The Toothy Truth

When I first noticed the trailer for the new film, "Let Me In" I thought, "Oh no, not another vampire romance. The kids in these films are getting younger and younger. What are they, twelve? Or am I just getting older???"

A snowy romance. This has all the makings of a preteen vampire romance.

Watching the trailer, however, I was soon pleasantly surprised. I mean, sure the trailer starts out in a small town vaguely reminiscent of Stephenie Meyer's books, but this hamlet soon proves to be vastly different from Cutlery, Washington. Sure, there are vampires, but they aren't the dominating cool kids at the local high school.

Instead, from what I've gleaned, little girl vampire's vampire father seems to enjoy strangling people in their cars while wearing a black garbage bag on his head to hide his identity. See for yourself:



The best part comes when little vampire girl (played by Chloe Moretz) proves that she is not a vegan softie and lures a guy into a storm drain only to viciously devour him. This is not altogether surprising, seeing as Chloe Moretz has a reputation for being a violent killer. Still, I give her props for not subsisting on synthetic blood alone, like the vampires in a certain romantic television series.

Also, little vampire girl is far creepier and less annoying than R Pattz.

Oh no, "Let Me In" does not look like another vampire love fantasy à la "Twilight" or "The Vampire Diaries." Perhaps we are witnessing the return to a realistic stance on vampires: they are a bloodsucking soulless menace. They are not made for taking baths with, or even having an abusive, obsessive relationship. "Let Me In" is most likely a cautionary tale about the danger of falling in love with a vampire, because more often than not, she will eat your heart.

I already know I like this movie. And I haven't even seen it yet.

Gangster Gospel

Hey, internet, what do you get when you cross 90s rap with Jesus?

No, this isn't a bad joke. Stop giving me that look. It's a serious query. Well, more like mildly serious rhetorical question.

Give up?

The Gospel of Marky Mark!

Gospel According to Marky Mark by jazzparade on Polyvore.com

In an entirely unusual stroke of genius, I (accompanied by my roomie and fearless adventure-buddy) have started a blog that is entirely the Gospel of Mark translated into 90s rap euphemisms, mostly inspired by the iconic classic "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch.

Right now, we've got the first eight verses posted, though there's more to come. Give us time. Translating from biblical to gangsta is just a little challenging for a bookish white girl.

If you did come expecting poor jokes though, I do have a few:

What do you call a psychic midget escaped from jail? A small medium at large!
What do you call a bison with no friends? A buffaloner!
What do you call a guy with no arms and no legs in a garden? Herb!

My Miley Epiphany

I HAVE COME TO A REVELATION IN MY LIFE.

This is not just any revelation. This is not a "Oh, I prefer peanut butter cup ice cream to fudge ripple ice cream," kind of revelation. This is not a "Gee, I think I'm in love with Jimmy," kind of revelation. No, this is much more important, because it is a Miley Cyrus revelation.

Up until now, all I have known was that I disliked Miley Cyrus, but why? That, I couldn't explain. Oh, sure, I could provide weak replies when queried by fanatic eight-year-olds as to why I wasn't nuts for their favorite Disney star. The usual:

• Watching the acting in Hannah Montana is punishment.
  
• Her wig change is preposterous. Is anyone even fooled by this? It's worse than Superman's glasses. Seriously.
• Miley is not a name.
• Her music is mediocre. With the exception of Party in the USA, which she wasn't even supposed to sing originally. Nor did she understand it.
• Lately, not only is her music mediocre, but she's stopped wearing clothes and I'm pretty sure she's trying to be the underage Gaga. It has not improved her music. (Still, I can respect a naked girl, but...)
  
• Her father's chin triangle scares me. Granted, this isn't her fault, but she has the power to do something about it.

But it wasn't until yesterday that the real reason for my emnity hit me while scrolling through the profile pics on her Facebook page: her lips. MILEY CYRUS HAS DUCK LIPS.

Even without clothes on, the same pout is undeniable. As if she's trying to be sexy, and just looks like a mallard.


Once this occurred to me, I was greatly relieved. No longer will I stay awake at night, wondering just what it is about the teen pop star that disturbs me so. And now I can enjoy Party in the USA in peace. Because, let's face it, that song is catchy.