Your Face (kandigurl) wrote,
Your Face

A Surprizing Revelation: I don't really like blood!

Okay, I've pretty much decided that I don't want to see Sweeny Todd, at least not on the big screen. Sorry, Megan, but I know me, and I have a hard time enjoying movies where I have to spend the entire time looking away in fear. I also have a hard time with movies that include excessive death, no matter how good the story is. The only movie I've gotten over it with was Dogma, and that was after a year of not knowing how I felt about it.

The clincher, though, was hanging out with Anne last night. She told me straight up, I don't want to see this movie. The woman knows my weak constitution. She was there when I walked out of Sin City because I couldn't handle all the gore there, so I'm going to trust her judgment. If I do see it, it's going to be on a tiny screen in a well-lit room with easy access to an exit and computer to take my mind off of things if it gets too much for me. I know Jere will buy it for the house eventually, so I'm not worried about that.

So, yes! I'd rather not sit in fear for two hours even though I'm sure Johnny Depp is a wonderful singer. My neck gets all sore and hurty with sympathetic pain just thinking about watching it. And that's that!

aeroflation: Passing through the air in balloons.

(The story is cute, read it!)

As George Washington watched, the first New World flight took place on this date in 1793. He and other dignitaries stood speechless as Frenchman Jean Pierre Blanchard quietly ascended in the gondola of his hot-air balloon from the seclusion of Philadelphia's Walnut Street Prison. Nearly ten years had elapsed since the Montgolfier brothers first accomplished this in Paris, and the president and his colleagues were especially pleased that the French daredevil had agreed to demonstrate this amazing feat in America. Being unable to predict where the winds would carry the "greatest of aeronauts," Washington himself signed a passport for him and wished him a bon voyage. But his unpublicized journey lasted just forty-six minutes, taking the aerial pioneer across the Delaware River to the outskirts of Woodbury, New Jersey. There Blanchard, who spoke little English, brandished his ad hoc passport and a bottle of spiritous liquor when approached by puzzled locals, who marveled at his unexpected arrival and conveyed him back to Philadelphia, America's capital.

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