The misery of The Hobbit

Yeah, so I went to see The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.  It's an event innit?  Going to be one of those films that goes down in history as a famous epic.  I think I enjoyed it but my initial one word review had been

'meh...'

...which is wrong.  I wondered why a film which had immersed me so deeply would cause such a shrug shouldery reaction in response.  Then I realised; I'd been too immersed and had gone mental (as usual). Yup, my unhelpful inner voice had ruined the whole fucking thing for me by making me over think.

On the whole, the film had too much happening, from being chased by various hoards of 'things' to being in the middle of angry fucking rocks beating ten kinds of shit out of each other.  I just know that had I been part of the adventurous group I'd have made the whole thing a hundred times worse for everyone.  That's what my brain does, puts me in the middle of stuff but not in a cool way, in an all too real way until the majesty of the thing is ruined.

Of course, after the film my freakish mind had left me feeling a bit traumatised 'cause there was SO much that would have made me mental had I been part of the company. Yeah, I'd be there fancying the arse off Thorin (Richard Armitage) and Kili (Aidan Turner) but I would have wanted them to have seen me as mysterious, windswept and interesting but then I can't do that stuff 'cause I tend to over-share pretty much EVERYTHING that ever happens to me as well as every sodding thought I have.

You can't be mysterious after you've just told a group of Dwarves that you had just had a shit which felt like it had come out sideways.  I'd like to think I wouldn't say stuff like that but y'know, I probably would.  I still tell people I found a dead squashed ant in my pubes once and that was over 10 years ago!  I won't even start with the whole being accidentally startled by my own vagina that time.

Oh yeah.  I just need to say that as a bona fide lady I don't shit or have pubes.  I have no unpleasant bodily functions and forever smell like roses.  I do genuinely go for the Kojak look nowadays so if my pubes had ant killing qualities then I am like a Goddess to them now.  Or an ant Saint.  That'd be shit wouldn't it; Saint Sket of the ants and the story tells how she rid the ants of the tangled murderous, slightly odoriferous jungle of doom and led them to peace and freedom.  Why would I even type that into a blog?  THIS is why I am destined to forever be alone. I bet that arse Samuel Pepys never wrote about dead ants in his nethers. No, he'd be too wrapped up documenting the history of his age and telling future generations about life in his day. Well, I put it to you Mr Samuel bloody Pepys if that's even your real name, the people of MY future want to know about shitting and being a moron in the 21st Century.  Oh yes.  HELL to the yes!

...back to the misery of  Hobbit.  No doubt I wouldn't have been able to find the shoes I wanted to wear and that would be another thing.  See, ol' Bilbo didn't have much warning and if it had been me I'd have wanted to know what kind of weather we'd be expecting.  I mean, who wants to lumber a big fuck-off coat around with them if it's going to be warm - we've all been there and it's a misery.  Also, I wouldn't have expected to need running shoes to escape from all the hoards of ugly stuff trying to kill me!  Who'd even think that?  I'd have put hiking boots on and they rub like all fuckery don't they? There are no blister plasters in Middle Earth, mark my words! Oh god my hair too - it's naturally curly but not in a nice way, in a tangley bird nest way.  It needs proper conditioning or else it just turns into a big horrible mess.  THAT'S not sexy and no way to pull Kili is it? I got a Cockatiel's feet stuck in my hair once and a gerbil another time. I'm vegetarian too but I don't like onions.  I'd have been a right misery just banging on and on about my arse hurting on my hairy pony, being hungry, not being able to see 'cause I didn't bring enough contact lenses with me, my hair being a mess, being paranoid that Thorin and Kili were actively trying to keep their distance from me, being borderline hysterical 'cause things were attacking us and once we'd escaped SOMETHING ELSE having a go at killing us.  I'd have shin splints from all the running and heck, I'm not fit enough for all this shit. I'd have also been the one complaining that the giant Eagles should have taken us to our final destination not just dumping us on a rock where we could just SEE the fucking mountain.  Lazy feathered bastards.  Yeah, and in Lord of the Rings, if Gandalf had access to giant fuck off eagles, why didn't he get them to give Frodo and Sam a friggin lift straight to Mount Doom? Yeah, it would have shortened the trilogy quite significantly but that's not the point.  I'd have been bloody livid.

So yeah, I think, between you and me, my Wizardly and Dwarven companions would have turned on me themselves after a day.

...and that's why I didn't enjoy The Hobbit as much as I should have

Shovel Weirdness

So, I came home from work today and was excited to see that the Tidiness Nazi was out which meant so were the ferkin' dogs.  I love it when the dogs are out.  Pet ownership is a lifetime of misery if you ask me (not that anyone ever does).  I think I'm possibly being a bit harsh, the old dog (Batdog) just lies around and stinks.  The other one, the young dog, is the thing which makes my home life a total misery.  Bloody cute and hairy but too much energy and relentless?  FUCKING relentless.  All sodding night, running up and down, dropping toys on your lap, at your feet, on the floor, everywhere.  I call her The Kraken 'cause NO ONE wants to awaken The Kraken when it's asleep!  The Kraken has Border Collie in her so she's basically a stupid looking sheep dog.  When I have a shower the dog, one toy at a time, drops stuff into a small mountain at the cubicle door then disappears.  Well, you think she's disappeared, turns out she's in 'the position' all focused, alert and ready to chase the thing or herd it somewhere.  Last shower I had the dog had 'assumed the position' and must have been there for 40 minutes not moving, just waiting..........

So yeah, got home and felt more excited at having the place to myself than I should.  I notice a shovel by the front door but guessed the Tidiness Nazi had cleared the blocked drain or something.  Got through the door, grabbed my post, stripping off as I did and grabbed a handful of chocolates which I necked as I legged it up the stairs preparing to put my pyjamas on and get into bed for a crafty hour of watching tv undisturbed.  Lovely.  Unfortunately, I only got about 40 minutes of respite before the hairy, licky one burst into my room and jumped all over me (yeah, the stupid creature loves every hair on my head for some reason).  I heard the Tidiness Nazi downstairs.

"Did you put the shovel by the front door?" She yelled up.

"Erm, no.   I just got home from work.  I thought YOU had done something with the shovel."

"No it wasn't me"

(weird - someone has randomly put a shovel by our front door!)

A couple of minutes later the Nazi came into my room.  I managed to push the Kraken off my head/chest area where she'd decided to sit and smother me with her love.

"Y'know that shovel?"

"Yeah"

"It ain't our shovel.  In fact, some one's nicked our shovel from the side of the house and left us with the dirty one by the front door"

 "So, you're telling me that some random stranger, between the time you left the house at 2pm and when I got home at about 4.30pm, robbed us of our shovel and replaced it with THEIR OWN shovel?"

"Erm yeah!"

I love the randomness of today's weirdness but y'know what I love even more?  The shovel thief decided to alert us to the theft by leaving their own shovel right by our front door.  To be fair, if they'd put their shovel along the side of the house where ours was kept we wouldn't have bloody noticed until possibly next year.  The shovel thief (or shovel swapper) wanted us to know.  Wanted us to know that our perfectly good shovel had been coveted by someone with a slightly less perfectly good shovel.  All that was wrong with it was that it was a bit older than ours and was dirty. 

I guess I'll be laughing on the other side of my face when the weird shovel covet-er turns out to be a strange murderous stalker and whacks me over the head with the bleeder.  Hell, the side of the house where the shovel was kept has a massive shed there which is right under my bedroom window.  I'll not be laughing when there is a recreation of Leatherface waving his Texas Chainsaw around in the air (whilst balanced on my shed but with a shovel) outside my window. 

Still, I'll sleep through anything.

Then again, I know from experience that I have no survival skills in the wee hours of the morning.  When I was a child I had a bulletin board over my bed.  Atop this bulletin board I had a horseshoe which had come from one of my relative's horses.  Dunno what exactly happened but one morning at about 3am the horseshoe fell down and landed on my young sleeping head.  I seem to remember waking up with a start but just lying there waiting for the murderer's next blow.  How shit is that?  I'd like to think I'm a more pro-active potential murder victim nowadays and would at least grab at the weapon.  Then again, I sleep the sleep of the dead at the best of times, least of all when I'm actually being made dead.