Welcome to the layer cake, Harry

Two reasons why I like L4yer Cak3:

One: The only major romance scene in the film is cut short by punching the guy in the stomach and bundling him into a sack. I'm building a distaste towards any scene of kissing or canoodling these days, which have the effect of driving my movie experience into a brick wall.

Two: It has Dumbledore using the f-word.

On a very much related note, here is a flow chart of the plot. I was quite proud of how concise I got it, though it's a single, giant spoiler.

What is this emotion you call Wimbledon?

It's quite endearing to see so many grown men and women so excited by a electronically-closing roof, though I couldn't help but feel the tennis players were getting a little overshadowed by it (fucking puns). Poor Dinara Safina spent a few hours beating an absolute man-mountain of a Frenchwoman, only to be asked what she felt about the new roof around five times.

Nobody seemed to care that she'd won, or that Orlando Bloom had clearly snuck into the ladies' singles tournament disguised as a woman.

Grrrrrr

That being said, the trivial, unrelated aspects of sports events are handy for giving people like me a chance to appear as though we know something about sport, which I don't. TBH I've mostly just been watching the ball boys.

There's some really bad ball boys, especially outside of center court. This one guy charged about court like Marcus Fenix and kept fumbling the ball, stopping, and charging back the other way. It was painful to watch.

So yeah... That's everything I know about tennis.

One Million Years B.C. drinking game

Drink every time:
- A name is said
- A spear or rock completely fails to make contact with it's intended target
- Someone falls down a hole

Newsworthy

It seems strange that I stopped blogging because I'd nothing left to say and then start again to talk about a 10-year-old beating me at Mario kart.

But he beats me at Wii Fit too. It's darn serious.

A black hole of fun

The youth of today and their computer games...

One of the children that my mum childminds has gotten into Mario Kart Wii something serious, and it's sickening to watch.

He's very good. Some would say too good. He'd got gold in absolutely everything, save the mirror cup. But he plays it with shocking ignorance of Mario's long history, the lore of the mushroom kingdom through which he's driving, or the vast catalogue of characters.

In fact, it's not even clear why he plays it, as he doesn't show any noticeable emotion whether he wins or loses. When I lose playing against a normal human being, I can take solace in the belief that the average level of happiness in the world has been kept more or less the same by my opponent's happy vicroey. Not so against this soulless robot. You can feel the mean world happiness level sink just a little bit every time he wins.

And certainly he's too young to enjoy the delights of Peach's upskirt bloomer-shots (admittedly rare in the fast-paced world of kart racing).

He just plays it because he was built and sent back to the year 2009 to play it.