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Hopefully you've found this blog by typing one of the above into google/ask/the Nuts website search bar. If so, then whilst you may find that this suits your masturbatory/ comedic purposes less than you had anticipated, feel free to at least attempt to tug yourself off as you read this post.

My last post was a "total random-ass ting lol!!!1!" So now I'm afraid I have to write a post with some purpose. And today i will be reviewing "Alice in wonderland."

If you were looking for a giant twist at the end, then I'm sorry for you. The film shot along with action packed sequences full of fat headed women and mongo-groovy special effects (I bought 3d, although I have no idea why i keep doing it, even though I actually recall my last experience of 3d as I purchase the tickets (which almost always causes the words "RIP OFF" to flash before me in vivid brown and then slide down the screen of my vision like a wet turd). The only thing worth seeing in 3d was the cat. And even that could have been replicated by seeing an ACTUAL 3d cat in real life or with a bit of acid. I suppose I must do it because if I don't buy 3d I feel like I'm cheating myself. I walk up to the counter and say: "Alice in Wonderland" and the woman nonchalantly replies "3d?" I picture her response if I decline her generous offer. It is one of shock, of disgust, she stares at me down her nose like she's just seen a worm with an erection. I recoil in fear as suddenly the entire population of Vue stand up, pulling pitch forks from their arses and begin to walk menacingly towards me. I turn to my friend who stands still among the calm mob, a frighteningly blank expression on his/her face, and as I watch they draw a pen knife and begin to slash wildly around them as they advance with the crowd. The posters light up and I watch in terror as the popcorn begins to turn back to corn: "NO!" I scream, but still the little frozen-white explosions shrink into dull brown blobs until the whole popcorn tub looks like Peter Rabbits outhouse. I sink to my knees, defeated. And then I'm back to reality and only one thing occurs to me: "Buy the 3d tickets. Or face Popcorn Death."(Some may remember Hot Death as a condition caused by high definition of images which often results in Burst Eyeballs, Popcorn Death can result in Hunger, Malnourishment, and in several cases No Popcorn. So i buy the 3d tickets, wear the clunky glasses and get on with my life. Happy?))) But the story itself follows blindly down a corridor of Weird Predictability. The only bit that surprised me was the dancing. And i want it to surprise you too. So I will say no more.

Thrills for all the family one might say. But then this "one"'s grandparents must be dead, because there's sparce noir to the film unlike Tim's other work. The noir's there, but it's surface noir, nothing hard to get into. In summary, I do not recommend if you like your films short dark hard, or warm light and fuzzy because this one is a definite gap-filler (ahem, in the MARKET. (Oh matron!)) and not to be messed with. 8/10

Birthdays

Birthdays. Lets do some word analysis here. Break the word down.

Bi-rt-hd-ay-s

Ok. Lets start with Bi. What does this mean? Is everyone temporarily Bisexual for birthdays? No. Obviously it refers to the two birthdays you have per year, except one you shroud with excuses of the spirit of christ etc. and the other you openly accept as the day your parents claim you were born even though you secretly hope you were built out of a secret material which can create orgasm when introduced to friction. Or cheese. Or perhaps it refers to the number of people that were required to make you. The "tools" or indeed parents that crafted you. You may find that they often act like tools, thus proving my theory.

Now lets move on to rt. This of course is the verb applied in order to make the baby. rtting is an important and often enjoyable part in the person making progress.To find several useful how-to videos on how to enjoy rtting simply type the letter "p" into google, close your eyes and click "I'm feeling lucky". I promise you will feel lucky, as soon as your hand emerges from your trousers.

hd. If you study hd for quite a while, you may find that you begin to lose the will to live. Is this a clue tot he meaning of hd? Perhaps one day we shall know. For now I can only speculate as to why it was placed in the word, but it does have a nice sound to it. hd. Like a fatty falling down an elevator shaft. Of course if you write it like this: HD people often assume it means High Definition. Those that know the truth are few in number. In fact only one in 300 people realise that what is quickly coming to a tv near you is Hot Death. Oh you may sit there in your shorts and bra, sipping on you lemon scotch and fiddling with your crayons, unable to believe the quality of the images you are seeing. But the more you watch the more accustomed you will become and then as soon as you switch to a non HD channel...BOOM. Hot Death. The hidden bone in your eye expands in an effort to "zoom in" to this impossible low quality image, and in doing so bursts your entire eyeball, and comes jutting out your face like nudist out of a playground. Beware Hot Death.

Finally we come to ay. It is of course the sound a stoned man might mike when he's sat on your cake. Your response: "Useless waiters!" Or something else depending on how ridiculous the situation was/is/will be. But most of all its the cry that goes up as the cake arrives, the lights dim and everyone else in the restaurant pointedly talks/coughs/relieves them self over your special moment. But you don't mind. It's your birthday.

A new system is born.

I'm sorry.
To all my loving adoring fan(s) I'm sorry.

To their wives and mothers and sisters I say: I'm sorry.

To their brown dog Shithead who curls up in the corners and chomps his way through Dairy milk in a desperate bid for permature death: I'm sorry.

To their crazy older brother, tying a belt round the hook on the door in a batman suit, in preparation for what he thinks is going to be the greatest orgasm of his life: I'ts overrated and I'm sorry.

Perhaps you want to know why I'm so sorry. Well if you'll sit still for a minute instead of fidgeting with the buckle on those Goddamn trousers I'll tell you.

My previous posts have been in the order: Film review, Film Review, Pushing My Book, Banksy Review, More random et cetera.

But no more! I'm introducing a new system. Pushing it, as it were, from the saturated depths of my treacherous womb into the cold and dangerous new world. The following posts will be arranged like this:

Anything I want

Film review

Anything I want

Film Review

Anything I want

Film Review

Miscellaneous

So now you know.

LOL OMG!!! WTH?

Abbreviation. What is the point? Speed obviously is the point. In fact it's a stupid question. We all want to be able to spew out as many turd-laced sentences and mediocre opinions as possible before we keel over in the dust. And if this means neglecting a few of the longer words or letters that might have made you sound smarter or slightly less frugal, then who cares? Are you going to risk even one second of your life going to waste by just standing there saying stuff you don't need to say? Or, say, sitting around reading meaningless crap on the internet?

Damn skippy! Because in fact we are all time wasters. Hardly an eighth of a percent of what we do is to is done to increase our lifespan or attempt to find inner peace before the Big Drop. Most of what we do is to fill this huge, yawning chasm which has opened up before us. To stop us from realizing that this is life. And we are all going to die.

So yeah, sit in front of your stupid television. Close your eyes because you think you need sleep. Blow another eight hours in the dark, just thinking and breathing. There's no scientific proof you need sleep, probably. Why should you sleep? Why can't you spend all night sitting on the floor watching old dvds and crying? Better than wasting your stupid time on sleep. Imagine if maybe, instead of just lying there, mouth agape, eyes clamped shut, dreaming all the trippy stuff, you used all that imagination to, say, write a novel, or do a musical score, or write a blog, yeah? Write a blog so that the world can hear about all the whacked out perverted mindscapes you've been on. Like the ten-foot high jelly bean that stalked your mother and then destroyed your relationship with your pen pal by inventing the email ten years early. Then breaking wind whilst sitting on the clothes you'd laid out for tomorrow.

But then of course you'll become like all the rest. They'll criticise your judgement. They'll molest your opinion. They'll rape your ideas, you'll be running in cirlces through the blogosphere desperately clawing to some semblance of reason, but then...what is reason? And so you converge with all the screaming babbling apes that roam the internet. And people will call you what they called all the others. A f***ing looney.

So what was my rant about this week? How did this make you feel? Why don't you create a blog about your particular complaint/praise/mediocre point of view and then spread it nationwide like SARS or an STI? If that last question offended you, why don't you write a stern letter to the editor? You may not have read the question, but perhaps you've heard about it and become enraged/disgusted/amused/incomprehensible with rage. If that last option sounded like you, go to the blogger website, click on the create blog link, and then mash your fists against the keyboard until either the skin breaks or you fall asleep in your whipped up fury of destruction/masturbation/silent crying.