cogito ergo procrastinato*

Lazy Sundays are an art form, best typified by that amazing SNL skit of a few years ago (which has become so embedded in the pop culture subsection of my mind that I actually can’t say Chronicles of Narnia without (a) saying Chronic-what?-cles, and (b) start laughing). (Man, I miss SNL).

Today was a very, very lazy Sunday; the sole aim of the day was procrastination (sorry, 30th September is how far away? A whole nine days you say? That’s fiiiiiine…)

I got up late.

I had coffee and watched The Warriors (I dressed up as a Warrior for Halloween ’05, when I was living in NY. Had never actually seen the film, but there was a massive billboard a couple blocks away from my offices for the videogame of it, and the image had lodged itself in my mind, clearly, as I couldn’t think of a single other thing to dress up as. At the big Halloween ball we went to in Williamsburg some very drunk guy cornered me at the bar, grabbed me by the shoulders and slurred “No one will ever understand how amazing your outfit is.” Which I took to mean he approved of it.)

I went back upstairs to get dressed… but got back into bed instead.

Got up again about half an hour later, feeling guilty that I was wasting the day so badly.

Back downstairs, completely ignored Ratatouille that someone had put on, internetted for a good long while. Joined twitter.com after months of hovering around all, all in the name of procrastination (it’s great, join! we can all follow each other procrastinating! It’s like the most fun part of Facebook – the status update bar - without all the other Facebook crap).

Put Shaun of the Dead on (see below).

Paused Shaun of the Dead to walk round to open-all-hours pharmacy. Pharmacist not in, came home, resumed Shaun of the Dead.

Paused Shaun of the Dead again an hour later, walked to corner shop, bought poppadoms, went back to pharmacy, pharmacist in, picked up prescription. Came back, watched last part of movie.

Had dinner.

Internetted, made playlists, generally mooched around.

Watched repeats of No Heroics (has potential) and Samantha Who? (quite funny, could do without the weird writing bits).

Made a cup of tea.

Read Neverwhere.

Decided it was too late to try and salvage the day by doing something productive, so went to bed.

An art form. As you see.

*Yes, there's a large chance this actually isn't Latin.

Hot Fuzz

Where to start, where to start...

Spaced... the best British-made sitcom, always funny, ever rewatchable, still quoted [“Mine’s a pint of the black stuff.” “You can’t drink a pint of Bovril!”], inspiration of a ridiculous running joke Sam and I had at uni about being followed by squirrels [there are a lot of squirrels in Nottingham], and occasionally filmed in my old local, the Corrib in Queens Park, NW London [and if you've never seen it before you can apparently catch most episodes here.]

Shaun of the Dead... which, when watched on US telly and they edit out half the swearing, loses a certain je ne sais quoi, but otherwise … well, same as above. My sister still gets the giggles any time someone says “exacerbate” to her:

Liz: It's just that with Ed here, it's no wonder I always bring my flatmates out, and then that only exacerbates things.
Shaun: What you mean?
Liz: Well, you guys hardly get on, do you?
Shaun: No... what does 'exacerbate' mean?

And now Hot Fuzz. I was lucky enough to get an invite to the cast and crew screening this morning [thank you Working Title] introduced by none other than Messers Pegg, Frost & Wright, and Nira Park – and it was so worth getting up at 8 on a Sunday morning for. Seeing as it’s not released for another three or four weeks, I’m not sure how much I should [am allowed to…] say, but it’s utterly brilliant. The casting is just genius [Edward Woodward! Timothy Dalton! And Paddy Considine still looking hott even with his '70s pornstar 'tache!] There's gore galore. And it references one of the best films ever, Point Break (ahhh what I wouldn't have done for Keanu Reeves when I was 13 or 14).

And you know the best part about it all? That something so original and so well-written is homegrown.

With these guys around, perhaps there's hope for British film after all.