Love Times Machine Guns.

Yep, nearly the same outfit as yesterday, but I'm running a semi-reality racket here, folks.  And besides, I've improved. Everything thrifted, but the shoes are Miz Mooz.

This week is smacking me up with its busy-ness.  Not least of which, I've contracted to write 4 papers for someone on varied classic movies and it's not as much of a cake walk as I imagined.  Because I'm a flippant child of the present day, I find watching the classics to be arduous work.  I'll never get my eyeful of great old, Hollywood costumes; nor will I ever tire of repeating lines back to the screen in a transcontinental accent.  But the conversations themselves are pretty much un-followable.  So... winding, and... innuendo-ed.  My understanding of most scenes is pretty much suspended until someone gets slapped or chloroformed.  He bad.  She good.  Me like hat.

So it came as a pleasure to me to overhear the following short conversation today between two, energetic young men:

Fred:  I still haven't seen Where The Wild Things Are. 

Harry:  Eh, it's alright.

Fred:  Do you think I would like it?

Harry:  I dunno, are you a hipster?

Fred:  Well, sure, I guess.

Harry:  Then you would probably love it "times machine guns".

I nearly convulsed with laughter.  It's so... ironic, expressive, timely!  Love times machine guns.  Well, classic movies may not be exactly my thing, but as long as I'm invested as I am in finishing this project of mine, I might just learn to like them...times tommy guns.

Yours,

Elissa.