Cancer causing agents shouldn't be this sexy

I have to stop reading a certain R’s blog. It makes me want things I should not want, and dream of things I cannot have. Desire for something, although it cannot be quenched, can at least be controlled.

On a separate note, I owe The Other Cat an apology and concede, with newfound respect, her ability to sift the wheat from the chaff of Hollywood hotties.

I just watched Constantine and I have seen the light. No longer does Keanu Reeves look like he’s trying not to end his sentences with the word “Dude” by sheer effort of will, thus forgetting to act. Now he sets off a five-alarm fire somewhere south of Slinky’s sternum. Funny that it took him playing a demon-seeing suicidal chain-smoker to see it. Maybe it’s just that he looks so damn hot when he lights up. That flick of the wrist as he naps the lighter and drags. The sensuous curl of the lips on the exhale, the narrowed eyes. Oh, be still my Slinky heart.

(He still has a wooden face though, albeit a very well-carved one)




I am still nowhere near convinced by your Josh Hartnett obsession though. The man is an acting idiot.

One little irony I observed after watching Constantine (which, by the way, revolves around someone who’s dying of lung cancer from smoking 15 sticks a day) After the movie was over and the gory portrayals of exactly what happens to you when you smoke were done, a small but determined group of pariahs lit up the second they reached the outdoors.

So much for your anti-smoking message, Hollywood.

My favourite quote of the day, not that anyone cares, is "Own it if you're going to claim it. Be a bitch, if you want to be a coward". It inhabits an entirely different universe of grammatical logic completely, much like those crazy Japanese slogans

Happy New Year people.