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The reviews for “Tomb Raider” are starting to come in… and they’re horrendous. “‘Tomb Raider’ is going to be one of the worst movies of the summer, if not the year. It is an abomination. It is unbelievably, laughably bad. There are not words that can accurately describe just how pathetically awful it is.” And that’s from a film fanboy geek, who should be this movie’s target audience. Ouch. Here’s another one that’s just as negative. A quote: “The bubble breasts aren’t the only thing ‘fake’ in the film. Angelina Jolie’s ‘English’ accent makes Mike Myers, as Austin Powers, come off as a blessed Thespian.” Hee hee!

I can’t believe it. So not only is Bush dissing England, France, and Germany by visiting smaller (read: “easier”) European countries, but he went and messed up the Spanish Prime Minister’s name? That might sound like a pretty easy mistake to make, except that “Aznar” is only five letters long, Bush is supposed to speak Spanish, and he was speaking on Spanish television right before meeting with the guy. I’m embarrassed. He should’ve followed Salon’s tips more closely.

“Chocka with innuendo, Tim Tam takes the biscuit.” I love Australians. This article is all about a popular chocolate cookie (they call ’em “biscuits”) and sex. Yes, cookies and sex. Snookums brought back a bag of Tim Tams when we went to Australia last March. They’re awesome. It’s sort of like a Keebler fudge graham; you know, with a sweet crunchy square covered in chocolate. Apparently one in every three cookies consumed Down Under is a Tim Tam. Can you believe that? They’ve got tons of varieties and related merchandise, including the “Tim Tam Jim Jams pyjamas (the majority of Tim Tams are consumed at night while watching TV).” I want some of those! I had no idea that the marketing was so sex-related, but I can verify the existence of the “Tim Tam Suck”, which Snookums demonstrated for me. You bite off both ends of the cookie and then dunk it in your coffee, “sucking the liquid through the light biscuit texture, quickly drawing it into the mouth where the biscuit explodes.” Mmmm, good.

No more Bozo? That’s so sad! I can remember watching Bozo every morning at the babysitter’s when I was, like, four. Seriously, my greatest wish in the world at that time was to be selected for the Grand Prize Game. The kids they picked were always so terrible! I knew I would’ve won the bike. (I came across the Grand Prize Game at an arcade once as a grown-up and embarrassed everyone in my group by insisting to play. I won though, dammit.)
 
I especially liked the quote by Billy Corgan about Bozo’s influence on kids in the Midwest. And what about Cookie? They write an entire article on Bozo, but don’t mention the most famous clown sidekick other than Sideshow Bob? *sniff* Awww, I’ll miss you, Cookie.

Ugh. The Natural History Museum wants Britons to report any sightings of “mole crickets”. I know I should feel upset that they’re becoming extinct, but I really, really dislike creepy crawlies. If I come across one, the scientists will probably know by the scream.

Weirdness. I’m on a new project so I just got moved back to the other office today. As my old desk was taken, I had to take the remaining empty spot… right next to Snookums. Which basically means that we’ll be spending 24 hours a day within four feet of each other. A bit much? What do you think?

Great. This is not the type of thing I wanna hear two days after landing at Heathrow myself. And why did they make a point of mentioning that the trainee was female? Grrrr.

Amazon has finally listed The Wind Done Gone for sale. (Amazon UK doesn’t seem to have it, so I went ahead and ponied up for international shipping.) Huh. I thought it wasn’t supposed to be available for a few more weeks. Anyhoo, take a look at that cover. They’re really playing up the “It’s a parody, so the Mitchell estate can bite us!” angle, aren’t they? I’m exceedingly curious to see how this turns out. I’ll keep you posted.

Parents have no sense of irony. I wore my “goddess” shirt in front of my mother last week and she didn’t complain. Of course, I’m not 14 anymore either. But still, we were figuring out our “porn star names” on the school bus in eighth grade, and I don’t know anybody from my class that went on to make X-rated films.
 
Oh, and I really don’t appreciate the way this article goes on and on about the horrors of teenage girls wearing promiscuous slogans, but barely mentions the fact that just as many boys wear this stuff too. *PUKE* I suppose boys are just crude and expected to get off on this stuff, while little girls are like tiny delicate flowers that must be protected? No wonder these chicks get a kick out of shirts that read “Hottie” and “Good Girl Gone Bad.” I would too.

You’re probably thinking, “Okay, Kris. You’ve been back from vacation for 24 hours already. Where is the 17-page photologue with in-depth commentary that we’ve come to expect?” Wellll… it’s coming. Unfortunately I was a lazyass and didn’t take many pictures. My sister, however, did, and she’s scanning them all in for me to use. So fear not, the Great Narrative of My Life will continue very soon.