Sunday, April 08, 2007

Blessed Semi-Sweet Saviour...

Happy Easter, ye observant minority...



(Cosimo Cavallaro, My Sweet Lord, chocolate, 2007.)

In Love...

Zoë Bell, Grindhouse.

Fuck!



(ZB at the Hollywood premiere of Grindhouse...)

The first words out of my mouth as Death Proof ended were "I want to marry that girl, or at least some woman like her, and make eight or twelve or 800 babies with her."

Amazing, just perfect... Her character is the stuff of purest wish-fulfillment fantasy (especially when running after, then smashing the Hell out of Kurt Russell's banged-up Dodge with a length of iron pipe), but I was nonetheless seduced. That Kiwi tomboy screen-fighter stunt-freak thing is completely irresistible.

She's not gorgeous gorgeous (Rosario Dawson, Vanessa Ferlito, Sydney Potier, take your bows), but for sheer fucking spunk and hardcore EVERYTHING, she takes the fucking cake, the local confectioner's guild, and the invention of fucking baking itself.

Yes, I've become a drooling microcephalic, but buttons were pushed, sledged, seared. Wholesomeness, athleticism, sober insouciance, and a propensity for withering insolence are the qualities in a woman that blow all my fuses. Miss Bell has those goods, and just totally kicked my ass. (I'd guess at least another half-million humans feel the same.) Bravo, Hell yeah, etc.!

TS