Dear My Bitches,
First of all, this post is not hardcore in the least. Actually, it's rather lame. See, I'm knee-deep -- scratch that, I'm fucking xyphoid process-deep in editing Ludlow and I haven't much time to do much of anything except stare at the computer, wondering if what I'm doing is any good. I'll be finished with it early next week, and then... MUA HA HA.
Speak of mua ha ha, here's another screen cap. Oh how provocative.
My point is, I'm totally super big-time sorry that things have been quiet and lame around here, but before you know it I'll be back to watching movies and trying to think of pithy comments just for you. Things won't really heat up- if they ever...you know, actually "heat up"- until it's time for the next Film Club installment, when Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror ushers in AN ENTIRE WEEK of foreign zombie action. Well, foreign to me and my fellow Americans, anyway.
Speaking of zombies and me actually writing stuff, my AMC column this week is all about the many zombie flavors there are available- enough to fetidly fill a Baskin-Robbins.
I'm not sure that entirely makes sense, but anyway.
You can always be my fake cyber-pal if I don't blog enough here to keep up with your absolutely maddening demands. I mean, how would you know that I wanted some pickles today unless you follow me on Twitter? These are the issues that impact my life.