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Blessedly nothing happened of note this weekend in the kennels. Unless you count my day co-workers, who are dumber than a box of rocks, who stuck Bogart, the min-pin who is notorious for pooping in his cage (NEVER outside) and dancing in it, in a lower kennel with a slatted mat, so all the poop got good and packed down between the slats and yours truly got to spend 20 minutes trying to coax it out. I guess they tried to help by putting a puppy pee pad in with him; forgetting that a dog that can't be taught the whole great outside world is suitable for his business probably isn't going to understand the significance of this diaper-sized piece of paper.
Besides Bogart I only had Bailey, the medical director's smooth-coated collie. Bailey is a nice enough dog, but as I discovered when I tried to give her the freedom normally afforded Beowulf, she lacks a single scrap of individual motivation. This is probably how the doctor likes her, but I got tired of her constantly shadowing me ("What are we doing now? How about now? How about now? Whatcha doing now?") in about four minutes, so back into her kennel she went. I prefer animals like cats and ferrets and Beowulf, who check in on me occasionally and then go off to do their own thing. I'm often busy entertaining myself, I can't be responsible for the amusement of another creature too.
~*~
Now, a shitload of movie reviews.
( ::Repo! The Genetic Opera:: )
I was supposed to see this with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dopshoppe, but trust me, Alicia, you would never have forgiven me.
Tery and I finally finished Six Feet Under. I thought Nate's death was sad (see previous post). NOTHING compared to the finale, or specifically, the final six minutes of the finale. I stopped caring if Tery would laugh at me and just sobbed my fool head off, openly and loudly (normally I clamp down until the tears are squeezing painfully out of my squinched-up eyes). It turned out she was crying too (though not as much as at the previously mentioned episode). I declared it the best series finale I've ever seen, and I defy anyone to argue with me.
The problem of course being that the episode on its own wouldn't pack nearly the punch without watching the entire series, and you simply can't recommend a five-season series to someone to watch. What a time commitment! I can barely get my friends to listen to a song I like.
However, if you find yourself laid up in bed for some reason and need a good series to sink your teeth into, one with consistently excellent writing, a realistic look at death in all its aspects, brutal and tender, and honest, flawed characters that you are guaranteed to fall in love with, well, you could do a lot worse than Six Feet Under. 8 out of 5.
To keep up the funereal theme, next up in our queue is Pushing Daisies. On Blu-ray!
( ::Zack and Miri Make a Porno:: )
Probably one of my favorite Kevin Smith movies that doesn't have Rickman in it. A surprising 4 out of 5!
I thought there were a lot more, but I guess not.
This entry feels unnaturally short to me. Which might be a relief to some of my friends.
Besides Bogart I only had Bailey, the medical director's smooth-coated collie. Bailey is a nice enough dog, but as I discovered when I tried to give her the freedom normally afforded Beowulf, she lacks a single scrap of individual motivation. This is probably how the doctor likes her, but I got tired of her constantly shadowing me ("What are we doing now? How about now? How about now? Whatcha doing now?") in about four minutes, so back into her kennel she went. I prefer animals like cats and ferrets and Beowulf, who check in on me occasionally and then go off to do their own thing. I'm often busy entertaining myself, I can't be responsible for the amusement of another creature too.
~*~
Now, a shitload of movie reviews.
( ::Repo! The Genetic Opera:: )
I was supposed to see this with
dopshoppe, but trust me, Alicia, you would never have forgiven me. Tery and I finally finished Six Feet Under. I thought Nate's death was sad (see previous post). NOTHING compared to the finale, or specifically, the final six minutes of the finale. I stopped caring if Tery would laugh at me and just sobbed my fool head off, openly and loudly (normally I clamp down until the tears are squeezing painfully out of my squinched-up eyes). It turned out she was crying too (though not as much as at the previously mentioned episode). I declared it the best series finale I've ever seen, and I defy anyone to argue with me.
The problem of course being that the episode on its own wouldn't pack nearly the punch without watching the entire series, and you simply can't recommend a five-season series to someone to watch. What a time commitment! I can barely get my friends to listen to a song I like.
However, if you find yourself laid up in bed for some reason and need a good series to sink your teeth into, one with consistently excellent writing, a realistic look at death in all its aspects, brutal and tender, and honest, flawed characters that you are guaranteed to fall in love with, well, you could do a lot worse than Six Feet Under. 8 out of 5.
To keep up the funereal theme, next up in our queue is Pushing Daisies. On Blu-ray!
( ::Zack and Miri Make a Porno:: )
Probably one of my favorite Kevin Smith movies that doesn't have Rickman in it. A surprising 4 out of 5!
I thought there were a lot more, but I guess not.
This entry feels unnaturally short to me. Which might be a relief to some of my friends.
