Underage British Boys and other sassy thoughts

Of course I refer to only one Underage British Boy here, and that is Harry Potter himself, Daniel Radcliffe. I'm sorry! I know it's totally creepy of me! But the boy is sexy. He got sexy in the last Harry Potter movie, and he's looking sexier still in all the promo shots from the 4th. I mean, if they didn't want me to think this way, why did they release a photo of him lying in bed with rumpled sheets, looking at his Triwizard clue???

Shut up, Tristen.

Other items of interest:

1) Why do they call it "news" when the details of the Pope's living will are divulged and we find he wants to be on life support to the bitter end? Did this surprise anyone? Shouldn't "news" actually be... something new, something surprising even?

2) And on that note, may Terri Schiavo rest in peace. And may this be the last word I offer up on the subject.

3) How is it that the songs of Travis get so stuck in my head? I mean, I just have to think the name "Travis," and a song pops in and doesn't leave for, like, two days.

4) Cameron Crowe rocks. This is the man who brought the world "Joe Lies;" Jeff Spicoli; the "Tiny Dancer" scene in Almost Famous; Paul Giamatti's big break and whopping one line in Singles; Jeremy Piven's kickass grocery store clerk in the same movie; Jerry Maguire's best use of a Bruce Springsteen song in a movie ever (oh, and Bob Dylan at the end, too); the only un-annoying Tom Cruise performances ever... I could go on for days.

5) Diet Pepsi. Mmm delicious.

6) There has never been a cooler toy than the iPod. If you can think of one, go ahead and tell me, but I doubt you'll be able to convince me.

7) Personality 85%, looks 15% -- does that sound about right, ladies??

8) My chair at work makes my booty hurt just around the tailbone, so when I get home and sit on these chairs, it feels like I have some crazy bruise or something. My work chair sucks.

9) Okay, my sister got to hear about this at length yesterday, but as it still annoys me 24 hours later, here goes: When reading a Chick Lit book, one expects it to follow formula properly, and not deviate; we don't buy or read these books to be wildly surprised, like when we read about the Pope's living will in the so-called news. We read these books because they have heroines who are slightly like us, and a friend or two similar to our own, and guys who are adorable but not perfect like in a Silhouette romance or a Judith McNaught novel (well, I guess that's a bit iffy, but if you read this crap like I do, you know what I mean). What is NOT supposed to happen is the book throwing you a curveball at page 200, like in Anna Maxted's Running In Heels (a title, incidentally, which has nothing to do with the book). Suddenly, after 200 pages of thinking this is a story about a young woman who's always been "the good girl" and who's going to veer off that path by seeing a bit of a louse, and partying a bit too much, and then near the end she'll see the error of her ways and hook up with the man who's good for her.

So you'll have to imagine my horror and annoyance when, around about page 200 (200!!), the main character's best friend is suddenly having a Come-to-Jesus with her about how she's practically starving herself, and she'd like her to get healthy because she can't stand to see her like this and blah blah blah. And in 200 pages, nary a HINT that this was coming. I mean, yes, Main Character visits the health club TWICE in the first 200 pages. She works at a ballet company and is slightly creeped out by the anorexic dancers, yet also a bit fascinated. There is nothing to hint that she doesn't eat or looks too thin or what have you. And then, after this abrupt about-face, the rest of the book (200 more pages!) is all the details of her obsessing over every morsel, and working out too much, and her feeling ugly, and so on and so forth. There is a seemingly random plot line about Pilates, which just seems like an obsession maybe the writer was having at time of writing and so decided to spread the gospel in her work. And yes, Main Character does get the good, attractive, perfect for her guy at the end. But it's utter rubbish to spring an eating disorder on one's reader 200 pages in.

It's practically the equivalent of JK Rowling having Lord Voldemort go good on us in Book 7. In future, Anna Maxted, I'd like a few more hints.

10) Guys ARE weird. And slightly clueless. And yet oddly lovable just the same.

Go on -- weigh in if you dare!!

xoxoxoxox
Shannon