Welcome to Goulburn

My car windscreen blew out while I was driving up to Sydney this afternoon, so I'm stuck here in Goulburn for a few hours until I can get a train. I went for a walk to get some mags to read, and while I was walking up the main street, I heard a bunch of young men driving around yelling. Much to my surprise, as they passed, it turned out they were yelling at ME. 'Fuck you fucking faggot' was pretty much their repertoire. Charming. Now, I may be somewhat butch, but I do have women's hips (even if they aren't particularly broad); perhaps I missed them telling me I was a FAT faggot.

Something similar happened to me 15 years ago, but I was skinnier, wearing leathers, and crewcut. I'm sure I wasn't the only recipient of their attentions this arvo, but what a bizarre choice of epithet.

O well; off to the movies now.

Home in one piece

Albeit half an hour later than planned, which was already late enough. I went to see Inglourious Basterds while I was at a loose end in Goulburn. What an odd movie, and it didn't help that it's quite long, and I had to run out before it finished. Ah, 150 minute running time, and I thought it'd be over in 2 hours. Even if the train hadn't arrived 25 minutes late, I wouldn't have been able to see all of it (and it looks like the ending is crap, anyway). Still, Mélanie Laurent, the female lead, is very nice to look at, plays a kick-arse role, and doesn't end up anywhere near Brad Pitt. And it passed the time.

Certainly not one of Tarantino's best, although chunks of acting and dialogue were excellent. It's the premise and plotting that were kind of bizarre, and not in a good way, and stupid mucking around with facts (leaving aside the ending, which I'm not going to spoil, but, Jewish dairy farmers in France pre-WWII?). 6/10, mainly for the first scene, which was excellent, Mélanie Laurent and Christoph Waltz.