Party Animals

So I’ve had a lot of fun recently. And this week I’ve been seeing lots of people I haven’t seen in a while. I unfortunately didn’t take any pictures of them. Instead, here are some animals. The fake antelope head is my favourite.

Spiderman, Spiderman, does whatever... he's paid to do

I just saw Spiderman 3 and it has made me ask the question: why can’t Hollywood make third films? I don’t wanna go historical or nothing (what with Godfather 3 and probably lots of others sucking), but last year both X-Men 3 and Mission Impossible 3 sucked ass to an incredible level after the first 2 of both had been alright or quite good. And the thing is, this year is gonna be filled with number 3s so I’m pretty fucking worried that they will all suck too.

I know this is gonna look like geek rage (I am not a Spiderman geek by the way – yes I watched the cartoon when I was little and yes I own a Spiderman plastic cup – but my brother gave it to me ok!), but I have made a list of questions you should ask yourself after having seen Spiderman 3. They don’t probe many of the main problems with this film, but they are what confused the fuck out of me as I left the cinema. And please don’t answer these questions with comic book answers, because this is not the comic book Spiderman. All I am asking for is some consistency within this multi-million pound Hollywood film. All I am asking for is it not to suck. But it did.

Anyway, don’t read this if you haven’t seen the movie, as it will ruin it:

- Why wasn’t Mary Jane wearing her waitressing outfit at the end of the movie?
- Why did she stop her job when her boyfriend came in (who she must see every fucking day)?
- Why did the Goblin guy only fire two rockets at the fucking huge Sandman, when he happily fired loads at tiny little Spiderman?
- Why didn’t the Green Goblin lay a trap for Spiderman when he clearly knew he was coming (coz he had the suit on under his clothes)?
- Why did Spiderman try to take his black suit off at that church? Why not at home?
- Why couldn’t he get that suit off when he had been taking it off and on previously with ease?
- Why did Spiderman keep taking his mask off at random in the street? Does he not understand the concept of a secret identity?
- Why were there little kids up at the end of the film, when it was just before dawn?
- Why didn’t the explosion next to the Green Goblins head blow his head clean off?
- What happened to all the falling debris in the film?
- Why did those metal poles make so much noise at the end of the film?
- Why did he not try to capture the Sandman at the end, just because he had apologised?
- Why didn’t Spiderman try use a hose on the Sandman as water had worked before?
- Why did Spiderman not question at all where the black suit came from?
- Why did the black suit hang out in his flat for a few weeks before enveloping him?
- Why didn’t the black suit go on Mary Jane when it was on the back of the moped?
- Why were there so many single tears in the film? Seriously, there were more single tears than hand severings in Star Wars 3 (which was the exception to the rule about the third film sucking)
- Why did Spiderman forget he could make webbing for a few seconds when he was strung up at the end by Venom?
- Why did the Green Goblin jump in the way of his snowboard thingy instead of wacking Venom with any of the building materials lying around like Spiderman eventually did?
- Why did Venom mention he had spidey sense but then not have it seconds later when Mary Jane blapped him with that cinder block (which by the way was a fucking wicked shot)
- Why did all the child actors in that movie suck?

It’s late and I can’t be bothered to continue. This list of questions probably only scratches the surface, but I’ll let the millions of other disgruntled spidey fans pose the others to each other.

In conclusion this film sucked. I am upset I gave it my opening weekend bucks. At least Bruce Campbell was in it anyway hey.

Gotta keep moving

So with everyone perpetually talking about house prices being on the up and up, I thought it was finally time to move. I have been stuck in this little cell in my momma’s house for way to long, and much as I love the home cooking, I think it is finally time for me to spread my wings and feed myself.

We started looking in Clapham two weeks ago on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Having been out all night, and having dressed appropriately for the cold of night time, I was wearing my duvet sized parka and my not-so-tough hoodie. Which meant that I was sweating. A lot. And of course being out all night doesn’t stop you from getting a hangover, no matter what your friends say. In fact quite the opposite. It’s like when you start drinking early in the day and you get hungover before dinner time without ever having gone to sleep.

So anyway, there we were, the 5 of us, wondering up Clapham High Street (I assume that’s what that road is called anyway – I never pay attention to where I am in London thanks to the wonders of the tube being able to get me home no matter how lost I am). It was hot, I felt sick and we had estate agents to see. When we had met up in the McDonalds (for a bit of childish dutch courage) we all tried to conjure up places where we thought estate agents were. We could only think of one between us, so that is what we headed for.

More fool us. There were dozens. Hundreds. Thousands even. Every few yards was another glass window filled with pictures of other peoples homes, and just behind them were the best paid salespeople around. Estate Agents. Now I’m not one to judge (well I am, but I try not to be), but it is the general consensus that these people are scum. They make you rent somewhere just a bit worse that you want, so they can get the commission, and so that they can rent a place that you would have liked to someone who is slightly more snobby than you (so that its just a bit worse than they would have wanted too). And how do they do this? By making you feel like your house hunt is hopeless. Yes, despite the fact that the property market is booming, there is in fact nowhere to live. Nowhere reasonable priced anyway. So after going in a million or so Estate Agents, and being told a million or so times that there was just nowhere suitable at the moment, we gave in and decided to go to Foxtons.

Now personally I don’t have anything against Foxtons. I think their use of Mini’s is good idea, but that probably only stems from the fact that the number 256 (yes they all have a number if you look) works the Richmond area, and for one reason or another, that is my lucky number. But anyway, all my future live-in-friends hate Foxtons. HATE THEM. They all have stories about being supposedly ripped off by this firm, although I suspect that they actually just don’t like the new Mini’s (“It’s just not the same”) and take it out on these home sellers.

We went in anyway, because the least hungover of our group proclaimed “Well at least we’ll get free beer”. And free beer is, of course, always awesome. I had seen those little fridges stacked with them time after time, and I had always wanted a piece of the action. Oh yeah baby. So we went in, we filled in our details, we looked at the boards, we told them what we wanted… and they told us they had nothing for us. We dejectedly sat around in their air conditioning for a minute wondering where to go from here. The least hungover of us finally (and boldly) went to the reception and talked in general about properties in the area until at last… drinks were offered! Hallelujah!

Except that they only gave us two bottles. Of coke. Between five of us. Estate agents really are scum.