The movie Love Actually has many fans.  I am not one of them.  SO MANY of my friends love this movie, a surprisingly large number of them are males.  NPH and I rented it last night from Blockbuster (as he said after, “I’m glad we’ve just gotten to the point where no one questions us watching romantic comedies together”) because everyone we know just loves the movie and it has to do with Christmas and the whole cast has adorable British accents and we happened to not be drinking last night so didn’t have much else better to do.

Now, this wasn’t Seven Pounds bad, but it was bad in that the audience is supposed to go along with Hugh Grant being the prime minister of England and Billy Bob Thorton as the prez of our great nation.  Yep, you’ve already lost me.  Also, there is a great deal of infidelity in this movie.  In the words of the rugged caveman also watching, “It’s not that hard to be faithful.  In fact, it’s harder to not be faithful.  Being faithful requires you to not DO anything.”

Now, there are two BRILLIANT ACTORS of our time in this film.  Liam Neeson and Alan Rickman.  Liam Neeson is not chasing after boats and international terrorists who have kidnapped his daughter to be sold into sex slavery in this movie, so I’m not exactly sure why he’s in it.  (<– if you didn’t get that Taken reference, drop what you’re doing and get your ass to a Red Box or Netflix, pronto.)  Alan Rickman, not that bad looking of a dude when not dressed in Death Eater robes and unwashed Severus Snape-y hair, is a man who I can no longer take seriously after that one episode of Family Guy (below, for your enjoyment.)

(Look, Dad– I embedded a video all on my own!)

Anyway, the rest of the movie is full of comPLETEly unbelievable, over-the-top, not funny, completely cheeseball “romantic” storylines that involve a man being in love with his best friend’s wife, Colin Firth proposing in broken Portuguese, two porn star stand-ins getting married, Laura Linney’s mentally ill brother ruining her love life, and OF COURSE, a ten-year-old boy running past security in post-9/11 Heathrow on Christmas Eve to tell his classmate she’s the love of his life.  Oh, and Denise Richards inexplicably shows up in the end.  Yep, that was my Wednesday night.  All was not lost, however.  Neil’s mom made some bomb-tastic pumpkin bread with walnuts and raisins in it, and he let me slice off the sugar-coated top and still kinda doughy middle instead of cutting regular slices like a normal person.  The bonus is that now it looks like some sort of dog has gotten into the pan and no way will any of the other housemates touch it.  That bread is mine, bitches.

Perhaps I will post later (ooh, two posts today, possibly to make up for yesterday’s blogging just for the sake of putting something up– sorry, Natalie!)  I bought a netti pot and want to tell the WORLD about shoving a spout full of liquid up one nostril and letting the contents of my sinus cavities drain out the other.

Also, did you know that Scotland is not a country?  It is a “devolved state” or something.  Not actually sovereign.  WHAT.THE.FUCK.  I am now questioning everything I ever thought to be true in the world.

Cottage cheese is the bomb dot com.

Apparently I’m intimidating.  We were given feedback from our peers in one of my classes, and the instructor said “at first your group members found you intimidating, but later realized that was not the case.”  Roomie corroborates this character assessment.  I find this laughable, yet not surprising.  Usually people just say I’m a stone cold bitch when they first meet me.  More acquaintances than I can count have said to me, “You know, when so-and-so first introduced me to you, I thought you hated me.”  Methinks this goes back to the whole awkward thing.  And that I’m usually generally uninterested in meeting new people.  Especially if they are female.  As Neil pointed out today, I automatically assume an adversarial role with all unknown females in a situation.  I do not know why this is. 

Also, when I tell my friends that I am the least confrontational person they know and that I HATE conflict, they laugh in my face.  So apparently I’m an intimidating bitch who wants to rough your shit up.  You’ve been warned.

Tomorrow is my brother’s birthday.  He will be 19.  He will not be getting a birthday present from me 1.) I do not have the funds.  2.) We’ve never been big birthday gift exchangers. 3.) He told me people only think I’m funny when I bitch about stuff.  So he can just go shove it.

OH, so Neil never came to my house last night for the BBQ thing because his car started smoking on the interstate and he spent the majority of his afternoon waiting for it in a repair shop (he has assured me this was not a tall tale in order to get out of meeting my parents.)  So I decided to pack up and head back to the ol’ IC early and boy howdy I’m glad I did.  Not that over a week at home wasn’t fun and all, but last night was a quality evening that could not have been had elsewhere. 

Did you know that part of Turkey is in Europe and part of it is in Asia?  I’d like to think there’s a giant sign that says NOW ENTERING ASIA or something, and a nice tourist-trap type photo op where you can be on two continents at once.  NPH says I am an idiot. 

You know what’s on the ol’ jellyvision tonight?  Family Guy AND Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew.  Boy howdy my night is set, if I can keep my eyes open.  Then the best friend and I have a date with the grill because THIS GUY found a new BBQ sauce at Hy-Vee and we gotta test it out.  I’ve obviously already tried a dab of it, it tastes like barbecue potato chips.  Roomie was all, “Umm, crazy pants, why are you drinking barbecue sauce?”  And then I CUT HER THROAT with a kitchen knife cuz I’m so INTIMIDATING!!!  …or maybe I just said, “Not drinking, just sampling.”  And she thought, “The girl I live with has serious issues.  That tall Shrek-looking kid she’s always hanging out with has really poisoned her brain.”  Hey, if sticking your finger in a jar of sauce and discerning the aroma like a fine wine is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right.