There are certain truths of which I am completely convinced.
There is something inherently creepy about ice cream vans. Before anyone says it, it's got nothing to do with the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, they're just bloody creepy.
Tea in a transparent receptacle looks all kinds of wrong. I only want to see the top circle of tea that's visible when it's in a proper mug. Or bucket. Whatever. Just don't show me the sides, m'kay? Observe:
And most importantly, whoever decided to show ads from telly in the CINEMA, before and at this stage, practically instead of trailers has surely sold their soul to the devil and has a spikey uncomfortable armchair reserved for them in some inner circle of Hell.
It was this particular thought that was occupying my mind while at the cinema with the Bear waiting for Iron Man 2 to start (which is brilliant by the way, what with the giant fighting robots, Robert Downey Ridebag, and Scarleh in a leather catsuit. She'll fuel many a wank worldwide after that). Whilst quietly muttering about how we'll get to see feck all trailers now with all these infernal ads, a certain preview appeared onscreen that actually made me wish there was another ad for a plastic surgery clinic on instead.
The trailer in question was for the latest Twilight shite-fest, Eclipse or Moon or whatever the Jaysus it's called, I can't remember because I was too busy plotting to set fire to Stephenie Meyer for inflicting her ridiculous series on the world. The Stylebitches hit the nail on the head when they captioned this photo of Kristen Stewart with "Looking like she’d BATE the head offa ya."
State of it like. Back when the first Twilight film came out, the Bear and I watched the first 20 minutes of it and switched it off, declaring it utter shite. We actually showed those first 20 minutes to his then-housemate, just so she could see how laughably awful it was. She agreed. We then made the fatal error of showing it to Lili, who FOR SOME REASON liked it and we ended up having to watch the entire unholy mess. I actually can't remember a single thing about it, as I must have mentally erased the whole sorry affair from memory instantaneously. Anyway, all of this brings me to The Oatmeal. My new favourite website, as it perfectly encapsulates my feelings about this particular heap of tits in the fantastic How Twilight Works.
On a completely unrelated note, they also have brilliant bit entitled How Everything Goes To Hell During A Zombie Apocalypse. Which I came across on the very day that I joined a Facebook page called "I've seriously thought about what to do if there was a Zombie Apocalypse".
I'm off to stockpile canned food and hatchets, just in case.