girl-aflame's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Just Call Me Sea-Wench Alright, that's it. I've GOT to see Pirates of the Carribean. When I first saw the advertisements for that film, I said to myself, "Never, Michelle. No way in HELL will you buy a ticket for a movie about 'ghost pirates', doing the best rendition of the CGI dance since Attack of the Clones to distract you from the total lack of plot or acting. No way will you watch in disgust and disillusionment at the debauchary of Orlando Bloom who dares to, after portraying the always elegant Legolas, defile himself with a role such as this, only to further increase his hoardes of screaming future Plastic Surgery Association of America member teenage fans. And why encourage Johnny Depp on his downward spiral, as he sinks lower into the pit of ridiculous last ditch efforts at fading fame?" It would be too horrible to imagine, right? But then poppyfish saw it and raved. And granted, she's a horny little bugger, so mostly I shrugged it off as a side effect of living in Arkansas where she'd have a better chance at striking up intellectual conversation with the tumbleweeds than with the people. After that, arandomname saw it and also enjoyed it, and she seems like quite the intelligent chick. I mean, imageless layout, plain white and black with words for decoration - a sure sign of intellectual genius. I became a little warmer to the concept, when suddenly, speaking of genius... dumbgenius has now seen it, and that, minions, is the final straw that breaks the parrot's back. If he could see it, and like it, and enjoy Depp as the flamboyant Captain Sparrow, then I must also buy a ticket. If it's good enough for Walbert, then by God, it's good enough for Michelle. 3:23 p.m. - Saturday, Jul. 26, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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