I don’t even know what this next one is from, or why hot men who have been beaten look even hotter (even when it might not be obvious that they’re saying “you should’ve seen the other guy”), unless it’s to imagine the inevitable scene where he whips ten shades of shit back to the punter who dared think of escaping unscathed. Yeaahhh, that’s probably it.

I am a stupid fan of the movie Love Actually. I say this with no shame, because the movie is funny and hokey and Christmas-y and British and heartening and there’s just really no fucking way I’d be able to not be a fan. If I’m ever feeling bad I can watch this movie and it will actually make me feel better. This is absurd and the fact of it makes me cringe in all my other 2000 parts, but it is a fact. I like to think that FutureMan will find this one of my more endearing qualities, and he’ll laugh quietly as I’m quivering with barely contained tearful joy at the little boy running all over the damn airport.

And here’s where I bring it all back around to the man in question (because I KNOW I’ve lost you now). Obviously he’s in his movie (and how hard it must’ve been for Emma Thompson to act brotherly toward one she would rather be jumping. I love Emma Thompson; she really is *that* good an actor). He’s beautiful, but I think my favorite parts of his character are the ones involving him and his stepson and usually the dads don’t do it for me. Men at a dad age or beyond, fuck yes. But dads themselves? Not really. They aren’t specifically unattractive, but they’re not specifically attractive either, when in dad mode. But I want to jump Liam Neeson when he calls his stepson a wee motherless mongrel, and I want to jump him when he recounts to the boy how he and Claudia Schiffer would have to have sex in every room of the house including his. I’m sure there’s something not entirely healthy in these admissions, but fuck it. The film is not searching for any deep dark human secrets and neither am I. I’m just enjoying the Christmas candy, and my GOD there’s a lot of it there. [Effbit, we HAVE to do an entire post just on LA. It. Must. Happen]

So, to summarize (oh god, I almost spelled this with two S’s) (this makes me inordinently happy).

The man looks good with his clothes on.

The man looks good with his clothes off.

The man just looks fucking GOOD.

And Emma Thompson knows it, and respects it. She’s part of our club (though of course if she ever were, we would absolutely have jackets made up celebrating the fact) (Emma, kidding, we’d be totally chill, I swear).

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.