"when i'm good, i'm very good. but when i'm bad, i'm better."

For a multitude of reasons, not the least of which are:

1) She made Cary Grant look less than suave and completely confident (Fine, it was before he was super famous, it still counts damnit)

2) She always looked like a chandelier.

3) She always talked like a loan shark.

4) She pretty much wrote all her material - for a woman in the film industry in 1933 (hell, NOW) that's pretty fucking badass.

5) Why am I making this list? She's Mae friggin' West, it's self-explanatory.



And just because I am easily amused...by myself. I know, unfortunate, but it's going to come in handy when they put me in that padded room:


Me:  on a sort of unrelated note

i've decided i'm going to be mae west when i grow up

Theresa:  i support this

except

she was white

i think

being a citizen doesnt make that okay, sushi

Me:  listen

i will be your dirty brown mae west and you will LIKE it

goddamnit 

Theresa:  oooh baby

that just gave me shivers

Me:  damn straight

now fetch me my slippers

oh rats, wrong movie. i just turned into rex harrison instead

way to ruin the one good vampire movie

So there's this movie, right? No, not that one. This one:




And it is perfect. And beautiful. And terrifying. And just all around a really fucking great movie.

It also happens to be Swedish, so there are subtitles involved. No big, right?

Oh, but wait. Then there's this:



Um, someone please explain to me what the fuck that's supposed to be because those do not look like the same movie to me. That looks like a Twilight movie for the pre-school crowd. Only with better acting.

All because some people are too lazy to you know, read. Words are hard, I get it, but this is just unnecessary, you Hollywood bums.

P.S. - I did not embed the second video at a smaller size because I think the trailer/movie is inferior (but it so is) - I'm just technologically incompetent.

an open letter to the second act of any script ever

Dear Act II,
You suck. Possibly you suck worse than the dentist. Okay, that's not true, even you're not that bad. But the fact remains--you are the bane of my very existence.

I have a first act. I have a third act. What do you mean, telling me I need to have something linking the two together where the plot actually unfolds? Ludicrous.

And even when I have you mapped out in my head, you're still a tricky little fucker. Playing mind games with me as to where my scenes should actually go, confusing me as to how I'm going to fit everything in a manner that is cohesive and not total shit.

Second act, you're the goddamn devil.

But please be nice to me and cooperate so that I can some day hope to not live in a shoebox outside a Starbucks with a sign that says 'will write for coffee. or a cracker.'

Love always and never,
Sushi

rainbows and things

Remember how I mentioned I'm consistently distracted by shiny things?

Well. That's what you get for reading things coming from a girl who has the attention span of a gnat.

I digress. I have some legitimate excuses, some lazy ones. Moving, work, writing (I swear!), and watching all the movies I can possibly get my hands on while my netflix account still loves me.

Planning several trips, in and out of the country. More on that later. It's all very hush-hush, you know. It's a wonder I don't work for the government, ain't it?

Well. I'll write when I have something interesting to say. Clearly not now. Right now there are many things on the internet way more interesting. Such as:




I finally identify with that "I'll have what she's having" line in When Harry Met Sally. Also, I wish this dude was my friend. My secret friend, cause it's likely he might scare people in public. Or himself. Either way.