by guest blogger Erin!
The other night, having little to do with myself which did not involve being a productive member of society, I took myself down to the local cinema, intent on watching a dazzling comedy, full of madcap adventure, strong performances and a bit of nostalgia for a time when I didn’t feel that the lead actors were phoning in their every performance.
Unfortunately, Get Him to the Greek was sold out. So I watched Sex and the City 2 instead.
Gentle readers, I haven’t seen a movie this horrifying and emotionally scarring since the time I sat on marla’s couch, watching the credits roll on Deadgirl, and wondering if I was ever going to be able to scrub the images in that movie out of my head (answer: no. Which is why Deadgirl is awesome). What’s worse is that my cinematic companions – that family in front sharing stale popcorn, the giggly girls in back who actually called each other “girlfriend,” as in, “you go, girlfriend!” – did not even realize the horror that was being splashed across the screen. They mistakenly believed that this movie was some sort of comedic effort, but I knew better. This movie is terror. I shall endeavor now to detail for you all the evil machinations of the worst screen villain in years: the Excess Villain.
Danny Isn't Here, Mrs. Torrance 