Harry Potter

Today (it was midnight and all) I honoured the end of an era. I went to see Harry Potter 7 part 2. Not only that, I saw it in 3D.
This post will consist of three parts: The end of an era; Why are two dimensions insufficient; Six hours is a long time. I'm refraining from commenting on the plot and all that, because I don't entirely want to be that bitch who is constantly mind-raping you with spoilers. Regardless, I'm pretty darn sure that even if you haven't read the book (which you really ought to), you still know the rudiments of it.

Part the First - The End of an Era.

When HP1 came out, so very long ago, I was but a wee lass of seven [for the record, I use the word 'lass' in the Scots sense of small lady; not in the Adidas clad, going on Mainies and staunching sense]. Now, as the series ends, I am eighteen, having spent a goodly portion of my leisure time either reading the books (over and over), watching the movies or, most enjoyably, cracking up at the atrocious Fanfiction. Because there are some absolute shockers out there.

There were two movie series which defined my age group: the Toy Story trilogy (which I hear is about to do a Douglas Adams and release a fourth) and of course Harry Potter. In the same way I grew up alongside Andy, I grew up alongside Harry and his magical friends. I swooned over Robert Pattinson's pre-Edwardian hotness; I drooled over the 'bad boys' (Tom Felton, Young Tom Riddle and Young Snape); I generally questioned why Ginny, coming from such a lovely family, ended up being such a ho-bag.

But I digress. The point I'm trying to elucidate is the fact that we are at a turning point. The acoutrements of our childhood (like Harry Potter) are finished, to be replaced by whatever is going to define our age bracket now (I'm hoping True Blood). We're getting old.

Part the Second - Why Are Two Dimensions No Longer Sufficient?

It's no longer enough to merely watch a film or TV show. Now we have to have stuff flying at us and gettin' all up in our bidness as it were. I'm probably sounding like the grumpy old conservative that I am (I mean I certainly look the part - I'm wearing a blazer and pearls) but why can't we return to the good old days when the dividing line between entertainment and life was just that. A line. Because entertainment, in 2D was just a linear construct whereas real life was a spatial construct involving specific densities and volumetric displacements and all sorts of other fun geo-physical funsies.

Wow. That was a pretty darn nerdy rant.

Part the Third - Why One Really Ought to Avail Oneself of Internet Banking Facilities When Said Facilities Present Themselves.

I didn't. As a result, in order to be assured of tickets for the midnight showing, I arrived at Westfield Miranda at around 1800 and by 1830 I had four tickets to the midnight showing of HP7pt2, along with special edition Harry Potter glasses shaped 3D glasses.

By 1910 I was joined by Monica and Koby, and eventually (2040) we were joined by Meg - Monica's cousin, and a new addition to my internet exploits. There was nothing to do (and I really do mean nothing), and so we hung out like cool kids, judging the profusion of lads which seemed to be everywhere. We then got incredibly bored so we went on some mainies and staunched some bitchez.

I lie. We didn't.

We went for churros. Because we're hardcore like that.

By about 2130 we were hanging out outside the cinema. Which gradually filled with Shire dwellers, including lots of hipster boys who gave Mon and Koby 'lady boners' (their terminology, not mine), but just weren't my type. Because we all know what my type is...

Anyway. As the Shiries appeared in their varying levels of costuming (there was one girl who looked uncannily like HBC as Bellatrix. Snaps to her), we played Would You Rather. Because we had nothing better to do. Most of it was reasonably middle of the road, with the exception of two which were absolutely inspired. Were I still writing The Week (which I'm not because my life is too boring), they would most definitely be in there.

1) Monica to myself:
Would you rather One Time At Band Camp a Tuba, or verb of choice a goat.

2) Monica and myself to Koby:
Would you rather a dead Nick Jonas with a goat watching (N.B.: this goat has Riley's face), or that same goat with Nick Jonas watching.

As you can see, goats were for some reason quite a prevalent theme. Go figure.

My point in all this is to pre-order your tickets. Because that was six hours I'm never getting back.

The Week Part I

Last week's Week will be slightly late, although as a bit of a sample, I direct you to the MMB blog which I write.

The Week

There isn't much by way of the funnies this week due to the fact that I've been knitting and writing parody songs for AUJS (Australian Union of Jewish Students - it's a uni thing that Sarah's directing) Revue 2010: The Shulshank Rejewsion.

No, I jest. The likelihood of it being called that is minimal at best. Other name options are:
Jewno (Juno)
Jews (Jaws)
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Jew (guess which movie we got that idea from)
No Country for Old Jews
Gentlemen Prefer Jews
The Jews Brothers (Blues Brothers)
etc. Basically if there's a Jew pun to be made, we've tried it.

And onto The Week!!!

We were in Latin, as we are wont to be when something funny happens. I had asked Sir when the song Mambo Number 5 had come out.
Sir: It would have been the late nineties. I remember it playing at my year 12 formal.
Soap: (in an amazed tone) You had formals back then??
Sir: (in that bitterly ironic tone he tends to use a lot around us) Yes, Sophia. We wore our best loincloths and draped the hide of a freshly slaughtered deer over our backs.
I laughed for a solid five minutes.

Later that lesson, Sophia put her headband over her eyes, turned to Elsa and whispered the following:
Soap: Elsa, I'm a cyborg.
She assumed none of us could hear her. Unfortunately for her, she whispered it at the exact moment our class was completely silent. So sir responded thus:
Sir: (stage whisper) Sophia, we can hear you.

And then on friday in LEX...
Sir: I can't afford to give you wine, you boozehound.
(That was the gist of a Horace poem about Virgil... Well my class found it funny.)

The Week

Returning to last week's discussion of raunch in metaphysical poetry, our distinguished teacher had this to say, much to our horror...
Sir: A bit of raunch is an important part of any consenting adult relationship.
Me: Can I quote you on that one, Sir?
Sir: I'd rather you didn't.

Today was Harry Potter dress up day (long story there). I dressed up as Professor Umbridge. Sarah dressed up as a basilisk using a sock puppet with eyes stuck on.

For the record, Mr Mo looks like an older, scarless version of Harry Potter with nicer glasses.

At the beginning of class, Sarah stuck the puppet in Sir's face. He hissed at it. He then told us that it was our problem we didn't speak parseltongue.

About 10 minutes later we were divided into pairs and each put on a computer in order to do some practice exam collaboration. Monica was in the classroom because she enjoys our company and secretly regrets dropping extension.

Sarah and I were on pair, Sophia and Elsa were the other. We were seated at computers when it was noted that the class had been inadvertently segregated: Monica (Philipino), Sophia (Vietnamese) and Elsa (Chinese) were all at one end of the room; Sir (at least 4th generation Australian), Sarah (She lives in the Shire. That says something about her lineage) and I (European ancestors is about as close as I can get) were on the other.

I am unfortunately unable to document what Mr Mo said next, because it is impossible not to be misconstrued. But it was hilarious.

The Week US Edition

I've been promising this for a while, and here it is:

Intercom on the Caltrain to San Jose on Monday 2 August: Attention all Caltrain passengers. If you have a monthly pass for July, it expires at noon on the first business day of the next month. Which is today. So it expired about 10 minutes ago.

You definitely don't get that on Cityrail.

The Week (old school style)

As of today, I am back at school (cue much rejoicing). I'm not going to comment on the fact that according to my new timetable, I now have two doubles of maths on a friday.

And so, The Week!!!

We were in latin (as I inadvertantly am whenever something funny happens) and Mr Mo was a touch... different.
Me: Sir, are you high on cough medication?
Sir: Yes.
Me: Really?
Sir: No.
Me: Would you like me to put that on the record?
Sir: Maybe.

Later, we were in Latin, and John Donne's Busy Old Fool came up. Apparently one of the english teachers had read it to his class and had been rather... enthusiastic in doing so.
Sir was defending the validity of the poem, as he is wont to do.
Sir: It's a bit raunchy. Raunchy is good.
Me: Not when it's coming from you, sir.
Sir: That's not what my wife says.
At which point we all cracked up.

And then we got onto the topic of Cicero and Catullus' mutual burnign hatred.
Mr Mo tried to describe their reasons for hating each other. Apparently Cicero was a conservative, whereas Catullus...wasn't.
Sir: Cicero would have been a John Howard voter. Catullus would have voted for the Greens.
Me: Could we take it one step further and say that he'd vote for the HEMP party? [Help End Marijuana Prohibition]
Soap & Sarah: Sex party!
Sir: I think he might have had a few sex parties himself.

The conversation then took it's logical course... to Harry Potter.
Basically, Catullus had put the word patronus in his poem regardign Cicero. In this case we were to take patronus to mean lawyer as opposed to patron.
Sir: Expecto Patronum - I'm waiting for a lawyer.

And that's from one day of school. I'll be back next friday with a week worth of The Week.

And because I'm in the running to win Curmudgeon Of The Week (scroll down until you get to the pertinent post), here's a photo of me, because my evil *insert numerous multilingual expletives of great magnitude and ferocity* dial-up sucks five pronged demon wangs, and won't let me attach things to emails.

I Go To Be In America

Just like a Sondheim [and Bernstein] song that seems adorable and catchy the first few times you hear it, and after that becomes the bane of your existence because it's permanently entrenched in your head on a neverending loop... I'm going to the US tomorrow.

Don't ask how the extended metaphor relates. I don't even know.

But yeah. I'll be in San Jose CA for a week. Tagging along to a conference for some international organisation of...wait for it...commerce students.

At least I get to go (thankyou frequent flier system).

So yeah. I may or may not be able to access the internet during the next week, but I will be jotting down anything remarkable that happens and I'll post it eventually. Who knows. I might even get enough material to do The Week: US Edition.

But somehow I doubt it.

At least I have Cicero, Virgil, Catullus and Horace to keep me company.

The Week

Having returned to the loving fold of school, I'm back to writing The week.

Hells mother-expletiving yeah.

There was a thing involving Mentos wrappers on the fans. Long story there. I was absent at teh time. Anyway, the next day, when I was in attendance...
Soap: You're really fun on a sugar high [Sir]. We should get more mentos. Sorry, mento. There's only one.
Me: Wouldn't it be mentus?
Soap: Don't even go there.
Sir: Mentus is greek. It would be mentoi.

Sarah: Lustfuel.
She meant lustful. We think.

Horace: A girl, not of your sort, has captured the young man Telephus whom you seek, rich and lustful [this is where the lustfuel comes in], and she holds him chained in pleasant fetters.
Soap: Is he handcuffed.
Sir: *Pinches the bridge of his nose*

Sir [regarding the chariot of the sun, as part of a longish segue about Apollo]: The chariot of the sun is pulled by horses of flaming...
Me: Fire?

Sir: Cicero has two Cs. Ninja has two Ns. Perhaps it's a clever pseudonym.
Sarah: Adela has two As.
Me: I'm not a ninja *Shifty eyes*
Sir: Kafka has two As.
Me: I'm definitely not Kafka.

Sir invoked the name of Chuck Norris.
Soap: WHat would Chuck Norris do?
Me: What would Chuck Norris do... Probably roundhouse kick you, sir. In the face.

I know it's not much, but since I only have 6 hours of class time per week this term, it's all I can do.