I could've done without the porn

Firstly, I asked a friend to get me the German DVD of Hammer Horror's The Vampire Lovers. My reason? Well, there's a rather nifty commentary I wish to listen to, which isn't on my current edition. It sucks -- of course, I believe in equal DVD extras for everybody. Especially if it's something rather interesting in relation to the original text . . .

This morning however, when I thought my DVD had arrived and ripped off the packaging, I was greeted with this:

What the fuck!?

That's right. No, it's not Ingrid Pitt sauntering around in a nightie, sadly. It's just porn. I mean, I guess it's a lovely surprise an' all, but it wasn't what I was in the mood for. . . Emm . . . I dunno, I guess I can't use it for a potential review. Can I? Maybe?

Le sigh. Well, I guess it's easy to get the two titles confused. They both have the words "vampire" and "lover(s)" in the title. Okay, it's easy to get confused if you're my mate Chris. Sorry, Chris, next time I'll shop online with you. We'll get something nice and simple; a film that doesn't have a similar-sounding porno equivalent. Unless you did it on purpose, you sly bastard.

Since today was my "Lazy Day", (man, I don't get enough of those) I played some Guitar Hero, did some shopping and watched Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds. I love that film so much, even if it's been a while since I'd last seen it. I mean, it's one of those films I'd ask my Grandmother about (she's a cool ol' lady, who loves the classic horror films, and rather knowledgeable herself), and she'd describe everything in detail. In short, she fed my early horror cravings. Thanks, Gran. Hopefully, I'll write a review of The Birds soon.

Also, how fuckin' cool is Repo! The Genetic Opera? Yes, it's bad, but I've only heard of this horror/sci-fi/musical hybrid recently. I'm already hooked on numerous songs, and have since purchased the soundtrack from iTunes. Goodness knows when I'll actually be granted the opportunity to watch this fabulous little film. Oh, and how I love Anthony Head. Yes, I'll admit it, I had a little crush when he was Giles in Buffy. Uhuh, Librarians can be sexy too. Well, I think so.

Em. Anyway, aside from Librarians and horror movies, I do actually love musicals, particularly if they're blended with another genre -- The Rocky Horror Picture Show being a prime example. Oh, how I love that film so much -- it's utterly ridiculous that I haven't seen it on stage yet. I'd totally dress up, and encourage everyone else to do like wise. And no, I'm not exactly stoked about the planned MTV Rocky Horror remake, but I'll no doubt watch it, thus contradicting myself. But, I digress. Here's my favourite song from the up-coming Repo! A Genetic Opera, Zydrate Anatomy;

For further interesting details, I encourage you to take a gander at the wonderful (and 100% official!) Repo! Website. Their Myspace is equal parts wonderful. So go and show your support! Hopefully, the film can ensure a wider run at cinemas. If not, well, I'll go for Plan B; hire a fuckin' projector and rent out my town hall. Okay, so I'm not entirely sure if we even have a town hall here, but screw it, I'll find somewhere! Heck, I'll ship out all the excess furniture, and use my sitting room if need be. It'll be cool.

I love Threadless

I love Threadless.

And Threadless loves horror.

Quite a wonderful combination, especially for me, the ever-geeky horror fan. Yes, I love my film-themed t-shirts (the more geeky/obscure, the better). But, they're normally designed for dudes, so they end up draped around my knees . . . well, aside from the ones which read "Vampire Bitch" and "Fucking Classy". Yes, I am a fucking classy vampire bitch. And I also make my Mother proud.

Rue Morgue, the leading publication for horror entertainment, has teamed up with Threadless.com for a design challenge. The concept is my favourite and yours: horror. That's right, so it'll be pretty darn easy. Yes, so easy that I won't be taking part. If you've got a passion for creating, and a groovy idea for a horror t-shirt, why not submit your idea? Your horrific design could win you a bunch of cool stuff like:

• Money
• Horror memorabilia
• A feature in Rue Morgue
• A "limited edition skate deck from Alkaline Trio"
• A 70s vintage Fender bass guitar
• And probably loads more of em . . . exciting stuffs!

But that all depends, can you topple this mighty T'?

I fuckin' hope so. The closing date is December the 1st, folks.

Urgh . . .

So . . .

I live in a tiny, teensy-weensy little town in the middle of Scotland. Everything closes at like, 10.00ish, aside from a few bars (and we know I get ID’d for everything). Therefore it is typically the bore. And the weather is also crap: it's cold, it's dark and it's windy -- not suitable for a girl with gorgeous locks of hair such as I. Oh, no! But my night isn't all doom and gloom: I've had to move about like a truck-load of furniture (I have biceps of steal), and I've uncovered some old VHS and a stack of DVDs which I'd forgotten about . . . Bad me. But good in the sense that I now have a bunch of awesome crap to watch! I mean, Hostel Part II . . . I think that one was okay, wasn't it? Anyway, I know it's so 2007, but I plan on writing something regarding the "Torture Porn" subgenre pretty soon. Even though I'm not a particular fan: my interest stems from the exploitation flicks of the 70s and early 80s (which I am a fan of -- well, the history at the very least), and torture porn seems to regurgitate some of those ideas/conventions, if pushing the barrier even more so.

Films that I have watched recently are: The Wicker Man (1973) and Scar 3D (2007). One was bloody wonderful, and one was . . . well, rather shite. Can you guess which one, hmmm? I hope you said The Wicker Man was bloody wonderful 'cause then you'd be right. That reminds me, I was flicking through a DVD magazine, and The Wicker Man was listed as one of the "All-time Greatest Horror DVDs" or something, and it highlighted Britt Ekland's dance as one of the stand-out scenes. And if you want to know why -- or more importantly, want to check out a classic horror movie, then go get The Wicker Man. That's right! Get it right now! Just remember it's the 1973 version, not that 2006 pap with Nicholas Cage . . . shudder.

National Novel Writing Month/ Happy Halloween!

Okay, so it transpires that November is National Novel Writing Month. And I'd never even heard of this glorious Internet-event before. Sure, I've heard of tosh like "Three Girls and a Cup" (Yes, no hyperlinkage. I may be a bore, but I'm keeping it clean and relatively shit free), and a bunch of other stuff. But no NNWM.

So, this year, I'm gonna attempt it. Yeah, I've got a gazillion other things I should be working on, but I really, really want to do this, so it's okay.

The goal is to write a 175 page novel (50, 000 words roughly), finishing before midnight on November 30th. The site also praises the crap you write -- and with a first draft, rest assured, you shall write crap. By the bucketful. But, as I previously stated, the crap is praised, and you get to join hands with other NNWM-ers in unity, knowing you've persevered. You also get a groovy certificate. Thus you need no other incentive. So, do it! Be my NNWM pal!

Also, hope everyone had a nice Halloween! Here's a couple of pictures from my second night dressed up as some skanky vamp (I'm the gimp on the right). Had an awesome night. First night we went on some ghost tour up near our local canal (that seems to be where our history is located . . . or something), and I had to walk around the woods drunk, with my white dressed tucked into my knee-high boots. Otherwise I'd be tripping around the joint. Not pretty or ladylike.

My vampire teeth look crappish here, but they were actually VERY cool. And sturdy. I know because I once bit Chris with them on -- he totally insisted, and I was like; "No . . . no! Okay!" Also, you can't see my tattoos/scratch marks, but they were also cool. My friend (to the left) was dressed as Sweeny Todd, but most folk thought he was a Butler. On account of this, I clicked my fingers and told him to get me a nice virgin. He wasn't impressed.

I want . . .

I want an Elvira statue. Yes, I do. I'm not really the kinda girl that's into collecting figurines (I know, shock horror . . .), but I really, really like this. Does this desire justify an entire blog post? Eh, feck yes! The statue pleases me, but sadly, the price-tag does not




Also, why is this the only decent close-up available? I'm not a demanding person, but I think we can do better than the standard cleavage shots. Especially if I'm gonna fork over my hard-earned cash. On a related note, I found £10 on the street today. I felt really guilty for picking it up, and started chatting to some old woman nearby, and asked if she'd seen anyone who'd dropped it. She told me to pocket it. That's right. She told me to pocket it: "There's nuthing ye can do, hen". I was torn, I tell you: I normally give money I find to charity, but alas there was none nearby (I know cause I searched), so I took the old woman's advice. There endeth my tale.

Blog posts have benefits

Yeah, so on Thursday I was drowning my sorrows . . .

No, I didn't flunk a class (this time/yet), but it was my birthday. Yup, a whole other year older, and just as fuckin' stupid. And no, I'm not telling you my birthday -- and don't let the Myspace fool ya. I'm as stealthy as a ninja. A rather drunken ninja. Okay, maybe just drunken? Anyway, I'm a lady; I'm not divulging such details. However, at this rate, if I'm lucky, I'll end up as the slightly eccentric member of this bunch:

If I'm not lucky, then I'll end up like this:

Or slightly worse (heck, at least I'll have good teeth):

Anyway, the best part about birthdays is the presents -- eh, I mean the family together-ness. Obviously. Remember when I made this post, like back in the day? Well, I got what I asked for. Which just goes to show you: writing blogs does have it's perks. And if you have a lack of dignity/self respect (like I do), you too can get what you ask *cough* beg *cough* for.

Oh, and I also got the Hammer Horror boxset, which is just uber amazing. A perfect introduction to old-school British horror. If yer interested . . .

Dodgy DVDs

Urgh. I am an utter tit.

I spent most of today around Edinburgh/Glasgow, dragging poor and unfortunate Chris around any DVD shop I could find. Granted, he has piss-poor directional skills, and I didn't have a map, but I reckon we found every shop worthy of a second glance. Of course we were looking for films of a “certain sub-genre”", and what did we find? Not much would be putting it mildly.

Perhaps I'm somewhat deluded, but I would have thought that 70s lesbian vampire movies would be pretty popular, no? But then again, I probably think there should be an entire section-- no, fuck that! An entire shop erected in dedication. And then that would pave the way for more movies, and a stream of remakes! Not that I'd be entirely stoked about the remakes, but whatever.

Ah, but our journey wasn't entirely all doom an' gloom; we did find Vampyros Lesbos (1970), the relatively well-known Jess Franco film (If you can deem Jess Franco "well-known"). Of course, some bugger had stolen my bag and henceforth my ID (like, a year ago . . .), and I have yet to get another form of acceptable identification . . . or something. I mean, I get ID'd for everything, and being halted by the till-person for wanting to purchase a film entitled "Vampyros Lesbos" wouldn't be my crowning moment of glory. It's annoying: when I look back at films, and young, good-looking girls like myself are in trouble, often getting stopped by some stern old guy, they fall upon the: "Oh, it's for my Grandma, Sir! Please, pity my young and reckless ways!" Heck, I couldn't even do that in this situation. Plus, it was woman till-server/person. So, naturally, Chris got ushered into buying it.

PS: I've just successfully buggered my laptop. Being the genius that I am, I have managed to yank the enter button off the keyboard (I was trying to remove dust . . .) with the use of a novelty cock nail file. That's quite an important button, isn't it? Dammit.

Ignore the cartoon-woman's cheery smile; cock nail files cause nothing but trouble. Just like the real thing. Ha.