Orca -The Killer Whale

You guys, seriously, this movie is the best movie ever.

Like, there’s this guy (Richard Harris) who accidentally kills a baby orca, and then Mamma orca is super pissed, because come on, wouldn’t you be pissed if someone killed your baby?

Mamma orca had my vote from the start (sorry, Richard Harris.)

And then I kinda started narrating the movie to my BFF. It went on like this:

“The whale just destroyed half of random harbor town, literally, half of the town blew up, all thanks to the whale. Best movie ever. This whale is awesome.”

“The acting is super serious by the way. The movie really takes itself in earnest. I mean, an orca blew up half a town and everyone is like “Oh, you messed up with the mighty orca,” like yeah, it’s super normal for a whale to blow things up and chase you every time you’re near the water. Like, the whale knows you now, and you’re fucked. Whale is gonna blow you up. 

I have a new found respect for all actors in this movie.”

“Okay, the orca was destroying the entire town (kindda stupid to have a town balanced over some wooden pillars underwater, specially since the townspeople were not surprised by the orca’s badassery, which tells me this might have happened before.) Anyway, people told Richard Harris he had to get his shit together and go face the whale, but he didn’t, so the Orca sunk his freaking house and bit a woman’s leg off.”

“Okay, so Richard Harris was pissed because his friend lost her leg and decided to go hunt the whale (FINALLY). He left with this cute woman (who was not the same woman who lost her leg), his BFF, and an Indian guy. Not like Indian-Indian, but like Native American-Indian.”

“The whale just jumped over the boat and took the BFF with her. Now the whale is leading them to the arctic and there are icebergs and shit. This whale is so smart, it has to be a mutant or something. Actually, Native-American-guy said the whale was GOD INCARNATED. In these exact words. Native-American-guy is such a drama queen.”

“OMG, this woman is so cheap. She literally just said, “Come closer, I’ll warm you.” Like, Richard Harris was sad because his BFF died, and now he is gonna have sex to feel better.

“Okay, they didn’t have sex.”

“Did I mention Richard Harris looks at least 60 in this movie? I wish I can be hunting killer whales in the arctic when I’m sixty…no, I don’t, actually. Killer whales are adorable and I could never kill them. Also, whale is gonna blow you up.”

Best Poster Ever.

Jaws could learn a thing or two from this whale, just saying. I mean, it blew up half a town, destroyed Richard Harris’ house, bit a woman’s leg off, and now it smashed against an iceberg to bury Native-American-guy under huge chunks of ice. Shitty way to die in a killer whale movie, man. I mean, the whale should’ve had at least the decency to explode him.”

“The whale just sank the ship and now Richard Harris and pretty woman are running on icebergs. OMG, the whale just stranded Richard Harris on an iceberg.”

“This whale is a freaking genius.”

The whale killed Richard Harris by throwing him against an ice berg wall. It did not eat him, it did not drag him to the depths of the ocean, it did not explode him. No. It threw him against an iceberg and smashed his skull.

This whale is a bad-ass mother-fucker.”

The lesson we can all take from this? Sea World is royally fucked, people. You can mess with sharks and wild bears, but you do NOT MESS WITH AN ORCA.

PS: This whale should get a freaking Oscar with some 38 years delay, but it’s the tought that counts.

Letters to Myself – Part One

Dear Future Me,

This is you from the past. Obviously.

I hope you’re reading this as you sit by the pool in your mansion in Tuscany, while a shirtless Chris Hemsworth fans you with giant peacock plumes.

Oh, Future Me, I have so many questions…Has Facebook shared Myspace’s fate yet? Has Google taken over our souls, and most importantly, has Justin Bieber grown a beard?(Just kidding, we both know that one will never happen.)

By the way, no one has created a TV show about the adventures of a young Captain Jean-Luc Picard, have they?

Of course they haven’t.

jlp

Whyyyy?

Look, you need to write the series yourself, and it doesn’t matter that you don’t know how to write a script. It’s your problem, not mine. Unless… you have already done that, and this is why you have a mansion in Tuscany!

YES!

Waait. This means I should warn an earlier-future-version of myself, the one who decides to write about young Jean-Luc’s adventures in the first place. If she doesn’t write the script,  you’ll have no pool, no mansion, and no bare chested Chris Hemsworth, Future Me!

You should really start freaking out by now.

Anyway, I better go write to her and save both our asses.

You’re welcome.

xoxo,

Moi

PS: This post was inspired by Becky’s letters at HUMYN. You should really check Becky out, her writing is absolutely beautiful.

DIVA

Me and Husband were watching “Inglorious Basterds” in Blu-ray yes, bastards with “e”. Hey, don’t blame the messenger, man. I think Tarantino was trying to add a French flair to the word. Basteeerds. You could totally read a French accent in it.

No? Try again.

Right?

You see, hubby is a big Quentin Tarantino fan. There’s a weird irony in this, because husband is German, and “Inglorious Basterds” is all about killing Germans in gruesome ways. 

When confronted about this simple truth, husband claimed that, “The insides of a human being have no nationality.”

Let that sink in for a moment.

Anyway, as we watched the movie, he turned to me out of nowhere and said, “I really hate Diane Krueger in this role. Her character is supposed to be this big movie diva, but she just doesn’t deliver.”

To which I replied, “I agree with you, dear husband.”

I know, I’m such an ass-kisser.

“Thanks babe,” he continued. “Seriously, you’d make a waaaaay better diva then her.”

Emphasis on the “waaaaaay better diva” part, if you please.

Which brings us to today’s question:

Much obliged.

MEMORIES OF A TOMBOY

When I was eight, a friend from school invited me to a Halloween party. I was psyched. Brazil is known for Carnival, football and women, but definitely NOT Halloween parties, which is stupid if you ask me. Halloween is like Carnival with candy. I mean, seriously, Brazil, get a grip.

Anyway, I was running around and screaming like a crazy person, because the girl was quite popular and I was a total nerd. Please keep in mind those were the old days, when being a nerd was equal to having leprosy. 

Then I started freaking out. What costume should I choose?

Now, I was a really weird kid.

You know how most girls played with Barbies and My Little Ponies? I had Mutant Ninja Turtles’ action figures (Leonardo and Michelangelo actually), and I kindda had a crush on Leonardo. That’s how weird I was: I bordered awkwardness.

On a side note, I think my childhood must have been a super fun experience for my Mom. But let’s skip puberty, what do you say?

Okay, we both know I will address puberty at some point, but please nod and keep reading for the time being.

Anyway. While I dreamed of defending Gotham city from the scum that infested it, other girls prepared for motherhood with dolls that pooped and peed, which is so insane that I can’t even. I mean, how screwed-up is that? At some point in time, some dumb-ass sitting in a high chair thought that, “Girls need to be prepared for their one and only role in our society: being mothers. And mothers looooooove cleaning poop, right? Of course they do.”

You, sir, are an asshole.

But I digress.

So, I told Mom what I wanted for a costume.

“What about Poison Ivy?” she said. “You could go as Poison Ivy.”

I shook my head, arms crossed.

“Okay, I know: Batgirl. She’s so pretty, sweetheart.”

Head shake again.

“How about Catwoman? She’s powerful and strong.”

“Moooom,” I whined.

Mom breathed out in exasperation. “Fine.”

***

That night, the popular girl’s Mom heard the doorbell ring. When she opened the door, she came across a figure.

A symbol. A myth.

“Oh, and what are you supposed to be, dear?” she asked, bending over her knees.

I spread my bat wings wide and said in a low voice, “Lady, I’m your worst nightmare.”

I never returned to that house again. It might have been the fact that I propped myself on a table in the corner, and watched everyone from the shadows for the rest of the night.

On Perseverance

As long as you don’t give up, you haven’t lost.

I know, what a cliché #amiright? But hear me out for just a sec.

Perseverance is important as duck (see how I cleverly replaced the F for a D? If you haven’t, well,now you have.)

Anyway, I was thinking about Graham Moore’s Oscars’ speech, you, know, the “Stay weird, stay different” one. Which brought me back to Tim Allen’s one liner in Galaxy Quest (a great Star Trek parody by the way) where he says “Never  give up, never surrender.”

You know, a lot of people say those words, but they don’t really mean it, and I guess what I want to tell you tonight is to mean it. And eventually, whatever your goals are, they will happen. They might not develop just like you had envisioned them, but they will happen.

By now you’re all like, “Duck you, Madam W. That’s BS. You’ve got no idea what I’m going through.”

Weeeeell, I kind of do. Trust me.

We all think we’re so unique, right? And we are, but at the same time, we kind of aren’t.

See, every person on this Earth goes through shit in their lives (at some point or another), and here’s the trick: The levels of shit are infinite, and the majority of shit isn’t easy to relate to, or maybe it is, but that doesn’t matter. It’s still classified as shit because it’s shit to the person experiencing the shit. Makes sense?

Which basically means, “Respect other people’s battles” or as I like to call it, “Respect other people’s shit.” 

It’s very simple: We all have obstacles to surpass, each and every one of us. And we all have dreams and goals we want to accomplish.

We all want to change something in our lives, which is the reason why we’re not born with what we wanted or needed. We have to learn and evolve in order to reach that magical state we want to be in. Sometimes, those around us have to learn and evolve too. And we might not reach our goals today, or tomorrow, or even in our lifetime (gender and race equality anyone?). But eventually, we will.

As long as we stay true to ourselves and never give up.

Besides, it’s a really nice journey. Tough as hell, but totally worth it. I guess those of us who manage to reach old age come to realize that we set our goals to set our journey.

It’s all part of the “We’re fighting for something” cycle, and as in any cycle, once we reach our goals (if we are lucky enough), we start looking for a new purpose. Why? And this is where your mind gets blown:

In the end, we’re seeking journeys.

So never give up, never surrender. Stay true to yourself, and stay weird and stay different. Respect other people’s battles and make sure to enjoy the ride.

And always, always, always, have something to fight for.

If You Could Be Any Fictional Character, Who Would You Be?

It’s pretty simple: leave your answers on the comments below, explaining your choice. By the way, you can choose more than one character.

To make it fun, you can choose a character who isn’t much like you, and one who is closer to your actual personality. But you don’t have to. In the end, just follow your gut.

Rules:

A) You can’t choose Batman. It’s too obvious because everyone wants to be Batman.

B) You can’t answer, “My awesome self”  because one) you’d ruin the game, and two) that’s super corny.

So, I’ll start.

If you’ve been reading my blog, you probably know this already, but I’d definitely aspire to be like:

Captain Jean-Luc Picard from Star Trek: The Next Generation.

tumblr_static_picard-full-of-win1x8k2z_zpsb01d0b2eWhy?

1)Picard is an erudite, and a kick-ass captain, who respects his subordinates and knows how to drive them to their best potential.

2) Patrick Stewart.

3) Patrick, frocking Stewart, folks.

As for my second choice, that would be:

Rocket Racoon from Guardians of the Galaxy.

Guardians_Of_The_Galaxy_EST1940_comp_v176.1135Why?

1) I’m hairy and crazy as fuck.

2) That’s pretty much it.

What about you, my beloved minions? Which character would you choose?

WTF Screen Actors Guild Awards?

What the frocking F, SAG?

William H. Macy gets the award for Outstanding Male Performance in a Comedy Series? You know what a mocking bird, a Klingon, and Carrot Top have in common?

They’re all funnier than William H. Macy.

And how come Amy Potholer (auto-correct insisted on changing Poehler to Potholer, and I decided to let it, because c’mon, wouldn’t you?), didn’t get the Outstanding Performance by a Female in a Comedy Series? Are you on crack, SAG?

Seriously:

Are

You

On

Crack?

And in which planet is “Orange the New Black” funnier than “Brooklyn Nine-Nine? I’ll tell you: Pluto, that’s where. (Because it isn’t even a planet.)

And let’s not talk about Birdman. Let’s just not…

Okay, let’s: I hated it (totally respect you if you loved it, but I H.A.T.E.D. it.) It’s highly pretentious and deliberately artsy. It’s one of those movies for actors, made by actors, which is super boring (for me) because I ain’t one.

But let’s be fair: It wasn’t all that bad, SAG.

You nailed it with Eddie Redmayne, because he was just extraordinary as Stephen Hawking in “The Theory of Everything.” Seriously, I’m gonna go all Britney Spears if Eddie doesn’t get the Oscar for best male performance.

And you nailed it with Julianne Moore too, SAG. If Julianne Moore ever said, “Let’s do this, Madam_W.” I’d be all like, “Yesssssss. By the way, can Eddie Redmayne join us?”

You also nailed it with Viola Davis, and Kevin Spacey, SAG. And I guess that Patricia Arquette deserves some love, considering she played the same part for twelve years.

I guess that in the end, we’re even. Until next year.

PS: “The Grand Budapest Hotel” better get the best motion picture Oscar, because so far it has been utterly ignored this award season, and I can’t even.