a wee lass. I have seen movies that were rated "low level language" only to hear expletives bursting forth from the speakers every 2 minutes. I have rented movies that were classed as not very violent, only to discover people getting pummeled left right and centre. But this one takes the cake!

My Left Foot is the story of Christy Brown, an Irish poet/writer/painter who suffered from an extremely bad case of cerebral palsy. It's an interesting story that seems to make you want to laugh, cry and start beating on people for being completely and utterly disrespectful and down right cruel. All in all it was an excellent movie. Well written, well acted, and very deserving of its Oscar. I was saddened to find, however, that his life didn't turn out all that great. In the end they make out like he found love and lived happily ever after. Only a bit of research using my favourite intermanet tool, Google, told me that he was married for 9 years, taken away from his family, and possibly physically abused by his wife of whom was an alcoholic and a prostitute. His family also indicated that they believe she was responsible for his death in 1981 at the age of 49. It's sad when people who can't defend themselves and are very well meaning and full of heart are taken advantage of.

Anyway, back to what I was saying. The only problem I found with the movie was the rating. "Frequent coarse language". I didn't notice this in the store otherwise I probably wouldn't have picked it up. But I am glad that wasn't the case, because I would've missed out on a really great film and all because the people who rate movies are completely deranged.

During the course of this film of which lasted about 2 hours, I counted the use of the 'F word' a total of 8 times. Ass was said once but seriously, who's going to care about that? Now how do they figure that is frequent? I've heard more frequent bad language in a retirement village.

Long time no see.

Ohmog it's been a while. I'm dusting myself off and coming down from the back corner of that high up shelf...

I've been meaning to post something for my massive audience of one to read for quite some time but haven't been feeling all that articulate of late. Actually I still don't feel very literate, but I'm bored and the contents of my SpongeBob Squarepants glass is thought-inspiring to say the least.

So what have I been up to over the last few months? Well. I got a full time job in administration, something I've wanted to do for quite some time. I quit the bakery and paid off my car. Then my boss went nuts, I got sick (again) and I quit my job. Now I'm once again a depressed sole, sitting around plotting all kinds of evilness on the Internet whilst trying to nip this damn brain-disease in the bud, cope with life and work out how to get a job I can cope with because I hate not having one!

Mind you, I could cope with the job I had quite ok. It was the boss I was having a hard time with. It's tough when you're working under a person who changes moods from one second to the next. One moment she's approachable, the next you're getting told off for doing your job and (heaven forbid) actually asking her to do hers! I know, shame on me. She'd tell you to do something, you'd do it exactly how she asked and then she'd tell you that you did it all wrong. If one wanted that kind of insanity in a work environment, they'd hastily apply for a position in the Woolworths chain.
This experience really drummed in something I learnt a long time ago... Women should not be in charge in the work place. It only results in a new-age Nazi regime.

I have saved for my group of one, one of the more humourous examples of my employer's idiocy. The head honchos went to this seminar to improve their business. As with most things, they were all gun hoe (I'm never sure if that's gung hoe or gun hoe, so correct me if I'm wrong as I can not be stuffed Googling it) about it at first, but it soon died off.
One of the things that they were advised to do was make a folder full of instructions for each person's tasks in the office. Basically if one person was away another person would be able to complete their tasks with ease should the situation call for it.

This makes sense.

So I went about doing up a whole bunch of these instruction sheets. Some of them were stupid, things that even a monkey could work out how to do, but I wrote them out anyway. I handed her my stack of paper and she soon handed it back with pencil marks all over. I could tell this was just one of her more bitchy days and her bitchyness was seeping out in the form of "I'm going to be incredibly picky and try and bring you down via your confidence in your ability to do even the most menial of tasks". (That was long winded I know, but remember I said I wasn't feeling very articulate. So bite me!)
So I look through them and start to make the stupid changes, when I reach this one... For laminating purchase codes. The task in itself is self explanatory.

But what was her complaint about the instructions? I'd scan it for you, but I haven't installed my scanner software yet, so all you get is a list.
Step 1: I explain where to find the purchase codes to be printed/edited.
Step 2: Inform them they must print the codes on coloured paper, and that the paper must be a colour that is visible against the boxes - so not grey, white or black.
Step 3: I explain that they must cut the codes out, arrange on the laminating pocket and then when the laminator is heated feed them through the slot sealed side first.
Step 4: When they are laminated cut the codes out again and punch a hole in the top right corner.
Step 5: Deposit in the purchase code box and explain where the box is.

So what did she have to complain about? Next to step 3 were the words "Turn laminator on - How?"

Oh bugger... Silly me was assuming the person who was to be taking over these tasks had at least half a brain and didn't drool constantly whilst staring motionless at a blank wall.

The laminator was a small blue machine with a yellow dial. Around the dial were numbers and a picture of a thermometer... obviously that would be the dial to set the temperature. Next to that was another yellow button with "On" next to it. How do you think you'd turn it on??? Would you require a step by step instruction manual for a situation like this? Don't be hasty to answer, now. Take your time and really really think it through...
So to humour her I curbed my urge to be sarcastic and added in the necessary changes. It was hard but I did it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Personally I'm not all that keen on the frangipani craze that has attacked cars world wide. I could take them or leave them... On other people's cars that is. The funniest frangipani story I have to tell is one I sighted driving in bumper to bumper traffic in Brisbane. There was this really butch bloke, you know the type; fat, thick dark sunglasses, a muscle shirt, tattoos and a beared. Pretty much a biker without all the leather. Anyway, he's putting along side of my car, and his lane starts to move a bit faster, so pretty soon he's in the lead. What do I see all over the back of his car window? Frangipanis... L.M.A.O.R! Okay, maybe you had to be there to find the humour. But it looked so ironic I had to chuckle.

Anyway... What I was intending on ranting about follows:
People who put "say no to frangipani" stickers on their cars... You're idiots! Do you not realise you are A) Aiding the cause by advertising for them and B) Putting a frangipani on your car... Just because there is a line through it, doesn't change the fact that it's a FRANGIPANI!
I don't know who is worse. The people with the flower on their car, or the try-hard rebels attempting to make stand. It makes as much sense as going to war in a desperate bid to end wars.

Okay. I'm going to Google the sounds foxes make...

...

I AM GOING TO TAKE OVER THE INTERMANET!!!*


*Well... Not really. I'm just bored. That and it sounded cool so I said it. Peace out, ya'll.