Like in the Movies

[Kommander]

Klimt's "The Kiss"

Yeah, that always gets me in the mood too.

Oh, wait: Klimt's The Kiss

Not so much, that one.

 

[Lonemagpie]

I do use the keyboard instead of the mouse, though that's because I use a laptop that doesn't have a mouse...

When I wear one of my long leather coats it does tend to billow out like in the movies.

When hit by a car and hurled over top of it, I did get up, Terminator-like, and start chasing it. There the movie resemblance ends, as it had disappeared and I never did find out who did it. (No, seriously, this happened on October 20th 2002 - my wife's collarbone was broken and her shoulder dislocated cos she was hit as well, and yes, movie-fans, she did put it back in by slamming it against a corner, Lethal Weapon style)

Though my personal favourite was, after an earlier car crash in which she was unhurt but I got a whole bunch of broken ribs (all the ones under my right shoulderblade) and busted assorted other bits (right ankle, wrist and elbow, the radio flew out of the dash and gave me a crack on the collabone, etc*) we were determined to find out whether James Bond's adventures with Dr Warmflash after similar (actually lesser, I think!) injuries in TWINE were possible. Think of it like Mythbusters, doing the science so you don't have to. And, yes, it is, but I wouldn't recommend it!

*- and, as it happens, killed a bit. No pulse, breathing, etc when the paramedics arrived. But obviously I got better. And, unlike in the movies, that *fucking hurts*

 

[The Borgified Corpse]

I've always longed for life to be a musical. It would be so fun!

According to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that eventually causes people to spontaneously combust.

In real life, women often prefer James Marsden over me!

 

[Trekker4747]

The last time I was intimate with a woman, the James Bond theme starting playing out of thin air.

Actually, this reminds me! The first time I was intimate with a man was on a uniquely New York sweltering September afternoon. I was 19, and lived in Washington Heights, a neighborhood of rundown and mouse infested apartments, children cooling themselves under the streams of busted open fire hydrants, and Dominican men playing dominoes on the sidewalks. It was that time in the afternoon when the sun seems to be reaching as far as it can to touch everything and paint it orange. It was that time of summer when it's so hot you feel heavy and sweaty just sitting around, and in absence of air conditioning, we'd thrown open the huge living room window of our ancient and crooked apartment to tempt a breeze that was only strong enough to flutter the sheer, dusty rose curtains. My lover and I were on the red sofa, above which we had hung (like all artsy college sophomores had done) a series of 40's and 50's cult and film noir movie posters, and on the adjacent wall, Klimt's "The Kiss".
He was actually dressed all in black, despite the heat, and had a dark Grecian curl hanging over his forehead. We kissed, for the first time, in the golden sunlight and the oppressive heat, and just as his tongue entered my mouth, a Spanish love song complete with violins came blaring through the window, from some one's car stereo or boom box parked on the sidewalk four stories below.

I can read this forever.

 

[thestrangequark]

The last time I was intimate with a woman, the James Bond theme starting playing out of thin air.

Actually, this reminds me! The first time I was intimate with a man was on a uniquely New York sweltering September afternoon. I was 19, and lived in Washington Heights, a neighborhood of rundown and mouse infested apartments, children cooling themselves under the streams of busted open fire hydrants, and Dominican men playing dominoes on the sidewalks. It was that time in the afternoon when the sun seems to be reaching as far as it can to touch everything and paint it orange. It was that time of summer when it's so hot you feel heavy and sweaty just sitting around, and in absence of air conditioning, we'd thrown open the huge living room window of our ancient and crooked apartment to tempt a breeze that was only strong enough to flutter the sheer, dusty rose curtains. My lover and I were on the red sofa, above which we had hung (like all artsy college sophomores had done) a series of 40's and 50's cult and film noir movie posters, and on the adjacent wall, Klimt's "The Kiss".
He was actually dressed all in black, despite the heat, and had a dark Grecian curl hanging over his forehead. We kissed, for the first time, in the golden sunlight and the oppressive heat, and just as his tongue entered my mouth, a Spanish love song complete with violins came blaring through the window, from some one's car stereo or boom box parked on the sidewalk four stories below.

I can read this forever.

In addition to your artistic ability, you also have literary talent.

Perhaps I should forgo children's picture books and write erotica instead?

That really is exactly as it happened. Though I left out the fact that there were random sequins on the curtains which worked as prisms, sprinkling the room with subtle, glistening rainbows.

 

[Trekker4747]

Actually, this reminds me! The first time I was intimate with a man was on a uniquely New York sweltering September afternoon. I was 19, and lived in Washington Heights, a neighborhood of rundown and mouse infested apartments, children cooling themselves under the streams of busted open fire hydrants, and Dominican men playing dominoes on the sidewalks. It was that time in the afternoon when the sun seems to be reaching as far as it can to touch everything and paint it orange. It was that time of summer when it's so hot you feel heavy and sweaty just sitting around, and in absence of air conditioning, we'd thrown open the huge living room window of our ancient and crooked apartment to tempt a breeze that was only strong enough to flutter the sheer, dusty rose curtains. My lover and I were on the red sofa, above which we had hung (like all artsy college sophomores had done) a series of 40's and 50's cult and film noir movie posters, and on the adjacent wall, Klimt's "The Kiss".
He was actually dressed all in black, despite the heat, and had a dark Grecian curl hanging over his forehead. We kissed, for the first time, in the golden sunlight and the oppressive heat, and just as his tongue entered my mouth, a Spanish love song complete with violins came blaring through the window, from some one's car stereo or boom box parked on the sidewalk four stories below.

I can read this forever.

In addition to your artistic ability, you also have literary talent.

Perhaps I should forgo children's picture books and write erotica instead?

That really is exactly as it happened. Though I left out the fact that there were random sequins on the curtains which worked as prisms, sprinkling the room with subtle, glistening rainbows.

Marry me.

 

[RJDiogenes]

Perhaps I should forgo children's picture books and write erotica instead?

No reason you can't do both. Just not necessarily at the same time.

That really is exactly as it happened. Though I left out the fact that there were random sequins on the curtains which worked as prisms, sprinkling the room with subtle, glistening rainbows.

That's what second drafts are for.

 

[thestrangequark]

Perhaps I should forgo children's picture books and write erotica instead?

No reason you can't do both. Just not necessarily at the same time.

Heh, let's hope not!

I might have just enough material to pen a story of my life -- I've certainly lived through a fair more unusual events than the average person my age...but, nah, memoirs of folk under the age of forty just strike me as too narcissistic. I can't even cope with the idea of a blog.

On second thought, I could do it ironically, being a hipster and all, and preface each chapter with a bit of a T.S. Eliot poem or something (which ought to boost the word count). That's it! And I'll title it something really effete, like, A Life Measured Out in Coffee Spoons.

That really is exactly as it happened. Though I left out the fact that there were random sequins on the curtains which worked as prisms, sprinkling the room with subtle, glistening rainbows.

That's what second drafts are for.

Drafts? Screw it. Too much effort!

 

[RJDiogenes]

^^ You should have lived in the 60s.

"Chapter Seventeen: By the way, in Chapter Six, I forgot to mention the random sequins that sent subtle, glistening rainbows throughout the room. You know, the room with the Klimt poster."

 

[Zulu Romeo]

On second thought, I could do it ironically, being a hipster and all, and preface each chapter with a bit of a T.S. Eliot poem or something (which ought to boost the word count). That's it! And I'll title it something really effete, like, A Life Measured Out in Coffee Spoons.

Funny you mention that. It was recently announced that TS Eliot was the UK's favourite poet, according to an online poll.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/poetryseason/vote_results.shtml

Perhaps I should forgo children's picture books and write erotica instead?

No reason you can't do both. Just not necessarily at the same time.

[yt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7MstyFwhLy4[/yt]

 

[Emher]

The last time I was intimate with a woman, the James Bond theme starting playing out of thin air.

Actually, this reminds me! The first time I was intimate with a man was on a uniquely New York sweltering September afternoon. I was 19, and lived in Washington Heights, a neighborhood of rundown and mouse infested apartments, children cooling themselves under the streams of busted open fire hydrants, and Dominican men playing dominoes on the sidewalks. It was that time in the afternoon when the sun seems to be reaching as far as it can to touch everything and paint it orange. It was that time of summer when it's so hot you feel heavy and sweaty just sitting around, and in absence of air conditioning, we'd thrown open the huge living room window of our ancient and crooked apartment to tempt a breeze that was only strong enough to flutter the sheer, dusty rose curtains. My lover and I were on the red sofa, above which we had hung (like all artsy college sophomores had done) a series of 40's and 50's cult and film noir movie posters, and on the adjacent wall, Klimt's "The Kiss".
He was actually dressed all in black, despite the heat, and had a dark Grecian curl hanging over his forehead. We kissed, for the first time, in the golden sunlight and the oppressive heat, and just as his tongue entered my mouth, a Spanish love song complete with violins came blaring through the window, from some one's car stereo or boom box parked on the sidewalk four stories below.

It couldn't have been staged better by the greatest of cliched romance directors! How could I not go all the way?

It's comforting to know that whenever I do get to my first time there's now way it will be as awesome as this. Really the romantic in me is in awe Also love the sucker punch here...

That really is exactly as it happened. Though I left out the fact that there were random sequins on the curtains which worked as prisms, sprinkling the room with subtle, glistening rainbows.

...that drives it home! That makes both the romantic and film director in me all squiggly

Klimt's "The Kiss"

Yeah, that always gets me in the mood too.

Oh, wait: Klimt's The Kiss

Not so much, that one.

Am I an odd predominantly heterosexual man if actually am a bit more tickled by the latter one? It speaks to the artist in me.

When hit by a car and hurled over top of it, I did get up, Terminator-like, and start chasing it. There the movie resemblance ends, as it had disappeared and I never did find out who did it. (No, seriously, this happened on October 20th 2002 - my wife's collarbone was broken and her shoulder dislocated cos she was hit as well, and yes, movie-fans, she did put it back in by slamming it against a corner, Lethal Weapon style)

You're wife is fucking awesome man!


And ZR, exactly what I was thinking of

 

[Zulu Romeo]

And ZR, exactly what I was thinking of

TS Eliot rules!

 

[ManOnTheWave]

Quite often when people are using computers in movies or TV they don't use a mouse at all. All they do is type. Sometimes there isn't even a mouse in sight.

Yep, which means they either have macros for everything, or they memorized hundreds of keyboard commands. Either way, most people use the mouse, even high end technical nerds because often, it can be faster or at the very least, easier. I use keyboard commands all the time, but I still use the mouse quite a bit. Sometimes it just makes sense to use the mouse.


J.

Some years ago, I was in an acting class (it was required in school), and they'd have exercises like 'use the computer' or 'be on the phone.' I observed that audiences and even acting teachers/coaches respond well to inaccurate pantomimes rather than accurate portrayals of human behavior. Translation: it's more "exciting" to watch a computer guy sitting forward clamorously typing rather than a guy sitting quite still with only his hand or fingers making slight movements (as if on a mouse). Staring at a fixed point (ie. a screen) and making no facial expressions is also rather boring to watch.

 

[Kommander]

Yeah, that always gets me in the mood too.

Oh, wait: Klimt's The Kiss

Not so much, that one.

Am I an odd predominantly heterosexual man if actually am a bit more tickled by the latter one? It speaks to the artist in me.

You're probably fine. "Art" isn't exactly the reason I like that first image. I mean, it does have an artistic quality that I enjoy, but that feeling is overshadowed by the "woah, girls kissing. Awesome!" feeling I get.

 

[Lonemagpie]

]
You're wife is fucking awesome man!

I agree, but I'm biased...

 

[RJDiogenes]

"Ricky the Magic Pixie."

And ZR, exactly what I was thinking of

TS Eliot rules!

Robert Frost is better. TS, Eliot.

 

[Zulu Romeo]

"Ricky the Magic Pixie."

And ZR, exactly what I was thinking of

TS Eliot rules!

Robert Frost is better. TS, Eliot.

We should have given you guys Philip Larkin, just for a laugh.

 

[Kestra]

I do sit straight up when I wake up from an intense dream.

Sometimes I do odd things, like earlier this week when I woke up and yelled "It's 8:23!!!" for no reason at all. It's not like I had overslept or anything. My husband wasn't even in the room; it was just me. Oddly enough, it was 8:23 though.

 

[Aragorn]

Quite often when people are using computers in movies or TV they don't use a mouse at all. All they do is type. Sometimes there isn't even a mouse in sight.

And they never have a cursor on the screen.

 

[thestrangequark]

^^ You should have lived in the 60s.

"Chapter Seventeen: By the way, in Chapter Six, I forgot to mention the random sequins that sent subtle, glistening rainbows throughout the room. You know, the room with the Klimt poster."

Now that sounds like me. I'll provide the raw material, it's up to the consumer to sort it out!

Zion, I've always loved that sketch!

It's comforting to know that whenever I do get to my first time there's now way it will be as awesome as this.

In real life or in your movies?

Really the romantic in me is in awe Also love the sucker punch here...

...that drives it home! That makes both the romantic and film director in me all squiggly

Feel free to use the scene in a film -- it'll be my claim to fame.