![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
So...the weekend was. Pretty good fun on Sunday, when Mom took us over to her friend Jodi's to see if a mattress she was getting rid of would suit our purposes (oh boy, does it). Cal had a fine time playing with various toys Jodi kicked his way, then ended up playing with two cardboard boxes for what seemed like an hour. He was able to put together the sentence: "Put the box on top of me please, Mommy," essentially pretty much out of nowhere, thus proving my thesis that if he just wants something bad enough, language suddenly appears. He got a nice haul out of it, at any rate, while I ended up with an agate worry-egg and one of those anatomical dummies you can take apart and put back together, which is currently sitting on my desk-top. Did you know the liver is right underneath the lungs, basically? I might have known it once, but obviously forgot. (Knew enough to fit the stomach in on top of the guts, though!)
Otherwise...I saw The Girl Who Played With Fire on Saturday night, finally, which indeed has far less of a sense of visual style than the previous film and (like most sequels) doesn't really need to exist, yet provides a bunch of highly enjoyable moments, nevertheless: Lisbeth Salander tasering three separate guys in the junk, for example--always a smart move to start fights with, when you're five feet nothing and 88 pounds. Or using essentially the same "if I taser you you will hang yourself, so don't lie to me" trick that the killer used on Mikael Blomqvist at the end of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo on somebody she needs info from. (Waste not, want not!) Or Blomqvist, when a guy says: "Do you understand that if you write this article, my life will be ruined?", simply replying: "Yes." Its weaknesses, OTOH, are exactly the same as the book's--ie the loss of the best part of Dragon Tattoo, which is watching Blomqvist and Lisbeth interact together directly, as the ultimate crime-solving fuck-buddy Odd Couple.
In yet more sexy exciting news of householding, meanwhile, our fucking fridge has apparently died on us. This meant I had to throw out a shit-load of chicken and other no-longer-frozen items, while simultaneously spending all of last night cooking everything that was still cookable and could potentially be stored in the freezer, which is currently about as cold as a fridge normally is. The fridge, OTOH, isn't very cold at all, as we found out when we tried to make tea and eat yoghurt. Between this, the leak and the damn toilet tank (which still needs to be replaced), it's like everything's dying at once...wearing out simultaneously, like underwear. Except far more costly, and annoying.
Okay, so: Need to go back to the bookment, get a couple more chapters outlined, then return to Nine and try to clock some wordage. Tonight is the first So You Think You Can Dance Canada performance show, after all.
Otherwise...I saw The Girl Who Played With Fire on Saturday night, finally, which indeed has far less of a sense of visual style than the previous film and (like most sequels) doesn't really need to exist, yet provides a bunch of highly enjoyable moments, nevertheless: Lisbeth Salander tasering three separate guys in the junk, for example--always a smart move to start fights with, when you're five feet nothing and 88 pounds. Or using essentially the same "if I taser you you will hang yourself, so don't lie to me" trick that the killer used on Mikael Blomqvist at the end of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo on somebody she needs info from. (Waste not, want not!) Or Blomqvist, when a guy says: "Do you understand that if you write this article, my life will be ruined?", simply replying: "Yes." Its weaknesses, OTOH, are exactly the same as the book's--ie the loss of the best part of Dragon Tattoo, which is watching Blomqvist and Lisbeth interact together directly, as the ultimate crime-solving fuck-buddy Odd Couple.
In yet more sexy exciting news of householding, meanwhile, our fucking fridge has apparently died on us. This meant I had to throw out a shit-load of chicken and other no-longer-frozen items, while simultaneously spending all of last night cooking everything that was still cookable and could potentially be stored in the freezer, which is currently about as cold as a fridge normally is. The fridge, OTOH, isn't very cold at all, as we found out when we tried to make tea and eat yoghurt. Between this, the leak and the damn toilet tank (which still needs to be replaced), it's like everything's dying at once...wearing out simultaneously, like underwear. Except far more costly, and annoying.
Okay, so: Need to go back to the bookment, get a couple more chapters outlined, then return to Nine and try to clock some wordage. Tonight is the first So You Think You Can Dance Canada performance show, after all.
