See, it makes sense, because a square has four sides, and pants are for squares! Or not. The joke could just be that the speaker (Timmy Turner's dad, a pencil-pushing moron from Fairly Oddparents) isn't wearing any pants. And a lack of pants doesn't mean a lack of funny! See? It was a syntactical... nevermind.
Nevermind... never... land. I WANT TO SEE FINDING NEVERLAND! I tried explaining: But it's going to get Oscar nods, mum! "I don't want to see it, Amanda!" It has Kate Winslet, mum! "I don't know who that is, Amanda." Titanic! Eternal Sunshine! "Huh?" The one with Jim Carrey we saw. "I don't like Jim Carrey." Well, he's not in it! It's Johnny Depp! "Well, if it has Johnny Depp..." He has an accent! "I still don't want to see it." Ben, do you want to see it? "No." ARGH! My family cannot appreciate film. I want to see the lines between realism and surrealism, between the waking and the sleeping, between imagination and reality, all accomplished through clever dialogue, successful acting, and fantastic sequences and cinematography!
But, noooo. The man always slaps me down.
Uhmm, Columbia was supposed to reply to my application by now. *cough cough* Is it a good thing or a bad thing that I haven't yet heard from them? Were the letters sent out today, and we get them this week, or was the first really the acceptance date? Are they letting me down easily, by just not replying, or did they forget me? Are they considering me for regular decision because it arrived on the due date, instead of before? I'm so nervous, lost, and confused. I don't care whether or not I'm accepted, because God will send me where He wants me, but, geez, I'd like to know where that is! If it's Columbia, then I won't have to finish my mountain of applications. If it's not, I have a student film to start for NYU.
And I'm writing an essay that will knock the socks off of the Film Studies readers. I mean, it's good. It's good. But I can't post it here. Or there. Or anywhere. If you want to see it, I could send it to your house-address. That's the only way you're ever going to see it. Why? Because I'm not allowed to type half the things I want to anymore. Why? Spyware. Which is ironic... but I can't tell you why... Look, I'm being elusive and esoteric! And completely not drawing attention to myself at all! Look at meeee!
My feetsies are falling asleep(sies), I have to pee, and I'm contemplating how I can steal a classroom at the community college for ten to fifteen minutes, accompanied by five to ten friends and a camera. We could sneak in in broad daylight with ski-masks and silly-string. It would be sooo Tom Cruise! Wait... what? Well, whatever the case, I need a classroom. And I need a classroom now. For that student film... I... mentioned earlier.
If that's a no-go, I'm going to have to resort to plan B: a film about stereotypes. It'll be funny. And sad. And poignant. I'll prepare both scripts tonight. And then, if you want, I'll post them on here! So you can read them, love them, and love me even more than you already do! Actually, plan A doesn't have too many lines. All adlibbed. I can just post the idea another day. But, for now, it's a *secret*.
I still have to pee. And I'm cold. And I want to practise my cello. And read George Eliot. Well, her book, not her. Mirah's about to go stay with Hans' family. Poor Mirah. Not only that, but her thought seems to be paid so little attention to, instead the book reflects on the effect she has on others, so she's not even completely developed as Gwendolen's foil, we have to guess it for ourselves. The only thing more depressing than the thought that she was going to drown herself is the thought that we didn't see her thoughts. Huh? Well, it almost makes her seem flat, but, the well-read reader knows better.
Sorry. Digression. Pee! That's right, I have to pee! (Am I making you feel uncomfortable yet?)
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
-T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"