McDonald’s fries have beef in them. On one hand, I’m a carnivore and they do taste good, so I could care less. On the other hand, I know a lot of people who do not and cannot eat meat (vegetarians like Brigita and Jains here in London), and so I think it’s pretty crappy that they’re not required to specify all the ingredients.

Obi-wan was… bisexual? Huh. I’m envisioning all new scenarios for Episodes 2 & 3 to explain the “betrayal” between him and Anakin. Oh yes, Ewan McGregor. You know what I’m talkin’ about. Yeah, baby.

Thank you, Mr. Spielberg. I couldn’t have said it better myself. And note to the Boy Scouts: excluding someone based on gender is *not* the same as excluding someone based on sexuality. That’s why we do have boys’ and girls’ restrooms, but we don’t have gay and straight restrooms. Quit trying to pass the blame.

Ooh! I didn’t realize that the Harry Potter trailer is in theaters already. I may have to go see Spy Kids to get a glimpse.

Hooray! Blogger gets some assistance, finally.

Oh no! The lead singer of the Ramones died yesterday. Nobody ever accomplished more with only four chords.

Ironminds points out some rather dodgy dealings at Plastic.com. I was a big fan of Plastic for exactly one month. I joined, I started posting, and I got hooked. Then they introduced their “Karma Contest.” I thought I might actually stand a chance at winning, what with all the posts I was already making. In fact, I was in the lead for a few days. Then I started getting e-mails from people asking me to trade moderator points with them (i.e. cheat). When I refused, my posts started getting mysteriously modded down. Eventually, I decided that I wasn’t getting out of the service what I put into it. Their discussions were less like back-and-forth conversations and more like a group of screaming, ass-kissing karma whores. The partners that edited the categories unfairly slanted the postings to their own site. And it all started to get way, way too commercial. I don’t need to deal with that. I hope they are doomed.

I’m so mad I could spit. I thought that I wouldn’t find a dumber review of the film than that last one, and then I came across this. I’m so furious I can’t even begin to… Renee Zellweger weighs AT MOST 130 pounds in this film, and this woman has the NERVE to call her “an alcoholic chipmunk en route from the nougat farm”? Does “Carina Chocano” have any idea what the normal female looks like? We have breasts. We have asses. We look like Bridget. The whole point is that she’s normal but believes that she’s not. And it’s this kind of attitude, “Carina,” that fosters such f-ed up body images in young women. If no one had ever seen Renee Zellweger before this film, you wouldn’t have even thought twice about her weight. Beeatch.

Ugh! This reviewer of Bridget Jones’s Diary just didn’t get it. She makes it sound like the whole movie’s about sex. Sex and slutwear. And she liked Hugh Grant’s character. *shudder* Obviously this woman has some serious issues.

A Shakespearean elegy for Kozmo.com: “You all did hear me at parties; I thrice presented Kozmo with a crown of “It’s so wicked cool,” Which the company — faced with discrimination claims and a burn rate rivaling Boo.com’s — it did thrice refuse to acknowledge: Was this ambition?” This writer is good.