No-one is allowed to tell me what a Horcrux is

I don't read an awful lot these days. Between 55-hour working weeks, Neverwinter Nights and drunkenly trying to sing along to On Avery Island, I don't sit down and read words too often.

I have a thriteen-hour journey to undertake tomorrow, and I have decided to go and buy myself one of those "I'm not reading a kid's book, honest" editions of The Philosopher's Stone.

I hear that Harry is a Horcrux. To block out spoilers, I'm going to assume that a Horcrux is an experimental super-soldier with amnesia and genetic material from Jenova.

Furthermore, I assume that the following exchange takes place in Halfblood Prince:

Voldemort: Dumbledore never told you what happened to your father.
Harry: He told me enough!

So. I guess that as of tomorrow I'll be one of those people who make excuses for wearing silver and blue.

Thousandaire

Today I got a cheque for a thousand pounds.

I won't be going crazy, since I owe Oxford £700. Also, I owe my parents seven thousand. Also, I owe the government seventeen thousand. Still, it's nice to be able to put off extending my overdraft a little.

You might ask, if I have this breathing space, why am I still going to the Quick-e-mart to earn sublegal shillings and pence? Well, it's simple. For weeks now I've only been going because I'm too nice to make my employers look for someone else. I'm free in a fortnight, and that;s good enough for me.

This also demonstrates an alrming bit of emotional leftism in me: I feel that any old fool can earn money, but being handed it says "What you're doing is worthwhile." It's like getting a little blue ribbon from the state. And I like that.

Volver

Up until now, when people asked me what I thought it was like to be a woman my answer would be something like:"I don't know, I guess pretty much like being a man only without the constant desire to fornicate and destroy."Now, though, I have a new anser. I now say"Hey, did you see that spanish film that came out last year? With Penelope Cruz? Yeah, that's how I think it is."

This may be the most oestragen-soaked film I have ever seen. You are made aware of people's relationships constantly, and the characters in this film apparently feel that events such as murder or spectral visitations shouldn't get in the way of a lengthy discussion about feelings- or indeed, about glucose and cholesterol. I feel almost certain that by now someone has produced an edited version where a little counter tracks the number of cheek-kisses and hugs. Rest assured, they are going to need a lot of digits on that thing.

Admittedly, I have only watched half of the film so far. Having made this statement, it is almost certain that the remainder of the film is a gun battle during a car chase to stop terrorists blowing up the Miss America pageant.

Still, I can get a little bit Textual Evidence. I don't want to ruin it for you though, because this is actually an awesome film that I want you to go and see.

So, you know, SPOILERS.

Neville Longbottom is Kaiser Soyze LOL.
So far there are six female leads and a variety of supporting female characters. I have seen two named male characters:
Emillio has one scene, which boils down to "Hey, I'm leaving for Barcelona. Look after these keys to a plot point for me, will you?". (Note: this scene also refers tangentially to rape and menstruation.)
Paco is the big male lead, as Raimunda's husband. He has three scenes.
Scene one: Drinking beer, watching televised sports, fails to provide for family.
Scene two: Selfish in bed. Jacking off.
Scene three: Shivved and wrapped in a carpet.
It's a tough time looking for sympathetic male characters i nthis show is what I'm sayin'.

On a final note, when one of the Loughboroughites talks about this film I swear she calls it Vulva. This distresses me for two reasons. 1) If I'm just mis-hearing, that gives Freud and Sapir-Whorf and the rest of those artsy-fartsy ne'erdowells too much credit. 2) If she's really malapropping, is it a sharp (and consummately delivered) pun? This reopens the whole No one is really that clueless, it's an act, debate.