I fucking love Halloween.  It may be my favourite holiday.  So WHY is it that I’m so painfully behind in my Halloween planning this year? (Read: haven’t started it)

In keeping with the Halloween spirit, I am working to the background home-office screening of Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd.  This may or may not have anything to do with one Mr. Rickman’s rendition of Pretty Women. Also, it’s just gorgeous to look at.  (As is he.  Mr. Rickman, that is.  Who, shamefully, didn’t make it to the afterparty for the film’s NYC premiere.  For shame, I say.  I was disappointed.)

Ah, Tim Burton.  Thank you!  I am so ready for this film.

This is the second Alice in Wonderland trailer I’m posting.  Yes, obviously, there are my lovelies in this film (thank you, Mr. Burton, for being dependably generous in bringing together my favourites).  Roll on, 5 March, 2010.

Speaking of premieres and screenings, I have procured a ticket to the NYC screening of New Moon.  I get it.  I’m a 30+ yr old dork in expensive shoes who squee’s and gets a little gay about sparkly, emo vampires who play piano.  The slagging I get IRL is cruel.  I tried to keep it in my pants for as long as humanly possible, but then, my gays were getting a hard time about reading the books, and me, Captain Rescuepants, had to step in and out myself.  So, I deal with the eyerolls of my ENTIRE local bar when the New Moon trailer is shown on TV as I go ninja fighter to get the remote from the bartender to turn up the volume.  I’ve accepted the scoffing and am ultimately ok with the situation.

So there was absolutely NO hesitancy at all in jumping to the online ticketing site a snarky little bird directed me to.  GOD BLESS YOU, Mr. TWITTERMAN.  Fuck all the haters, Twitter is my lifeline these days.  Both for work and, well, obsessing about nearly teenage man boys.  I will be in attendance with the ever lovely, just as clever in the flesh, original denizens of Twitardia.  I’ve pimped their site hard in the past, and am very happy to do so again today, as last night I had the distinct pleasure of spending the evening knocking back a couple few cocktails and housing the hors d’oeuvres at the Aiming Low event here in NYC.  It was a good time, and honestly brilliant to meet fellow lady bloggers.  Did you know that chick bloggers dig hot guys?  Who knew!?

Before you ask, yes, Jenny Jerkface is afuckingdorable. Honestly, sweet dress and shrug number, hot tights, and a redhead.  And SnarkierThanYou is tall and honestly gorgeous.  And nevermind they’re from NJ. They can do Manhattan just fine, unlike others (college roommate from sophomore year, I am looking at you.  I am looking at you and trying desperately not to vomit in my mouth, but I am looking at you).  I think it’s been determined that  we are going to have to do this again.  Possibly semi-regularly.  It is shocking how much we have in common.

There's this...

and….

then there's this...

and obviously this…

Pfffft, yeah, sure, it's Kristen Stewart who wants it, right? Whatever.

Because once upon a long while ago, he looked like this:

Why this film is applicable to this site goes without saying, ob……..(wait for it)…..viously.  THIS should be amazing visually (heh) and the story is actually a good one.  The casting directors are now on my Christmas card list, and I will think fondly of them in my evening prayers (or would if I still did that.  I may once this week just for Irene Lamb and Maureen Webb.  Thank you, ladies.)

I found a pic of Johnny's bum that I was considering putting here, but it made me feel dirty, like looking at someone I know. Weird, huh.

I think I’ve voiced my Johnny Depp stance before, but just in case I haven’t, or in case you’ve missed it, I LOVE the man.  I do not lust after him post Sweeney Todd Premiere.  Laymee and I attended the afterparty and he held the door for me as I was going out for a cigarette when I discovered, to my great dismay, that in heels, I am considerably taller than him.  He is SO fucking talented that I WANT to lust after him.  But height aside, I cannot.  I find him pretty.  In the way that I find one of my cousins pretty.  And that kind of eeks me.  So, Johnny, if you’re out there, let’s go for a pint.  Or a glass of wine.  It’s not you, it’s me.  I hope that we can be friends.  I think that you and I could have a very good, late night discussion about what we consider to be very important worldly things over a copious amount of alcohol.

Jude, you're lovely. And I don't even normally like blondes. Way to be hot.

Jude Law.  Hello, you.  I don’t know why, but I DO find myself attracted to you.  In a frantic last minute shopping trip some 4 or 5 years ago Christmas Eve or somewhere there abouts, I very nearly knocked you over while you were queuing in FAO Schwartz.  Sorry about that. I may have cursed at you.  You have children, I’m sure you understand.  Up to that point I really didn’t think much about you when I’d watch your films, but there was something about the way you saved the Steif frog/monkey/bear/whatever it was I was carrying from being trampled in the Christmas rush that just begged for me to fancy you, at least a little.  So I did.  And I do.

You have earned your place in The Hall of Nom, Heath. Cheers.

Heath Ledger, I’m not going to get sappy on you here, but damn, you were a fine bit of stuff.  And EXTRAORDINARILY talented.  I refuse to get maudlin, but hats off to you, babes.  Will go see whatever is released posthumously.  I am happy to throw my $12 into the kitty if only for you.

Dia duit ar maidin, Colin. How's about some coffee?

Ooooooooooh, Colin Farrell.  We’ve had a love/hate relationship haven’t we?  Cell Phone?  Or whatever that shit was?  ORLY?  Let’s not.  Gentle readers, let me give you a little insight on the Irish. We can be a nation of begrudgers.  Amongst ourselves, we will not acknowledge the successes of fellow countryman.  In Dublin, you could have half the cast of Fair City in the M&S on Grafton and the Dubs won’t bat an eyelash. (nor should they – I seriously saw that one chick…her name escapes me, but she’s a real smug bitch in interviews, anyway, but she was looking around waiting to be recognised.  My wouldbe MIL has seen the same.  Blech.)  Mention one of our own if you are NOT from Ireland, though, and boy, you have called the wrath of “what the fuck has your country REALLY contributed to the world of the arts ANYWAY” upon you so fast that you won’t even notice we’re going below the belt with attacks on your imperialistic histories and your arrogant attitudes without really having any true identities of your own – trust me, I’ve seen it happen.

Anyway, getting back on point, Colin, I’ve been very proud of you, of late.  You are blessed in the physical nom, that’s granted.  Dunno what it is, but I’ve always gone a little dreamy eyed at you.  Wouldn’t admit it, though, around all audiences, no sir.  I’m impressed with your more recent work and am hoping that you keep along this vein! Apparently, staying on the straight and narrow suits.  Also, should the rumours be true, congrats on your second bun in the oven? (Don’t mind me over here lusting over 2 time babydaddy…it’s what I do.  Men and babies kinda do it for me for some reason.  Blame my ovaries)

So here it is – the one bit of video I will let myself watch before this movie comes out on disc. I can think of five scenes just off the top of my head that I want to watch into the ground and I’m crafty enough to find this film out there somewhere, but I am restraining. If this montage doesn’t make you run right out to see this film, well then God, Jed, I don’t even want to know you.

When fanfiction meets safari, you get "Jungle Cullens" (please sing to the tune of "Jungle Boogie" and add the "ooooooh ah oooooo ah" after. (use of "get down get down" optional)

My own personal Twi-nom goes – Rob, Jackson, Peter, Kellan, Taylor, and the various boys from there.  If I feel compelled to let my mind wander, Jasper often finds himself lost in that big ‘ole house and wanders into an awkward situation with Edward and Bella.  My stories are always so much more detailed than Ms. Meyer’s.

Bitchface goes blonde again post-"The Runaways"

I believe this one is self-explanatory.  Kstew, for the uninitiated, is dubbed Bitchface, for what seems to me, obvious reasons, but for those who are a little more sensitive (and really why would they read this blog anyway) one actually has to HUNT for a picture where this girl looks happy/grateful for what she has/involved in what’s happening around her/or just not a bitch.  I often have to pull her actual name out of the dark recesses of my mind because I honestly cannot remember anything other than “Bitchface.”

And finally, the title track of today’s post:

I was going to think of an applicable caption, but we've titled this file "Jazz Hands" and I think we'll just leave it at that.

*nonsense images courtesy of Awkward Family Photos

Honestly, big auld back the fuck up to anyone who is going to bitch about Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland.  I am super sickeningly excited for this film for several reasons.  Let’s look at them here.

The one that really should go without saying is the Rickman.  I don’t care that he’s not going to have legs or that he will be CG’ed so that only his face will be there.  It WILL be his voice, and I WILL audibly squee because the caterpillar was always my favourite character.  Cut to Effbit’s 18th year.  Getting high in good friend’s room while painting a MASSIVE, will we say 8′ x 12′?, caterpillar and Alice on her bedroom wall.  Her parents were so much cooler than mine, obviously.  It was always my telephone doodle – to draw some incarnation of that scene – I did it in the styles of some of the greats – Van Gogh, Seurat, Gauguin…. I wrote a thesis on Lewis Carroll and his writings.  His collective works is the cornerstone for my “big girl books” – those gold-leafed, leather-bound ones.  So yes.  There is that as well – as a decidedly influential story that carried me from toddlerdom to my just post-adolescent life.  I still read it every so often, I’m not gonna lie to you.

Also, there is Helena Bonham Carter, on whom I have a most definite girl-crush.  EVERYTHING she’s ever done makes me want to BE her.  Silly.

I have a crush on Tim Burton.  He may not be an oil painting, ladies, but the man has a vision, and like it or lump it, it’s HIS and is practically trademarked.  Brilliance, girls, is sexy and a super turn on for me.

And Johnny.  Oh, Johnny.  You were a crush since Edward Scissorhands (I know.  My FIRST crush was Boy George, though.  Took multiple people to explain to me that he actually LIKED boys – I just couldn’t be convinced).  When I ran into you, very near literally, in real life, it turned out you were much more wee than I initially suspected.  Which was soul-crushing.  You were a MAN to me.  How could my measly 5′9″ stature (6′1″ in the shoes I was wearing) dwarf YOU, Johnny?  Sigh.  More to the point though, I love your work when you are on a project with Tim, dear Johnny, and am all butterflies in the tummy in anticipation.

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat, / How I wonder what you're at / Up above the world so high / Like a tea tray in the sky...

The rest of the cast – Michael Sheen (eeee!), Stephen Fry (hip hip!), Timothy Spall (I just want a pint with him!)….Christopher Lee, Crispin Glover…It’s very nearly too much.  And the cinematography looks amazing.  And the COSTUMES!  Good Christ.  The film, honestly, looks like someone just took everything that could be favouritest in my brain and said “Oi, Burton.  C’mere te me.  Do this here now”.  And he did.

But then, shall I never get any older than I am now? That'll be a comfort, one way -- never to be an old woman -- but then -- always to have lessons to learn!

So that is my little post for right now.  Will definitely be talking about this more in the future, as tomorrow is Comic Con, and for the first time I am feeling pangs of “what if I were there”.

And you've picked up a bit of an attitude, still curious and willing to learn, I hope.