Secondly, thanks to all the people who left condolences. I really appreciate it.
Just when you thought it was safe to open your inbox...
This is getting more awesomely awesome by the second.
The minute the gal walked into my office, I felt the temperature spike like the mercury was going to pop out of the thermometer.
They say there's something about motherhood that makes a woman more attractive, but I say it's widowhood. I don't know about the rest of you suckers out there, but seeing a pregnant belly never struck me as a great big neon "available" sign the way a little black dress and tearstained cheeks can do.
And this one, my friends, was all widow. And all legs. And those legs ended in pumps so shiny that, well, let's just say that what they say about black patent leather isn't entirely myth, why don't we?
But I'm getting off the subject. "Mr. Smokeless?" the lady asked, sniffing into a tissue that she held with nails lacquered so red that for a second I thought her nose was bleeding. "Mr. Smokeless, I have a problem, and they said you'd be the one to talk to. You can call me Fusie."
"Fusie?" I asked. I'd heard my share of slick nicknames, but this was a new one. "What's that short for, babe?"
And that dame gave me a look so cold I almost reached for my jacket. "Transfusion," she answered. "Transfusion Unrepentant."
I blinked. For once, somebody else had me beat on the name. "All right, Fusie," I agreed. Hell, there were worse nicknames you could get from Transfusion.
Also, if you like monster movies, The Host was awesomely awesome.
It wasn't a scary movie. I'll give it that. If you're into movies that can terrify you, this is not one. But monster movies, at least in the Asian vein, are not so much about instilling a sense of terror and fear as they are about pitting a person or people against something much bigger than themselves, and realizing the preposterousness of it, which The Host did perfectly.
The movie was funny-- hilarious, even, deliberately so-- most of the characters were depicted as pretty darn helpless against the monster. There were moments where every one of them does something truly badass, but a lot of their badassery failed, they made mistakes at vital moments, and they were really built up to do so in a way that made them feel exceptionally real. They acted ridiculous, comically ridiculous, but the beauty of it is that you realize-- or I realized, anyway, that that is very likely how ordinary people would act when confronted with such a horrible situation. The entire plot is spurred by man's stupidity.
And like all good Asian monster movies, the movie was relentlessly political. If Godzilla is the threat of nuclear attack, and Mothra is the threat against the global environment (I bet Al Gore loves Mothra), then the monster in The Host was the threat of the stupid fucking American government lying to the rest of the world. Not in a way where ordinary American people like me or even American military forces were implicated-- there is an American Marine character who is a victim-- but, well, yeah. I don't want to say any more because that will ruin the movie, but it made me feel the same sense of unrest and indignation that the whole WMD mess made me feel, that the President and the bullshit he is putting our country through now makes me feel.
And it did all that with a sense of humor.