Första advent,
Så hör vad som hänt!
Jag skriver nu på rikta,
På riktigt ska jag dikta.
Jag var iväg och bowla,
Och några strikes det fick ja,
Men sen så gick det över,
Men jag fick vad jag behöver för jag fick en HiGH SCORE
And now I want more!
I want to rise higher! Higher and higher!
Higher than the fumes rise of all that I perspire!
Higher than the wire! Higher than the legends of the heroes of the squire!
Yes, good sire, my ego grew large now.
It's almost midnight. I'm about to barge out.
I'm almost finished. Just another line.
It seems I wrote this poem, and posted just in time.
Goodnight.

I remember the old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle movies like it was yesterday. Fuzzy cotton outfits. Cuddly little critters with a human-size rat plushie, good puns, pizza and a punchy plot.

Since then they've really evolved! They are now 100% digital and packing a hellofa harder punch! Megan Fox plays April O' Neil, currently an aspiring reporter - previously the one who saved them when they were just little ordinary turtles in her dad's lab, and now they're fresh out of the sewers ready to stop the clan. The foot clan.

♪ With their two-toes and ragtops, for sure you know you'll have lots of rad spots of action, when they come blasting packing mad tank-bashing straps dawg. ♪

In short: it was awesome. I loved every second. They're fun, they're cheesy, they're emotional, strong-willed, crazy, and they like to do flips even when the situation doesn't require it. But that's just perfect because so does the main villain: Shredder. I also realize once more in this movie (as I have before) that Megan Fox isn't really that good an actress, but she does look fantastic so I assume most people don't really mind, myself included.

A few flaws: the transformer-ish sound effects when the truck was skidding to a halt on the slope really didn't fit. The real characters don't always seem to be making eye-contact with the animated ones, and the 'human' characters are as stereotypical as they can possibly get. But those are minor details, it's still a blast to watch.

The plot is all about a potential post-apocalyptic world kind of scenario, but the TMNT are there to save the day and foil that malicious plan! And then they get a van, and smooth hiphop flow ends the show as the credits start to roll. A recommendation? Here you go.

 rated 4/5: fo shizzle

Plot basics: a painting, The Lonely Maiden, is being moved from a local US museum to Denmark. One old security guard, who we at the start of the movie catch standing in front of this painting admiring it, feels like Denmark is a really long long way away. As fate has it he runs into two other guards who share his views, albeit on different artworks, and together they decide to steal them and keep them for themselves.

This would've been a pretty good movie, I suppose, if it wasn't for the fact that it's about three old men planning a heist. I like both Morgan Freeman and Christoper Walken, and William Macy too... I guess, but not when they're acting old. Danny Trejo's still kicking plenty of butt, and he's over 70, so why can't these guys follow in his statuary example?

Of course, the entire point of this movie is to have these guys age work against them. So their challenge during the heist isn't really the museum security, but rather all those problems old men have, like not being able to lift heavy items, or reacting slowly, or being incredibly stubborn and not noticing love when it pops up in their face.

Overall it's a laid back movie, subtly fun, with a happy ending. There's an interesting stopmotion scene in the planning stages of the heist, which would have been great if it wasn't so overly shaky. Fortunately the movie itself is steady steady as a rock, well-filmed, with a basic plot and somewhat expected twists. The whole procedure of the heist feels a bit unsuspenseful. It's not bad it's just... not that special. It's a good movie but... I feel they could have done more with it.

 rated 3/5: not bad

I sit here on the sideline,
But it's more like a guideline,
It's more like my timeline,
It's more like my mind's line.

Keep me check, check mate.
Keep me in the box boss.
Keep me from the checks great.
And I won't know what loss was!

I sit here on the bleachers,
The benches are my teachers,
They keep me from the reaches,
Far-reaches of the Ether.

I look down at the people like a god,
Like a sleeping god just sitting on the bleachers...
Where he sees but doesn't reach earth!
The lesson underneath hurts. Applaud.

Isn't that what they do when you're a God.

...that I can't answer!

Do I want to, or don't I want to, is what it all boils down to. And it's been on my mind all morning. The simplest thing turns into the greatest brooding. So dude, what do you think, should I or should I stop, and not think like that, think back, think: could I do this or that? And not keep letting my thoughts wander, squander on what's beyond Earth, when all that really matters is the former or the latter. Yes or no.

I took a walk and somebody vented,
Came home with so much negativity stuffed inside my cranium I saw the world as if even the verdant green trees were gray days and what does my brainmatter I lay down on my bed and took a five minute power nap and rose up and still felt tired, but I felt lighter, I shed the anger like it was skin and threw it out the window doused in gasoline with a match on top.

I sit down by the computer,
I'm tired again, I guess that's what happens when you're woken up at eight thirty in the morning after having played Pokemon the night before since after one and it's such a pointless tiredness, I wish I could shake it but the more I shake the more tired I become, at least my foot pain went away, I thought I couldn't take a walk but it seems that was just a morning handicap. It's cold in here.

Is this poetry?
Or is it just run-on rambling, benign and babbling I sit here wishing I could be nine, wishing I didn't need time to channel my growth, I chamber an oath, I vanquish on fate, my banquette is lunch, I'm about to watch a movie cause I'm too slow to be doing what I know I should be doing but I'm too slow. So I'm moving to my new home. Immersing myself in the visions presented before me as if they were my new bones, my bone marrow, like a lone sparrow I sit perched on my throne's saddle. Maybe waddle down to fire up the oven and put a bun in or something before I'm done in lunching watching 'Airplane' till I get rear pain.

One thing.
The day is great, at least I'm not late up. I'm awake and I don't believe fate sucks cause I don't believe in fate, I just hate to wait, and I don't have to wait but I wait because I mash my grapes. I wine. Looking back in time, New Year 1999 was fine, the fireworks in the sky lighting up our spooky night. I played tennis and ping pong, I think I wrote a song and back then I knew it wouldn't be long before my lyrics were strong like King Kong! It used to go a bit like this, messy, but fresh and adhesive, and not with this bitter lisp gained by living long.

Will I find my lip balm bliss?
Palm trees by a calm beach and sip on chips, dripping sweat, flipping scripts with a pitcher of Ginger Ale or Coconut juice. Sun bleaching my hair. Something tickling me feet. Something lifting me up, sunsets letting me drift off to sleep. I sip on the hope of the dope I'll see, finding a homely coping in a boatload of groceries. Is it me or just a hunch(ed back punching bag)? I imagine in a minute, I'll be down for lunch, the kitchen's just in reach. Life's a beach.