TL;DR Version: I don't even know, you guys. I just...urgh.
Twilight II: NEW MOON ZOMG!
Spoiler-Free (aside from what I knew going into the movie):
Look, I hate the Twilight books. I'm not talking flames on the side of my face, but I made several frustrated growls while reading them. But, that's all a rant for another post.
No matter how I feel about the books, I feel like it's important to remember that the movie is not a book, it's a movie. So, here was me trying to go to see it. I was pleasantly surprised by the first movie, as it spared us all the horrible writing in the books and was just an unmotivated romance story that somehow turned into an epic vampire fight (Alice doing ballet-what-nots before ripping off hippie-hair vampire's head? Awesome). Granted, the pitiful dialogue was still in the movie. As far as I had expected, that pitiful dialogue would be in this movie as well.
I knew they were showing Edward's face when he talked Bella out of motorcycle suicide, as opposed to just his voice (because audience members won't understaaaaand otherwise). I was told that the blank pages of months passing would be replaced by a window montage*. I heard that the fursplosions were non-cheesey (not in terms of story, like, the CGI you guys)**. These were all basic things I either saw from trailers or heard from those who saw early premieres.
And so I walked into the theatre with this in mind, and my posse and I sat and waited. We played "Previously on Twilight:" in order to recap everything we could remember from the first movie for the sake of understanding the continuity from the audience perspective. We listened to cougars behind us talk about Opra, SMeyer, and OMGSHIRTLESSJACOBSQUEE. We noted that, really, every Twihard in the theater had a Blackberry or iPhone and, upon quick peeking, I noticed they were Tweeting anticipation (really, kids? You can't just, you know, share the experience with the people you're with?!). I pondered if they would Tweet the movie (short answer: one girl did, two rows in front of us. And, she slouched down really low to try to hide the glare of the screen). And then, an hour before showtime, half my posse and I got reckless and we went on a mission to buy a magazine, that ended up just being a walk around downtown to stretch our legs and a strategic pee-break before the bathrooms exploded into maximum capacity RIGHT BEFORE THE SHOW (as they always do).
I also began texting Ashley and Dinah before the show. Dinah was at a different Twilight premiere, and sported her Team Shovel shirt. Personally, I thought it meant to just bury "the spare". Bludgeoning worked exceptionally well too, though.
And then the greatest thing happened; the lights dimmed, the projector started rolling, we covered our ears, and a defening scream came from the audience...that stopped slowly in a pathetic dwindle-out, "Oh, wait, that's not the movie...shit, let's pretend we were excited for the Lovely Bones trailer. Woooo?" I laughed.
I laughed harder still when the actual movie started and the girls were clueless about such ("Wait, is this it? I CAN'T TELL BECAUSE YOU CHANGED THE SOUNDTRACK AND THE FILTER! NO MOAR BLUUUUUUUE!").
AND THEN THE MOVIE STARTED. WARNING: SPOILERS.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Flustered Fury Flurry
Dear Mechanics of the World,
I am lady. I am aware. You, obviously, are also aware of that fact, as I am aware you are (generally) man.
If you came into my work, which is generally comprised of females (I am a seamstress), and said to me, "this zipper won't work. I think some teeth are broken," I would not arch my eyebrows at you and say, "well, little boy, I think you don't know what you're talking about. You probably just haven't tried pulling the zipper up." No, I would listen intently, give you an estimate, and then take the zippered-article of clothing into the back and attempt zipping it to asses the problem based on your description. Why? Because I have the good common sense to know that just because you are a man walking into a trade establishment dominated by ladies, you may still know enough about your article of clothing to know when the zipper is not working, as opposed to user error. And, even if that's not the case, I still have the good sense not to be condescending to a customer in my workplace. If I did, you might (reasonably) take your patronage elsewhere, and I would be without customer.
The problem (double standard, if you will) arises out of the fact that all of you seem to act this way towards your lady-customers, so we are left without alternative places to go.
I am tired of this. I am tired of waiting on the schedule of my [male figure: brother, father, friend, etc.] so that I may take him with me to your shop so you will actually listen to me. I am tired of how when I resort to doing this, you only look at and talk to [male figure] to discuss the issue of my car, even when I'm the one telling you everything about it. I'm tired of showing up on my own, and you making stupid comments like, "well, you probably just think you did that. Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll take a look and do it right." Your sexist comments are not charming.
Yes, I am a lady. However, when I say "I've already changed the [seemingly problem element: brake fluid, transmission fluid, oil, coolant, tire, etc.], and the car's still not working properly, which makes me think it has something to do with [element out of repair control when not in a car shop: pipes, wiring, cylinders, engine, etc.], which is why I've brought it here." This does not mean I've Googled "Things under the hood("OH MY GOD, PEOPLE PIERCE THAT?!")" and have come into your business hoping my terminology will totes give me some sort of "shop cred". It means I did those things. There is still a problem. Please fix it as best you can, based on the information I've given you.
Granted, I understand that you might possibly think I have no idea what I'm talking about, as I am sure there are plenty of ladies out there who fit that stereotype of knowing nothing about cars; who have never had the "luxury" of driving junkers and learning to navigate under the hood and problem solve on their own. But, that doesn't mean that all ladies are like that and should suffer your eye roll. It means, just as it means when you come into my female-dominated shop, that we are a customer, and deserve to be treated with respect. It means you should at least try to talk to us before using [male figure] as a liaison. It means that I am not incompetent or entirely dependent just because I am female. It means if you call me "little" one more time, I'm going to show you just how un-lady like I can be.
So take that wrench you're waving around (so you can look busy), shove it up your ass, listen to what I say, and then fix my god-damned car.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
All your "Little Ladies"
I am lady. I am aware. You, obviously, are also aware of that fact, as I am aware you are (generally) man.
If you came into my work, which is generally comprised of females (I am a seamstress), and said to me, "this zipper won't work. I think some teeth are broken," I would not arch my eyebrows at you and say, "well, little boy, I think you don't know what you're talking about. You probably just haven't tried pulling the zipper up." No, I would listen intently, give you an estimate, and then take the zippered-article of clothing into the back and attempt zipping it to asses the problem based on your description. Why? Because I have the good common sense to know that just because you are a man walking into a trade establishment dominated by ladies, you may still know enough about your article of clothing to know when the zipper is not working, as opposed to user error. And, even if that's not the case, I still have the good sense not to be condescending to a customer in my workplace. If I did, you might (reasonably) take your patronage elsewhere, and I would be without customer.
The problem (double standard, if you will) arises out of the fact that all of you seem to act this way towards your lady-customers, so we are left without alternative places to go.
I am tired of this. I am tired of waiting on the schedule of my [male figure: brother, father, friend, etc.] so that I may take him with me to your shop so you will actually listen to me. I am tired of how when I resort to doing this, you only look at and talk to [male figure] to discuss the issue of my car, even when I'm the one telling you everything about it. I'm tired of showing up on my own, and you making stupid comments like, "well, you probably just think you did that. Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll take a look and do it right." Your sexist comments are not charming.
Yes, I am a lady. However, when I say "I've already changed the [seemingly problem element: brake fluid, transmission fluid, oil, coolant, tire, etc.], and the car's still not working properly, which makes me think it has something to do with [element out of repair control when not in a car shop: pipes, wiring, cylinders, engine, etc.], which is why I've brought it here." This does not mean I've Googled "Things under the hood
Granted, I understand that you might possibly think I have no idea what I'm talking about, as I am sure there are plenty of ladies out there who fit that stereotype of knowing nothing about cars; who have never had the "luxury" of driving junkers and learning to navigate under the hood and problem solve on their own. But, that doesn't mean that all ladies are like that and should suffer your eye roll. It means, just as it means when you come into my female-dominated shop, that we are a customer, and deserve to be treated with respect. It means you should at least try to talk to us before using [male figure] as a liaison. It means that I am not incompetent or entirely dependent just because I am female. It means if you call me "little" one more time, I'm going to show you just how un-lady like I can be.
So take that wrench you're waving around (so you can look busy), shove it up your ass, listen to what I say, and then fix my god-damned car.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
All your "Little Ladies"
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