web-goddess

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.

I saw this virtual Dubya game on the Channel 5 news the other night. (I think the newscasters were really looking for any story whatsoever that didn’t have to do with foot-and-mouth disease.) I was all set to snicker at the Prez’s expense, except that the story has started to sound very fishy. I mean, picture this: you’re the head of a crappy “software entertainment” company whose biggest claim to fame so far is designing the Pamela Anderson Tamagotchi. Hmmm, what would really drum up interest (and presumably stock prices)? Cashing in on an international crisis. Make up something that mocks America and then claim that two billion Chinese (red bastards) are downloading it ’round the clock. Get your company mentioned in every newspaper in the world. Retire a millionaire.
 
Or maybe I’m just getting jaded.

If you’re interested, I just posted photos of our house and the recent Korean Feast. The house photos are really for Snookums’s and my mothers, but you might get a kick out of seeing how us Brits live.

I am Bridget Jones.

Well, not really. But I did see the film today and I didn’t hate Renee Zellweger. In fact, I almost kinda-sorta related to her. But first things first: the movie was good. I was happy with some of the things they expanded from the book and disappointed by some of the things they had to cut, but overall I definitely had a good time. They really pared it down to a romantic-comedy and cut most of the girl-power, weight-obsession, Colin Firth references (for the obvious reason), and “Pride & Prejudice” overtones. And they completely changed the ending. (Actually, that’s probably for the best. That whole subplot about Bridget’s mom running away with “Julio” was a bit contrived.) I laughed a bit though, and I was sad a bit though, and I was happy when I left the cinema.

Renee Zellweger was wonderful. There, I said it. She looks great with the extra weight (she’d still qualify for “thin”, if you ask me, but at least this way she has boobs and a bum). Her accent was a little unsettling at first, but once I got used to it coming from her, it stopped sounding fake and just became Bridget’s voice. Her mannerisms and her facial expressions… they were spot on. You may never hear me say this again – given my eternal hatred for anyone who looks remotely like Jewel – but I like Renee Zellweger. Well, as Bridget anyway.

And now for the questions I know all you Americans are dying to ask. First off, no, I’ve never been to a Tarts & Vicars party. (Our Deviant and Diverse Party, while similar, still hardly qualifies.) No, there’s no way Bridget could afford that flat on her salary. No, I’ve never met Salman Rushdie. And most emphatically, no, it never snows that prettily – and thickly – in Central London. Satisfied?

I do this weird thing, where I read and watch things that I know are going to piss me off. Do you do that? For example, I just finished reading the latest “Dawson’s Creek” recap over at MBTV. It (the show, not the recap) enraged me, as I knew it would. Another example – I always read Victoria Hervey‘s column in the Sunday Times Style magazine, even though I know she’s a mindless name-dropping upper-class tart that’s just going to drive me up the wall. Another example – I managed to find a copy of the film Danny, the Champion of the World, which was based on the Roald Dahl book. Jeremy Irons aside, they completely ruin the story. They take out all the morally objectionable bits and replace it with Robbie Coltrane and a horrible plot contrivance. It never fails to completely appall me. And yet I watch it repeatedly. These things are my hair shirts, and I must be really penitent subconsciously.