The jealous sound, it is, when I see people capable of making real films.
The Host. Love the Japanese and their fascination for silence, mysticism and government hegemony. The little sewage monster in all of us is going to engulf all of it unless that poor girl is sacrificed to it's hungry jaws, only to be regurgiated at will.
If only I could live in the world that Grandma's Boy takes place in. I would be so happy...and immensely high. Monkeys with red belts, grown men calling their parents their room-mates, blood on the dance-floor. My friend A noticed how any real game designer would have the code for his video game i.e. it does not exist merely on one disk. Leaving such fallacies aside, I tore my disk laughing at the villain, a callous rogue of Matrixian proportions. The good guy is better than Adamn Sandler, that unfunny sack of odd-curls.
This is one for the high pile. Love poker. Wish I would play the players and not the hand. The hand merely holds the bird as the ones in the bush mock me with cunning silence.
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