Wednesday

Cal is now purging thick, yellow-tinged licks of snot freely from both nostrils, and every time I try to wipe them away he screams like I just shot his figurative puppy. Last night was Supernatural, still stupid (though I do like the characters, oddly, which is what keeps me watching...it also occurs to me that this may be the single easiest new show to pitch a spec for thus far, given my interests and bank of stored-up knowledge, so maybe I should go ahead and do that. That way I can pretend I'm getting more out of it than a gratuitous weekly shot of Pretty Times Two.), and House of Wax, which was surprisingly vicious and enjoyable, given how much everyone I know pissed on it from a height. Then again, that's what i always say, isn't it? Or nearly so.

Actually, I'm beginning to wonder whether I should just hang up my Horror Movie Critic hat for good, considering how often I cut slack to things the majority think are Dragging the Whole Genre Down a Big Hole in the Centre of the Earth and then fail to jump on board whatever the majority considers The Next Big Thing Which Will Prove Horror is Something That MATTERS. Haute Tension, for example...good gore and some solid real-time thrills, yet devalued almost completely by a break-neck third-act shift-of-perspective T-W-I-S-T that simply reeked of two French dudes in a room somewhere going: "Oh YES, we MUST do eeet! Eeet weel be zee SHEET!"

And now Cal is in a misery-lather because I won't let him hump the laundry-basket. I'll return.