Ninapintasantamaria's Blog

{July 20, 2009}   Oh, no, no, no.

Attention David Heyman, David Yates, and Steve Kloves. I haven’t been that disappointed in a movie in a long time. If that’s really the best you can do, please find other means of employment. I’m really disgusted. I believed all the hype, and was really excited to see this film, because the sixth book was probably my favorite up till that point. Everyone said “It was the best Potter film yet.” Bullshit. Buuuullllllllshit. It flowed terribly, jumping from one thing to the next with no explanation, very little dialogue, and no keeping with the plot in many instances. It looked as if all three of you picked up the book, flipped through, read 3-4 chapters apiece, and said “Ok, yeah, we’ve got enough to make a movie. No need to get the facts, or really follow the storyline”. People who are huge fans of Star Wars will probably love it, because the special effects were good. I can under stand leaving some parts out, because if you didn’t, the movie would be six hours long. And we just couldn’t have an Oscar winning film length *coughGoneWithTheWindcough* now, could we? That would just be too much trouble. You’d have to have actually read the book and made an effort to bring the actual story, written by J.K. Rowling and not some (apparently) illiterate moron, to life. I feel I wasted my $10 I paid for my ticket, and am now planning to watch the next 2 films when they come out on HBO. I refuse to pad your pockets with any more of my money if you refuse to make any better films than that.

And another thing. Speaking of boys and their constant need for correction in the brainiac department. My husband went out Friday evening, with every promise he’d be back in an hour or two. With his friends. That should have been my 1st clue. I’m awakened at approximately 3am to loud banging in my kitchen. My highly inebriated husband was trying to put his leftover Taco Bell burrito in the refrigerator, and failing miserably, as he looked as if his eyes were crossing. I immediately rectified the situation and shuttled him to bed. Loudly. As in “Where the hell have you been? And just why aren’t you in the bed where you belong?” I swear, they really are like children. I’m gonna have to ground him soon, and take away his car keys. Due to the excessive amounts of libation he’d partaken of, he was quite amorous, but, not to worry, I finally got him to sleep. (No!! Not like that!!) And this isn’t even the stupidest part. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one of his group in this condition, as I found out the next morning. I’d taken my shower, and was sitting in my living room in my bathrobe (thank goodness) when all of a sudden, I hear something scrambling around in my guest bedroom and walking into my kitchen. Remember the guy that has a habit of just walking in if he finds the door unlocked? Yeah, well, he had apparently followed my husband through the door the night before, unbeknownst to my drunken husband, and proceeded to crash in my guest bedroom. And now, here he was SCARING THE HELL OUT OF ME!! What if I’d been doing my usual streaking through the house in search of clothes routine? I had to take the YCU to task for that one too. If people cannot handle their liquor, and must stay the night, it is customary to inform the hostess so as to avoid potentially embarrassing situations!!!!! Bunch o’ morons. I swear, I’m gonna break him. If I have to hobble him with a rope like a gott-damn horse, I’m gonna break him.

et cetera