mimi smartypants
Seriously, though: what's with the penguins?

it was assaulted. peanut.

Well hello everyone. Shall we attend the cinema?

Yes, I did, dear reader. I did indeed watch a movie where Daniel Radcliffe plays a farting corpse that Paul Dano rides across the ocean like a jet-ski, propelled by the power of Radcliffe’s post-mortem flatulence. This is also a movie where Dano and Radcliffe make out underwater while Dano is dressed like Mary Elizabeth Winstead, a movie where Radcliffe pukes up buckets of water that Dano eagerly swigs, and a movie where Radcliffe stares at a musty Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue and then grows a stiff and mighty erection, which Dano then uses as a compass to point the way back to civilization.

That’s a paragraph from this movie review, and I believe that it is not a joke, except in the sense that this film is probably a joke of sorts, and our ridiculous and improbable existence on this lovely planet is a joke, etc etc. The phrase “mechanical boner rig” also makes an appearance in this review. I want nothing whatsoever to do with this film, although I wouldn’t say no to putting more mechanical boner rigs on things. I can think of a few public statues that would greatly benefit, for instance.

Two more movie-related things: First, I saw the Star War and really liked it, despite the fact that I am so unbelievably unschooled in all things Star Wars that I really thought the X-Wings were the Bad Guy ships. Honestly, doesn’t that sound more like an evil spaceship? Whereas “TIE Fighter” sounds like a fancy cocktail (and thus on the side of good). And OH! While I was typing this I decided to Google “tie fighter” and found out that it actually is “TIE fighter” and is an acronym and everything makes so much more sense now. I ran into the kitchen to share my knowledge with LT, and he was like, “Wow.” It was a “wow” of how dumb your wife can be. But then again he knows literally nothing about Pushkin or proofreading symbols or 20th-century jump-rope rhymes so we all have our areas of specialization, man.

I completely fell in love with the little spherical droid, as the filmmakers intended, but its cuteness detracted from the movie because I worried about it constantly. The protagonists spend a lot of time running away from or toward things, often over somewhat difficult terrain, BB-8 trailing behind, and they never once look back to make sure it’s keeping up with them. I know the little motherfucker is fast but show some consideration! (Side note: do you think pilot guy made BB-8’s trim orange so as to coordinate with his flight suit? I do. He seems like a stylish sort.)

Last, I swear there is a very brief scene in this new Star Wars where I saw a droid from the olden days. I did not know its name and it hardly matters, but it looked sort of like a black hard-sided suitcase on feet, and of course my great overlord Google (pbui)* has brought me the answer. I remember playing with my older cousins’ Star War toys and at the beginning of the play session when we’d “divide up the guys” I would always use my first pick on this “guy,” and they would be thrilled because I clearly had no concept of Star-Wars-guy value. (I did, it’s just that our economic benchmarks were not the same.)

*(“it” substituted for “him,” because Google has no gender)

Dovetailing nicely with the themes of value, price, and movies,* I am lately obsessed with The Jinx, to the point of paying $2.99 to Amazon for each episode (thank goodness there are only 6—and I’m only halfway through so SHHHHH). That may not seem like a big deal but like all humans I am enormously contradictory as to when I spend and when I scrimp ($2.99 for media I truly enjoy? HMMMM MAYBE) and when I spend (expensive Korean skincare? Bar tabs? NO PROBLEM). The interviews are my favorite, because I can’t stop staring at Robert Durst’s creepy black shark eyes. Is it possible he’s wearing anime-doll contact lenses or something? I cannot imagine why but wow, it’s weird as hell.

*If I ever fail to say so explicitly, but you are wondering if this entry was written under the aegis of a No-Delete Diary mandate: my excessive glee in having all the pieces hang somewhat together, as above, is a huge clue. I only care about that when the clock is ticking and the tea is cooling and the order of the day is WITIWYG,DI (What I Type Is What You Get, Damn It).

—mimi smartypants needs fresh blood.