part of your world.

I want to see this so bad.

For those Tim Burton fans still sticking around after my previous post, watch this trailer to see the dark master circa 1981, whilst he was an animator working on The Fox and the Hound.

family dinner time.

I love big get togethers—here or at MAMA's house, doesn't matter. Tonight we celebrated a late St. Patty's day by gathering around the ol' library table at MAMA's house for a bounty of corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, shepherd's pie and more. Conversation worked it's way around in circles, somehow always arriving at Matt D with a turkey baster.

I have the best friends in the world.

FINALLY.

Usually I'm so utterly alone in my legendary disdain for Tim Burton. He gets credit for being some kind of genius when 99% of the time he's taking something that already exists and just making it creepier.

Big Fish is the only film of his I genuinely like, even Nightmare Before Xmas has lost it's lustre (Coraline also filled any gap left by not having a favorite Henry Sellick flick on my list.) But Big Fish departs from his usual formula and that's probably why. I don't even think Johnny Depp is in it. I know it sounds impossible, but it may be true. Wait. Maybe he's in the catfish outfit. DAMN YOU, BURTON!

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Matt D pointed me in the direction of this little gem too...

a concert where frank turner and some others play.

In the fall, we bought tickets for a show at Water Street, based on the presumption that two of our favorite bands/singers would be there. The first was Murder By Death, who I've seen a few times before. The second was Frank Turner, who I'd never seen and was completely obsessed with.

A week or so before the show, he dropped off the tour. I was crushed.

So when the Flogging Molly tour was announced with Frank as one of the supporting acts, I was there. So there... despite not being much of a Flogging Molly fan.

A truly awful band took the stage first. The Architects. It was like bad butt rock straight from the 80's.

The following tweets were twittered:

"Seriously, The Architects? What year is this? Or have I fallen victim to a hot tub time machine?"

"Yay. The suck has ended."

When the suck had indeed ended, Frank Turner came out with his full band. It was amazing. How often does Ben Franklin get a shout out during a rock show? Not often enough. But apparently the song that followed the historical reference really pissed off the drunk kid in front of me and he held his swaying fists up with both middle fingers extended. It was funny, until he continued to do so well into the next song. My favorite song; completely non-political. A god damn love song. It was impossible to record without his meaty fist cutting in and out of the shot.

Regardless, I'm so glad he sang this.

As for Flogging Molly... who cares? I have nothing against the band, but the crowd had done wonders to turn me off to the headliner. These are people who crawl out of their caves once or twice a year to go to a show that's not in a stadium. They don't know how to act when you're standing on the floor.

I've realized that what I don't like about Flogging Molly fans is the same thing I don't like about people who are really into Jimmy Buffet. These are people pretending to be Irish, like Parrotheads pretend they're all going to end up living on a beach some day. This was made crystal clear when Dave King commented that the next song was about the Irish being sent to Barbados by the thousands. This Cromwellian act was cheered. Cheered to the point that King had to point out this was part of a greater plan to wipe out the Irish race to get the appropriate "booo" from the gathered masses. Yeah, that wasn't a cruise so much as forced indentured servitude.

Matt and I wandered back to the merch tables and with the ATM out of cash and a tenner between us, I got 7-inch from Frank Turner... directly. He signed the cover, my heart raced and I babbled something about how much I love his music and he was just English and adorable and reached out to shake my hand.