OMG! This film was amazing. Talk about a slow burn. It's a great story, and it definitely won't be to everyone's taste, but I really liked it. It's true, the less you know about it the better. I'd suggest probably not reading this if you are going to watch it, because I'm going to have to spoiler a little bit to even talk about it. So don't read this- go and watch it! I mean it; don't read this if you're gonna watch it.
STOP.
It starts slow, but it's really tense when it kicks off about 20 minutes in. I felt tense for about half an hour during the middle. The dynamic once it becomes clear what's happening is really freaky and intriguing and incredibly sad. A lot is unsaid.
This film is for anyone who's ever been lied to on the internet. And I have. I went out with a bloke once who was courting four other girls at the same time on a messageboard I frequented. And one of them was in Australia! More fool me.
The main guy in this film, Nev, is such a dude, charming, beautiful, and ultimately extremely kind and understanding. He had every right to go completely insane. This story could have ended very, very differently.
It must have hurt him to be so cool about everything. He got totally done over. I liked the bit where he read out the 'sexy' texts. He had balls to do that.
I wonder how Angela felt when they turned up on her doorstep? She must have shit herself. I don't blame her for falling in love with him, I think I've fell in love with him a bit. Those teeth and brown eyes were just a killer combination, and I even liked his hairy chest when just got out of bed. It must have hurt her to not be what he wanted her to be. The internet is cruel; charm isn't awarded unless you got something to back it up.
Ultimately, this film tells a sad story, of a sad woman who just wanted a bit of escape. Who wouldn't want to live in a fantasy world? And she was definitely creative; in more ways than one. And she was still lying to his face whilst confessing! I think she was just a bit mental; but who could blame her?
You think her partner Vince would be more pissed off about the whole situation, really. He took it all pretty well, too.
I cried at the end, obv. I'll be your facebook friend, Nev. I'm 24, five foot eight with long dark hair, I'm a keen gymnast and I play the clarinet. I think we're gonna get on great.
Showing posts with label Facebook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Facebook. Show all posts
Friday, 21 January 2011
Thursday, 8 October 2009
Rant Blog: No TV so why not get sexually harrassed playing scrabble?
Wednesday night is clearly the death of TV; with no soaps to fill the hole, I am left floundering, twiddling my thumbs. So I turn to downloading some dreadful Placebo b-sides (I love you, Brian) and playing Facebook Scrabble.
If you're a girl; just don't play a man. Every. single. time. Where you from? How old are you? What you doing tonight? How does Scrabble and sex go together? It DOESN'T!!!
I actually vowed not to play men any more, but sometimes those pics move fast and you click in the wrong one, so I give the poor bloke a chance. Big mistake. 99% of the time if I play a woman they won't speak. If it's a man, they always do. They just have to try their luck.
Tonight's guy was holding a baby, seems harmless enough. Silly me.
Do you have a boyfriend? Yes. Then he says he has a partner and a baby. Good, I think, no sex chat here. Then; 'do you live with him/ you look about 18/ are you alone tonight?' He fired so many questions at me! Who asks for that when they play Scrabble? But I feel rude when I turn the chat off and someone is just being friendly and not creepy.
This is a man holding his child in his profile pic. Then I said 'this isn't the site for that' and that was the end of the game.
It's not actually FAIR that women have to put up with that, when just wanting to play a stupid game. There's enough sites out there for that stuff; they aint that hard to find. There's even specialist ones for cheating bastards; so go join one of them, you creepy fucker.
No more men! It shouldn't be this way. I wish men knew just how much low level harrassment women have to put up with daily. Just comments and looks and bloody patronising, sleazy bullshit, and it's not fair, because they don't have to put up with it, we don't encroach on their personal space in this insidious way.
Thanks, I needed to get this off my chest! The silly part is, on Friday when you want to have a drink and could live without the soaps, they force hours of them onto you.
If you're a girl; just don't play a man. Every. single. time. Where you from? How old are you? What you doing tonight? How does Scrabble and sex go together? It DOESN'T!!!
I actually vowed not to play men any more, but sometimes those pics move fast and you click in the wrong one, so I give the poor bloke a chance. Big mistake. 99% of the time if I play a woman they won't speak. If it's a man, they always do. They just have to try their luck.
Tonight's guy was holding a baby, seems harmless enough. Silly me.
Do you have a boyfriend? Yes. Then he says he has a partner and a baby. Good, I think, no sex chat here. Then; 'do you live with him/ you look about 18/ are you alone tonight?' He fired so many questions at me! Who asks for that when they play Scrabble? But I feel rude when I turn the chat off and someone is just being friendly and not creepy.
This is a man holding his child in his profile pic. Then I said 'this isn't the site for that' and that was the end of the game.
It's not actually FAIR that women have to put up with that, when just wanting to play a stupid game. There's enough sites out there for that stuff; they aint that hard to find. There's even specialist ones for cheating bastards; so go join one of them, you creepy fucker.
No more men! It shouldn't be this way. I wish men knew just how much low level harrassment women have to put up with daily. Just comments and looks and bloody patronising, sleazy bullshit, and it's not fair, because they don't have to put up with it, we don't encroach on their personal space in this insidious way.
Thanks, I needed to get this off my chest! The silly part is, on Friday when you want to have a drink and could live without the soaps, they force hours of them onto you.
Sunday, 2 September 2007
The Death of MySpace/ The Unstoppable Facebook: Destroyer of Pasts
'Social networking' is a misnomer if ever there was one. Sitting on your arse is a lot more accurate. MySpace was a gift from God when I first found it, not having to phone your friends and men who were actually interested in the same things as you (even if they were only 16, haha). What a rarity. Once you turned off the band requests and realised that you were too old to talk to teenagers no matter how good their music taste, it was perfect. I heard a fair bit of new music and even befriended Charlie Brooker. You can't knock that. I enjoyed writing a blog on there, until I realised it was demented ramblings. Then, like everything else, the shine wears off.
I resisted Facebook for a LONG time, mainly because of the name, and it seemed more mainstream and 'townie' than MySpace. But then of course, curiosity strikes, and you have a look. I hated the fact you had to befriend someone to see their page at first (I just want to look at people from my past, not actually speak to them) but then I realised it was quite good that people couldn't spy on ME. I already had to make my myspace profile private due to a friend going postal on me.
So now I've been on Facebook a couple of months, and something strange is happening. My past is being re-written. All those things you put in a box and sink, are suddenly floating to the surface. Nothing major at all (yet!): just ex-boyfriends that still look like teenage boys in your head now turning up bald, or worse, married. Your mates from school that you couldn't be arsed to stay in touch with now have wrinkles, or children. (Actually that's not true, I've only been in touch with one girl from school and she still looks like the teenager she was- bitch!) People you used to go to university with suddenly turn up having better jobs than you. It's outrageous. It's like a school reunion, except it doesn't stop at school, and it infiltrates your history, the very events that defined you become blurred. You wonder why you even fell out with that person, or if time can really heal everything. And it feels like it can, because everyone is just a square on a page, a face in a box and you can keep them there, you don't have to touch them, or let them see the reality of you.
With MySpace I made friends with strangers, and it took work to find actual people you knew, but on Facebook you go via your real name. Now people I work with (including my boss!) are there on the same page as the boy I went out with when I was 9, and someone who's heart I broke (well, probably not) and old friends and new friends who may not like each other, and family and it's just a head-fuck and a mess.
It's good to keep these parts of your life separate. It's good to keep the past in the past. Yet it's morbidly fascinating not to. I want to know everything about everyone. And to pretend that I'm doing well, of course.
The strangest bit is looking through the friends of that boy or girl you went to school with, and recognising loads of their friends. What do you do if they request to be your friend? You were never friends with them. But you feel a strange affection for them because they are from your home town and you remember playing rounders with them or going to the same birthday party as them once when you were 10. Suddenly you are looking at your home town through rose-tinted sunglasses when actually, it's just a fucking dump full of tossers.
Yes. Facebook is confusing. But it does have Scrabulous. So I have to keep going back, and trying to remember how the past really was, not this sanitised version of it. It's a struggle to keep everything in boxes. Except Scrabulous.
I resisted Facebook for a LONG time, mainly because of the name, and it seemed more mainstream and 'townie' than MySpace. But then of course, curiosity strikes, and you have a look. I hated the fact you had to befriend someone to see their page at first (I just want to look at people from my past, not actually speak to them) but then I realised it was quite good that people couldn't spy on ME. I already had to make my myspace profile private due to a friend going postal on me.
So now I've been on Facebook a couple of months, and something strange is happening. My past is being re-written. All those things you put in a box and sink, are suddenly floating to the surface. Nothing major at all (yet!): just ex-boyfriends that still look like teenage boys in your head now turning up bald, or worse, married. Your mates from school that you couldn't be arsed to stay in touch with now have wrinkles, or children. (Actually that's not true, I've only been in touch with one girl from school and she still looks like the teenager she was- bitch!) People you used to go to university with suddenly turn up having better jobs than you. It's outrageous. It's like a school reunion, except it doesn't stop at school, and it infiltrates your history, the very events that defined you become blurred. You wonder why you even fell out with that person, or if time can really heal everything. And it feels like it can, because everyone is just a square on a page, a face in a box and you can keep them there, you don't have to touch them, or let them see the reality of you.
With MySpace I made friends with strangers, and it took work to find actual people you knew, but on Facebook you go via your real name. Now people I work with (including my boss!) are there on the same page as the boy I went out with when I was 9, and someone who's heart I broke (well, probably not) and old friends and new friends who may not like each other, and family and it's just a head-fuck and a mess.
It's good to keep these parts of your life separate. It's good to keep the past in the past. Yet it's morbidly fascinating not to. I want to know everything about everyone. And to pretend that I'm doing well, of course.
The strangest bit is looking through the friends of that boy or girl you went to school with, and recognising loads of their friends. What do you do if they request to be your friend? You were never friends with them. But you feel a strange affection for them because they are from your home town and you remember playing rounders with them or going to the same birthday party as them once when you were 10. Suddenly you are looking at your home town through rose-tinted sunglasses when actually, it's just a fucking dump full of tossers.
Yes. Facebook is confusing. But it does have Scrabulous. So I have to keep going back, and trying to remember how the past really was, not this sanitised version of it. It's a struggle to keep everything in boxes. Except Scrabulous.
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