Don't worry. I'll watch an episode of SPN or come across a pretty Jared picture and all will be forgiven.
But now I am still reeling from the er, experience of watching The Christmas Cottage.
There is no squee under the cut. Thou art warned.
WHY DO YOU HATE ME, JARED? WHY? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?
SERIOUSLY. THAT WAS SO FUCKING ASTOUNDINGLY BAD. DO YOU LOVE MONEY THAT MUCH? THAT QUESTION IS ALSO DIRECTED TO PETER O'TOOLE AND MARCIA GAY HARDEN. YOU ALL. WHY. WHYYYYYY.
At many points in watching the movie, I was sort of incoherent with rage. Don't get me wrong, I love a bad movie. I adore shitty movies and consider them precious diamonds, to be collected and stored, possibly carefully catalogued. The Christmas Cottage had no redeemable moment for me where I went, "well, it was BAD but I liked this moment so...whatever, I got something out of it."
I only got RAGE. And sadness. It ruined the happy buzz I had from drinking at the Beer Garden and my lovely sugar high off the yummy caramel hot chocolate I got at Starbucks.
When you're out-acted by The Lesser Ashmore, that's just...sad. Seriously you guys. Seriously.
There was an evil theory I floated about the quality of a certain actor's acting in relation to getting fucked up the ass but I will not go into detail as I am still so very D: about the movie. It's also that Jared had SO LITTLE TO DO. I mean, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? SRSLY. More of that fucking movie was spent on the "quirky" townspeople and there was no story movement or like, ANYTHING that made you care about anything and there was SURPRISE FISTING and daddy groping for his son's dick and SO MANY SCENES AT THE GRAVEYARD WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THAT MOVIE?
Then we have a montage at the end that includes scenes from LESS THAN FIVE MINUTES AGO. WHAT. WHAAAAAAT.
Random narration moments were random.
Jared did cheer up whenever he had a puppy to play with in a scene. Other than that he didn't know what to do with his hands. (Jared's internal dialogue: "okay, keep your hands on the walker. Man, Peter O'Toole is awesome. Oh wait, now I need to move to my next mark, fuck, what am I gonna do? Okay, I'll keep my hands in my pockets. Hands in the pockets. Shit. I still don't have a line. Okay, press my lips together a little firmer. I paint with my left hand. Man, my leg is itchy. I wonder if Jensen has texted me yet. I miss him. D:" <-- you KNOW Jared thinks in emoticons.)
In conclusion, not even TOM WELLING approves of this fuckery. I cannot believe that this was considered for a theater release. It's barely direct-to-dvd quality.
AND THE LIGHTING. DEAR GOD. WHO EVER WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE LIGHTING IN THIS MOVIE SHOULD DIE IN A FIRE ON A CEILING. OR SIT NEXT TO memphis86.
I can never unwatch that. At least I had the opportunity to be horrified in the presence of drvsilla, causeways, missyjack, ignited, and Memphis. We all shared the pain. The horrible, horrible pain.
I shall now focus on happy things. Like Dr. Dru's professional photography study of Sam and Dean Winchester (with bonus Walroose!Chad Michael Murray and TOM WELLING) in the wee Impala I gave to Stef when we met up at the Beer Garden. I very much enjoyed that photoshoot.
And you know what? I bet her use of lighting was far better than the brain trust behind The Christmas Cottage.
SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP. Jared, babe, don't made me dread seeing you in Friday the 13th.
Scarred-for-life Reg is scarred for life.