sexta-feira, 31 de julho de 2009

Home Sweet Home

I was gone for less than a week and already it felt like a relief to get back home, to my messy room, in which everything sounds and smells familiar. Thank God we made it home.
I don´t know why it took us so long to realise that, as long as raining cold days go, it doesn´t really matter whether we are down or up the hill. So up the hill we went back. To good food and friendlier faces, I hope.
I wonder if we´ll get another week of "vacations" (when you´re supposed to be stuck at home, not disseminating the virus, it´s not really a vacation, is it?).
I have done almost nothing I was hoping to do, which only adds to the list of things I want to do when school starts (I really should quit making lists).
And now I´m bored and still smelling like the beach I never went to. Funny.
No sand, no salty water, no real sun, not that much sunscreen and still smelling like beach.

One thing it did help was the playlist thing. I burned a CD (yeah, an mp3 CD. For some reason my cdplayer´s batteries are waaay better than the mp3 gadgets´.) with some songs I hadn´t heard for a while. Had forgotten how nice my girlie tracks were.

Get a playlist! Standalone player Get Ringtones

Prom Night´s From Hell

Nice little raining-day reading. Not scary at all, on contrary to what the back cover says.

“The Exterminator´s Daughter” by Meg Cabot
The never disappointing story of yet another cute girl and boy with a weird plot as background. MC is great because she´s never mean: you can enjoy all paragraphs without worrying if she´s going to kill some beloved cute character. [Yeah, I care when people designed to be cute die. Even if it is fictional. Shame on you, L.M.] Anyway, vampires and holly water and amazing brown eyes to go in some 50 pages.

“The Corsage” by Lauren Myracle
The cutest little characters, pretty caricaturized, but lovely nonetheless. She´s brutal, though. And I... didn´t quite follow the reason behind the final paragraphs – I kept on thinking “open the freaking door, for heaven´s sake!”, but maybe that´s got something to do with me watching enough CSIs and this being a 1902 story. The shortest and most wtf? story on the book.

“Madison Avery and the Dim Reaper” by Kim Harrison
It´s weird. It´s sad. It´s a bit Bella-ish. But it´s nice. One of those “No matter what...” stories mixed up with “Don´t get in to strangers´ cars”, you just can´t say what it is about or you´ll think it´s boring and won´t read it. So just read it. It´s 60 pages long – you cannot say you don´t have the time.

“Kiss and Tell” by Michele Jaffe
It was the last one I read because I was so anxious about S.M., but it is the one I liked the most on this book. And curiously enough, the one that most suits the book´s description: paranormal stuff. Though I caught myself thinking why, oh why, isn´t this written in first person?, I liked this Jaffe woman. She doesn´t explain most of the stuff, just suggests it, which makes it unbelievably better. And all the women are amazing – not cute, not nice, amazing. Makes you want to be a little more like Sibby and Kenzi and Miranda. Plus, she writes nicely, here´s a little teaser:
Thinking, not for the first time, that life should come with a trapdoor. Just a little exit hatch you could disappear through when you´d utterly and completely mortified yourself. Or when you had spontaneous zit eruptions.

“Good book?” he asked, taking it from her and reading the subtitle, “A Guide for Good Girls Who (Sometimes) Want to Be Bad,” out loud.

But life did not come with a trapdoor.
“Hell on Earth” Stephenie Meyer
It is surprisingly not very-Twilight-Host alike. It actually has quite a nice view on the whole Good X Bad thing. It´s nice and fun to read. Envolves demons and angels, vicious and good people. Prom, really. Freaky ending, but it´s worth it.

I now realise I can´t really talk about the plot of a 50-page long story, which makes commenting on it kinda pointless, but trust me, it´s nice.

“I´m trying to keep it to one heist a month,” she said, hoping for a light, ha-ha-ha-I´m-just-kidding-foxy-is-as-foxy-does tone.


sexta-feira, 24 de julho de 2009

Doomsday Machine

In Dr Strangelove a weird body fluids obsessed Army man decides to send his men to bomb Russia, knowing that there would be nothing the government could do to stop them. Later they find out Russia is in possession of a Doomsday Machine, a huge, unstoppable, computer accionable bomb that would destroy the Earth and form a toxic cloud on its surface for 98 years. The purpose of a Doomsday Machine was to tell eveyone one of its existence and make everyone fear it. Enforce peace, if I may.
Personally, I think it would be a brilliant solution. But I wouldn't worry too much about it accidentally going off. So what if something takes the whole Planet's life at once? Much better than being around a uranium leakage and slowly die and watch everyone else die of cancer. Much better than watching anyone die, period. It would be quick and easy. Unperceptible. Brilliant.
Unfortunately it seems that I'm the only one who doesn't want to save herself from Doomsday. I just got in my mail an invitation for a ceremony of an odd religion that said those exact words: "Join us and we'll save ourselves from Doomsday". They think they are the chosen ones. If they are is not the case, but chosen to watch the majority of people die while your select people live? While you select the select people who get to live? It's just maddening, don't you think?
I don't know about you, and I certainly don't know about them, but I can't find comfort in knowing that I will survive and Obama won't. That I will keep on breathing while everyone else decomposes or turns to mist. That my blood will be pumped just for the sake of it being pumped.
If doomsday does come, we've earned it. "Goodbye World, sorry for all the misfortunes, but we're just that stupid, better luck next time!"

terça-feira, 21 de julho de 2009

Done and digesting 'The Deathly Hallows'

It had been a long time since I'd last hidden book and flashlight under the covers, so mum wouldn't yell at me. Eventually the batteries did run out and she did have a fit at four-thirty in the morning, but it was still so effing fantastic! I had forgotten how wonderful Hogwarts was like, with it's Great Hall and the magic rooms. I had forgotten how much I liked Mcgonagall and Hagrid and Luna and the Weasley family! I had forgotten how great it was to weep over some character's misfortune (though the sobbings probably served as well as the lamp to revealing my ignoring curfew) or to be so preoccupied when things were going all right for too long.
The ending was mellow and mushy, much too bravery-and-loyalty-Gryffindor to my taste. The naming of the kids made me a little angry at Ginny (she couldn't name any of her children?), and it felt weird reading that they've got families. But good weird, I think. They were still united, they became that big family Harry had missed so much. Keeps things hopeful. And Ron seemed the most believable of them, it would have been fun to read more about his parenting age.
I'll probably be thinking (and crying my heart out again, I suspect) about Snape's story for quite some time, but what I'm curious at is why these series are ending so happily. Are they all trying to give this generation some sort of hope? 'Cause I honestly believe if both of them had died, it would make a far better point. But then again, I like mean books that kill good people for good purposes, though keep on cursing their authors (still doing so for Fred).
Perhaps I'll succumb and buy The Tales of Beedle the Bard at last.

PS: I'm so glad the crying-over-grave-scene will not be done by Radcliffe. Thanks for sparing us, Rowling!

segunda-feira, 20 de julho de 2009


De quando em quando eu abro o jornal (não na Ilustrada, não na Folhateen) e tento absorver alguma coisa para não me chamar de desinformada, e geralmente acabo na Folha Corrida. É legal ver o que a redação da Folha acha importante. Semana passada saiu uma foto enorme, de uma estrutura metálica vermelha sobre um monte de destroços. Achei que era algum outro acidente de construção de metrô. Mas a legenda informava que se tratava de Nova Déli, capital da Índia. Você então pensaria que foi uma grande catástrofe e centenas de pessoas morreram - mas não, cinco pessoas morreram e 14 ficaram feridas, duas em estado grave. Perdoe a minha indiferença, mas como é que aquilo é tão importante para ter uma foto daquele tamanho nas notícias do dia?
Em cima tinha a foto da Paris Hilton, informando sobre o novo programa dela na MTV.

Hoje eu estava assistindo ao Jornal Regional, e eles mostraram aquele morador de rua que foi encontrado pela família depois de uma série de reportagens que ele participou. Passaram trechos das reportagens, incluindo um repórter perguntando "É difícil encontrar trabalho?". Hmm... ó dúvida cruel...

Acho que vou desistir da eptv.

Malditos goblins!

buenas noches

sábado, 18 de julho de 2009


Who on Earth is Mundungus and why is he such a big character in Deathly Hallows? They refer to him back in Order of the Phoenix, but I just can't remember him!

Today I did nothing. Well, nothing productive, to be fair. Woke up extremely late, again, had lunch and stuck to HP and Meg the rest of the day. It had been a while since that happened. Odd.

If anyone has info on Mundungus that doesn't require pages and pages of descriptions, please let me know!


sexta-feira, 17 de julho de 2009

Holidays take all the fun away from Fridays...

Some nights ago I stood wide awake until 1h30 a.m. (eventhough that's about the time I start seeing Erie everywhere) watching Dr Jivago. I didn't rent it because it was a classic. I didn't rent it because it was Russian. I didn't rent it because it was black and white (though it was an encouragement). I rent it because I had remembered "Must Love Dogs" and how the guy absolutely adored that movie. Yeah, yeah - another romantic comedy. You can't fight fate. Or John Cusak.
But the thing is, I remembered how he had these insights about Jivago, and I just couldn't see them. It's Russia. It's freezingly beautiful. All the men are assholes. All the women are strong. The "sacrifice" scene when he watches her leave - which was supposed to be a key moment for the story - just reminds me of a worsen Casablanca. Yey, so the asshole has a heart and is selfless enough to let her go somewhere safe, with two children and a rapist. How enlightening.

I was going through some channels just now and I couldn't help watching PS I Love You one more time. And this time I paid attention to someone else besides the Irish guys: Denise. I had forgotten how great she was. For those who don't remember her, she's the friend that likes men (plural) and asks the three essencial questions before she tries kissing, the one with the "After all of that, I have to right to look at a man's fine butt with shallow sexual intentions" or something like that, the one who gets married in the end. She's such a Will & Grace Karen, isn't she?

Speaking of which, aren't they just lovely? If there's one thing I love about those nice half-an-hour comedies like Will & Grace, The Nanny and Friends is that they don't take thigns personally. Remember when Will got out of the Christmas gathering with Karen and Jack to go see The Nutt-Cracker with Grace, and then that didn't work out so he came back and asked to join them again? Karen and Jack were upset, but they had Will recite some dirty song and they were fine again. No harm, just gags.
Or when Chandler started dating Joey's ex and they fought? And Joey made Chandler get in to a box to think of what he had done? No harm either. Friendship prevailed.
Stuff like that makes it all look so simple, doesn't it?

Back to reading HP 7.
It's actually quite cute.
George is cute :]

Goodnight to you all

quinta-feira, 16 de julho de 2009

Falando mais

Olhos vermelhos e amarelados, pupilas dilatadas... eu adoro meu visual drogada pós-consulta de oftalmo.
Mas enquanto a fotofobia persistir, vamos tentar alguns dos objetivos sugeridos, sim?
Falar mais nesse blog. yahooo.

Tá. Eu fiz um Twitter. E talvez tenha alguma utilidade. Mas ainda não consigo usar a tal coisinha direito. Ô trocinho confuso, chê.

Harry Potter
EEEEEE! Fui na estréia. Graças à dona Brasil, thank you so much, dear. Depois de uma hora e quarenta de fila, mais uma corridinha para a sala - finalmente -, o sexto filminho do Potter.
Sinceramente, minha época Harry Potter já passou faz um bom tempo. Já passei dias escondida em lobby de hotel de praia lendo e chorando com os malditos dos livros. Já fui às seis estréias. Já xinguei todos os filmes. Já tentei ir de cosplay. Agora acabou. Acabou mais ou menos na época que o Príncipe Mestiço chegou do Submarino e eu me dei conta que todos aqueles parágrafos e parágrafos de descrições não eram lá tão maravilhosos quanto costumavam ser. Li mais por tradição que por vontade - esqueci antes que pudesse atualizar o meu GoodReads.
Mas como a desgraça chegou ao fim, quando vi o sétimo, versão inglesa, ilustrada, capa dura, lindamente preservado no sebo aqui perto, não resisti. Foi parar na minha estante, e lá ficou depois que eu tentei ler os primeiros capítulos e descobri que ela não era tão explicativa a ponto de eu entender que diabos se passava. Depois deste filme, porém, estou tentando lê-lo. Minha última tentativa. Está sendo bem cômico carregar o tijolo de livro pra lá e pra cá, mas divertido. Deseje-me sorte!

Estréias (é, com acento.)
Eu não fui a muitas estréias não, e das poucas que eu fui, tirando HP, a maioria foi por engano. Filas gigantes e povo fanático geralmente fantasiado costuma ser regra (embora ontem só tenha conseguido enxergar três caras vestidos a caráter). Mas o legal é que o povo fanático geralmente fantasiado da fila gigante é bem simpático. Conviver pacificamente por quase duas horas deve exigir algum nível de bom humor. Eu sempre me surpreendo.
Convenhamos que ver qualquer coisa na estréia nunca é pelo filme propriamente dito, é pela novidade. Nenhuma pessoa sã gostaria de passar por todo o drama de conseguir ingressos, ficar na fila e achar um bom lugar pelo único propósito de ver o filme. Especialmente porque é uma experiência coletiva. O povo berra quando o Radcliffe aparece na tela. O povo assobia quando a Emma aparece. O povo ri quando o Grint faz as caretas. Aliás, toda sessão de cinema é uma experiência coletiva, mas ela tende a ser mais reservada, na forma de comentários para os vizinhos amigos. Em estréia a euforia é tanto que o comentário escapole e vai para a sala inteira.
Particularmente, acho que estréias valem a pena justamente por causa disto.
Estréias e cinema - e entretenimento coletivo em geral, vai - são que nem Halloween: eu não vou por causa dos doces, eu vou pela diversão de ver um grupo estranhamente vestido bater de porta em porta pedindo açucar e ganhando maçãs.

sábado, 11 de julho de 2009

Holidays, once again

Oh Scarlett O'Hara... no-one will ever look as beautiful as you.

I know I'm a complainer, but I'm one that doesn't remember what she's complained about, so every time there's an upcoming holiday I make a mental list (doomed to be forgotten for my own sake in the third day of vacations, of course) and I make plans for the whole 30 or 60 days I'm going to have "all to myself".
What I always forget is that I actually hate the freaking holidays. I do.
I like having a plan, I like being in bed and thinking "Wake up, wake up, you gotta get up and go do this and that". I hate being in bed at noon and thinking "Wake up, wake up. You gotta eat." And then what? Stare as my dog runs the semi-backyard? Watch some more zillion hours of TV? Do my nails for the hundredth time? Attempt to read some other book and feel my eyelids closing to get some more zillion hours of sleep?
RGH. I hate wasting time, specially when I don't know what it was wasted for.
But then the reason behind the "Oh My God, What Can I Do?" holiday crisis seems to be on the lack of hobbies. So I'm in a desperate attempt to find a hobby. And like it. Very much. Enough to give me something to do for the next three weeks. Or at least a goal. I could have a goal.
I could really use a goal, actually. Someone give a goal!
And some waking-up pills. I've been in semi-sleeping-coma all day. For DAYS!

have a nice one,