Flemish blogger won't let me give names to my posts anymore. Not that it matters, because today all I want to say is "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeuurgggggggh I fucking hate working." I mean, it's less stressful than it was I suppose, as far as stress goes, but I can't get used to feeling like such a sucker - maybe because all of my money to date has been shunted into debt holes and retirement funds that I just might never see in this naughty naughty life so all I feel like my job is getting me is the possibility of impulse buying, which I'm not really into anymore.

Watched The Dirty Dozen last night and thought it was crap, even with Charles Bronson running around in the sort of manly yet tight clothes that were made to be run around in by him and with John Cassavetes being just phenomenal. But the 'boy's own army' whistling and drum music and the winking, winking, winking did not suit a story that culminated in the living immolation of dozens of screaming people, nor did it suit Telly Savalas's freak turn. This movie is a candidate to be remade in the same way Ocean's Eleven was - the original being crap. Of course, when it is - which it will be, Hollywood being what it is these naughty days - I'll hate it because they will never find anyone to cast who's as fucking hot as Charles Bronson or as good at playing an emotionally engaging violent asshole as John Cassavetes. Poor Hollywood.