Tag Archives: Harry Potter

A Letter to Alan Rickman

My esteemed Alan,

I would have referred to you as Al in my opening, since it feels as if I’ve known you since I was a wee thing, but you are English, and are much too refined for nicknames.

I wonder if you noticed that I refer to you in the present tense, despite the bitter fact that you left us one year ago today. I do so because, to me, you are very much alive on my movie shelf. I would like to thank you for that.

It’s true that you played an angel with no private parts in the movie Dogma, (a scene which, incidentally, is the only I remember of the entire movie) and a villain on several occasions, (Die Hard and Robin Hood); however, I will remember you most fondly as Colonel Brandon from Sense and Sensibility. It is really quite odd- the first time I watched you in that role, I despised you immensely.

I remember, I was at a friend’s for her birthday party when I was fifteen, when all of us decided to watch that film. Given my age at the time, it makes sense that I did not immediately appreciate your less-than-obvious good looks. It was a time when Freddie Prinze Jr. was a more apparent heartthrob…

It was a few years later when I again watched Sense and Sensibility when I realized how perfectly you pined for Kate Winslet’s character- I actually ended up detesting her after realizing how rude she was to Colonel Brandon. Still, I suppose I should be happy that you finally got the girl, even though I find myself a little jealous.

My jealousy of fictional characters was only compounded by your portrayal of Professor Snape in all the Harry Potter films. My hatred for Snape in the first six films was completely wiped away in the last, where you instantly forever and “always” became my favorite character. (Oh, to be loved as Lily was…)

You also happened to star in my favorite Christmas movie, Love Actually. Though I have nothing to  say about your performance because your character ended up being kind of a douche. I suppose you played the part well, since that was how we were supposed to feel about you?

I mustn’t forget your voice; that voice that resonates within my mind whenever you are mentioned- what am I supposed to do now when I finally write a screenplay that needs a man who’s voice can “talk a woman out of her knickers by just whispering her name, or scare the living shit out of children”?! Damn you and your pancreas, Alan!

I only jest, Mr. Rickman. I’m just upset that in a few short months I will be writing a similar letter to our dearly departed Prince. Although it’s nice to think that your rich, deep voice and his ridiculously high falsetto are blending in the far beyond.



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Interviews, Eyebrow Hairs, and That Harry Potter Kid

This post may just prove how truly random my thoughts are.

I had an interview yesterday. While I most definitely should be looking for a new job that I don’t hate, this interview was completely unsought. (Well, almost.) The day I got fired, I filled out and application at a chain restaurant that rhymes with Gherkins. Sadly, I never heard back from them. That is, until last week. While I am not exactly thrilled about staying in the restaurant business, the allure of possible mega-tips from working at a place that rhymes with Gherkins was enough to have me agree to an interview.

So there I was, an exceptional candidate for employment, a half hour early to my interview. The nice woman in the front offered me a seat and said it would be an expected few moments before my interviewer could get to me. I would like to mention here that customers eating their breakfasts were treated to a lovely viewing of my favored fuschia stillettos, which they showed their appreciation for by actually turning around in their chairs to watch the clicking of them on the newly-remodeled ceramic tiles. Anyhoo, my interview went as well as could be expected, considering that the man doing the hiring didn’t have a clue what hours or how many shifts he was hiring for. Stay tuned for the results…

Moving on.

There are many disgusting things in this world. Paying taxes, silent-but-deadly farts, and Taylor Swift are just a few things that come to mind. However, there is one thing that truly makes the bile rise in my throat.

Eyebrow hairs.

This may seem a bit dramatic, but let me explain.

I do not, in general, have an issue with eyebrow hairs that are connected to their designated facial spaces, unless they wander noticeably across the top of someone’s nose. But an eyebrow hair that has detatched itself and floated randomly to a non-above-the-eyes place? PUTRID! To find a lone eyebrow hair on my face or some other assorted spot is comparable to watching Marilyn Manson hump an unsuspecting fan’s head. The very thought brings goosebumps to my skin, and makes me nauseated enough that I must cease writing on the subject.

On to Harry Potter.

It is safe to say that most Americans and all English-born peeps have heard of and witnessed the phenomenon that is Harry Potter. The only ones that probably haven’t are those overly-religious zealots that believe magic is of the devil and perhaps non-TV-viewing hippies who are creating their own magic.

I admit that it took me until the fifth book in the series was out before I jumped onto the Harry Potter Bandwagon. But once I did, I was just as engrossed as all those people who throw Harry potter-themed costume parties. I went to midnight showings of the movies, and read the books in their entirety. There’s just one little problem, now.

Somewhere between Harry’s twelvth birthday and the murder of Sirius Black, I developed a disturbing crush on Harry Potter.

Or, more accurately, the boy who plays Harry Potter.

I know I’m not the only one, but it caught me a bit off-guard when, while watching Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, I found myself lusting after a teenaged Daniel Radcliffe.

This is not an unhealthy obsession like the one some of you may say I have on Chris Meloni. (Which reminds me, does anyone else think Chris could play Daniel’s father in a future unwritten movie by moi? They have the same eyes, I think.) All I can say is- damn! I wanna kiss a dorky-looking teenager. Luckily, he is of legal age, so if ever we two meet, my almost-pedophiliac ass will not be spending 7-10 years in the clink for statutory rape.

Have a nice day.


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