Sunday, March 1, 2009

When I Think About You, I Touch Myself

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Don't get it twisted: When I think of Quentin Tarantino, I do touch myself. I immediately put my finger down my throat and proceed to vom. But don't worry, it's not a conscious choice. Just a reflex.
That's not to say that I don't love me some Tarantino movies. Like many other (blind) people, I respect the work he does immensly. Not only does he bring a totally different perspective to the table, but he is one of those rare directors that creates strong, 3 dimensional roles for women. Who else out there is making movies about ass kicking, stunt car driving, martial arts mastering, gun toting, vintage car appreciating, capable of saving themselves females? The Tarantino woman will hunt you down like a rabid dog, chewing you apart and spitting you out before you can ever scream for help. Which is why no matter what Tarantino looks like-be it this or, well, this is pretty bad, I will always hold a special place in my heart for his ass.

1 comments:

Suburbia Steph said...

Looks as if someone's had a keg or two too many!

 
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