Root, Shoot or Marry?

He roots me, he roots me not; he shoots me, he shoots me not; he marries me - wait! Golly! I don't wanna get married I just wanna be a VAAAMPIRE!

Is there a girl in your house? A girl of any age from about 10 to, say, 110?

Does she read?

Does she breathe?

Ok.  Then having established that she's alive and literate there's only one question left: what is she?  Team Edward or Team Jacob?

And, matey, if you don't know what I'm talking about then feel free to just scroll on down and make your choices based purely on the pretty pictures.

There's rootable and shootable and marryable flesh aplenty this week, albeit that some of that flesh is, well, ice cold and not containing blood. Or a heartbeat.  And some of it may go all wolfy on your arse. But chances are that whatever the demon infection it bears, it has amber eyes and a way with words that's making the gals swoon in 36 languages and counting...

Fuck me but I honestly don't know what to say about Twifrigginglight. 

Is Stephenie Meyer just the Dan Brown of the Tweenie set?

Or am I just a bit down on her because I cannot get the WHINING of the Bella voice out of my head.

Edited to add this link from the lovely Tracey, who clearly feels my pain too. d

On the one hand the four books in the series add up to some of the most inane couple of thousand pages I've read in a very long time.  In particular, one of the things that struck me was how so much promised action could amount to so little actual activity.

On the other hand, there's some good spots and a few interesting ideas and, given a chance, a decent editor could have cut a lot of the whiny teenage girl crap down (does he love me, doesn't he love me, why won't he just biiiiiiite me, he'd bite me if he really loved me, does he love me, etc etc etc) and joined those good spots up into one punchy novel... that probably would have been remaindered on its first edition.

Better brains than mine will attack the question of how these books become so popular when others languish, but RSM has never been a literature review and her at the House of Root we can only bow to the great god of Popular Culture.

As I write this, the Pea Princess and one of her friends are creating their second Twilight blog (invited readers only - because apart from the teen vampire sex books and M rated films I am ALL about responsible parenting).  Many of the grown women I know are besotted with Edward, or Jacob, or both, and cannot put the books down.  And Ms Meyer(Brown) continues to rate her tits off on the bestseller lists while they make the second movie of the series.

And yes, of course I've read all four, and seen the movie.  There are downsides to birthing an uber-advanced reader and one of the problems is that they hit a stage where nothing that is totally age appropriate presents any kind of challenge.  Over Christmas I had to race to keep up with the Pea Princess as she inhaled all four books in about 10 days. Fortunately I could do so on the kind of holiday where you sit by the pool and waiters bring you drinks with umbrellas in them, so it wasn't all bad.

To my relief, Ms Meyer may struggle with leaving out the whiny parts, but she is an accomplished mistress of euphemism.  In fact, (SPOILER ALERT) at one stage someone goes for a swim and comes back pregnant, with only a kind of descriptive glow in between.  Also, the Pea Princess is of an age where she still thinks the stuff in the bedroom is the boring bit. At least, that's what she told me...

Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse and Breaking Dawn, and the movie, and the soundtrack, and the t-shirts (Forget Princess, I want to be a Vampire; I love boys who sparkle) and the key rings and the quiz books and the Director's Notebook and the badges and the pendants and the bookmarks... they've all made my little big girl very happy.  Now it's your turn.

The Boys

Edward

Actor Robert Pattinson.  Has gone from being the cute and tragically dead Cedric Diggory in the Harry Potter movies to being the cute and tragically undead vampire Edward in Twilight.  Funny how fame works, isn't it?

Jacob

 

Nearly didn't put him in as I'm not sure he's even legal in real life, but what with the whole Team Edward vs Team Jacob thing... it seemed important.

James

 

Because he ends up (literally) as toast in Twilight so we won't be seeing him again.  And because what's an RSM without a bad guy?

Bella

 

Is it just me or is there a touch of the HBCs about her?

Rosalie

 

And finally, the irresistibly adorable Alice

 

(Note - it's taken forever to get this far, so long that Joke has started nagging again even though he swore he'd stopped.  I can partly blame holidays and bad internet access but I also admit that the Pea Princess' Twilight obsession pulled me up short a few times.  It was a bit like playing RSM with The Famous Five or the Secret Seven.  Anyway, as you can see I cowgirled up and got over it so watch out next week as we take the RSM challenge over Winnie the Pooh, Tinky Winky and Pippi Longstocking.)

mtc

Bec

RSM is in transit

We're on the road to a warm and sunny break in the far north.  RSM is in draft, awaiting a few more pics. Will come to you once I have that umbrella drink in my hand (the resort has wireless, I checked).  RSM is, after all, supposed to be propped against a bar to be played well.

How about, til that drink arrives, I give you a big hint on the promised topical theme?

How old are you?
Seventeen.
How long have you been seventeen?
A while.

So don't just sit there.  Go do your research, dudes.

mtc

Bec

Rooted by age

I admit it.

I have reached an age where I have to work at technology.  And it pisses me off.

The Pea Princess recently turned 11 and got an iPod.  Fuck me but that's been hard work.  First we set it up on my new work Macbook.  Simple enough.  Then realised it had to more often talk to the Family HP.  Bugger.  Restore iPod to factory settings. Install iTunes on a PC that doesn't want it because it wants to use Total Crappo Windows Media Player instead. 

OH - did I mention all of this was happening on VistatheworstoperatingsystemsincetheFRIGGINGABACUSexceptanABACUSmakes sense?

Ahem.  This is not the personal blog. 

I have a point.  An RSM Point. 

And it's a good point too.

The point is that I don't really understand why, but if you are one of those who (bless your faithful or lazy hearts) still have my Becandcall blog in your links? You will have to change it.  The RSM blog is the same as Becandcall, only different.  So copy the new URL into whatever bit of bafflement your blogging program requires, and then you won't miss the next week's RSM.

Which will be (sneak preview alert) Very Topical.

That's Topical.  Not Tropical.  Forget the coconut oil.

And do, please, remember my eldest is 11. 

And a girl.

And that these days, Topical doesn't get more Topical than Topical Tween.

mtc

Bec

Root, Shoot or Marry? The Chocolate Game

Lo, but this Easter revival of the Root Shoot Marry game could have gone any number of directions.

For many, Easter's meaning is straightforward and sincere.

For Australians, Easter is often the last shot at the great outdoors before our version of winter sets in.

But regardless of your religion or climate, there is an excellent chance that Easter will also have one other, damn near universally significant symbol...

(On a personal note, my taste runs more to these than to these but that Bunny keeps showing up with the melting kind.)

So where does that leave us for the RSM return?
Knee-deep in the brown stuff, I reckon.  Most of it very obvious.

HOWEVER since it's a special RSM this week you may have to try just a little harder to work out all the connections between the fleshly candidates below.

So who needs a reminder of The Rules? Three boys and three gals: one each to root, one to shoot and one to make legal.

Starting with the boys and an old favourite.  I have come to realise there is almost no RSM game from which I could exclude him.

Johnny Depp

 

Oh.  Johnny. Oh.

Next up

Mickey Rourke

 

For the purpose of this week's game we're using this view, and not the ghastly mugshot

(which I could have used in this RSM, from another time and place, yes?)

And thirdly, a quiet achiever from Down Under (although born in UK, who knew?)

Noah Taylor

 

Don't worry, he'll be obvious if you check his filmography.

And the girls (got the connection right yet?)

Helena Bonham Carter

 

With the hope that her, ah, head isn't too distracting for one of our regular RSMers (Lordy but I have a long memory)

Next up, the divine

Juliette Binoche

 

Crikey. So perfect. So vairy Fronch.

And finally,

Kim Basinger

 

Spotted the warm sweet thread tying them all together yet?
Even if you haven't, your job now is to choose.  One to screw, one to fatally eschew and one to tell "I do"*

Good to be back.

mtc

Bec

*Yes, it took me about a year to come up with that one - no taunting please or I may have to blogstrike again in shame!

RSM is back. No, really.

Due to persistent demand of the non-nagging kind, the Root Shoot Marry game is back. 

Having learned like many before me that the interwebs is a dangerous place, especially attractive to folks of the unbalanced kind, Root Shoot and Marry is all you're going to get here now*. 

So far it's been pretty painless to switch over, although republishing the old RSM posts has created a few issues like losing all photo links and republishing everything with today's  date.  Also I appear to have lost the ability to make a photo appear in a banner.

Hmm, maybe not so painless after all.  Bear with me for a bit.

Will work on the first RSM game today.  Easter seems to lend itself to a fresh start and an interesting theme or two...

And since one thing I have managed to do is set up an RSM Twitter feed, you may be able to follow the game there, too.

https://twitter.com/RootShootMarry

mtc

bec

*There might be a password protected personal blog somewhere soon. We'll see.

Root, Shoot or Marry. The Independence Day Issue

I took 3 unit History in Year 12 so I could spend more time with the youngest teacher in school, Mr Robertson, who had worked out in Year 11 that the only way to get me to hand in my essays on time was to bribe me.

He, being a surfie, used these:

Ah yes.  The Surfers' Bible.  Can you believe it's still in print AND with a website an' all?

My main interest was in Lash Clone, a fictional character with a column in each issue detailing his adventures as a "Legend in his own Ego".  Poor Lash.  Love treated him unkindly, frequently leaving him to the tender mercies of Mrs Palmer and her five daughters.

I hasten to add that I was also doing 3 unit English in Year 12 and was heavily into The Russians, feminist literature from the turn of the century and slogging my way through fucking Sylvia Plath and wishing she would just hurry up and die already.  You can't blame me for needing a little Lash Clone to get me through, can you?

Moving along.  What has any of this to do with Independence Day, and what has Independence Day to do with the glorious return of Root, Shoot or Marry?

Patience, gentle folk, let history take its course.

So there I was, basking in the deeply tanned glow of Mr Robertson and his salacious surfie mags, and almost coincidentally adding the American Revolution to my 2 unit studies of revolutions in France and Russia.

And it was, without doubt, the most interesting part of my Higher School Certificate year.  Apart from the sex, and the parties, and the ever diiminishing number of days remaining until I could leave that nasty little country town forever.

Truly, the War of Independence is a rollicking read, and, as is often the way, it's the French involvement that made it enjoyable for me.  To put it very simply (and probably to be howled down by Americans instantly) in large part the ideas behind the revolution were inspired by, or came directly from, France.  And then the French kicked in some cash and boats and other goodies to help in the fight against le Eengleesh peegs. Some fabulous writers involved, too.  That Declaration is a great read. 

Anyhoo, all lovely stuff, and it did make the time go by.

So in honour of this 231st week's celebration of the Declaration of Independence, and with thanks to Tony for suggesting two of the three blokes, I bring you this week's Root Shoot Marry with a selection of modern day representatives of the American Revolutionary War.

Much as I gripe about rules, there are some very specific rules for the playing of Root Shoot or Marry - known in other jurisdictions by a range of titles including Cliff, Shag, Marry.  Full backstory is here but the rules in brief are:

• you have three choices - to root (Australian for HAVE SEX with, not cheer on), to shoot (and this means DEAD) or to marry (til death do you part, sex optional)
• You must make a choice for every RSM nominee.  I am very kind and give you both genders.  You may do all boys or all girls or all six, but you cannot, for instance, say you can't bear to shoot any of the blokes so kill two of the women instead.
• You publish your choices in the comments box.
• I may then come along and make fun of your sexual predilections.  Don't be upset.

Your men:

Nicholas Sarkozy, the new French President

Gordon Brown, the new British Prime Minister

And Barak Obama, maybe, just maybe, the future President of the United States of America. (You didn't really think I'd use He Grew Bogus did you?)

And for the ladies? Surprisingly easy once I'd got the theme right this week.

The French runner-up, competing with Barak this week for most whimsically named participant in RSM - Segolene Royal

Cherie Blair - yesterday's woman, I know, but pictured here rather heroically closing her eyes and thinking of England.  Lovely Independence Day symbolism...

and, of course, that other maybe baby, Hillary Rodham Clinton

So.  All politicians this week which will undoubtedly have many of you wishing there was more than one bullet in the gun for each gender but too bad.  Personally, I reckon Segolene and Barak can expect quite a lot of action compared to, say, Gordon and Cherie, but you know what? The sheer joy of RSM is that you can never, never tell in advance which way the combox is going to lean in the horizontal folk-dance department.

Off you go then, root 'em, shoot 'em, marry 'em.

Geez it's good to be back.

mtc

Bec 

Root Shoot Marry - Smoother than silk

And if you covered him in garbage, George Sanders would still have style...

My husband, the Professor, has been quoting that line from The Kinks' Celluloid Heroes for almost as long as I've known him.

It took until today for me to actually look up the good Mr Sanders, however, and find out what all the fuss was about.

I'm betting even if you've never heard of him, you had a big old Ah-ha moment when you saw his pic.

But the thing is, for the purpose of the Root Shoot Marry game this week, it doesn't really matter if you recognised him or not.

You don't have to know George Sanders to know what The Kinks - and the Prof - are saying here. Some people just ooze style. It's in the way they look at you, the way that eyebrow tilts, the way that scarf sits just so... the way, once you've seen them, it's hard to remember who else was in the room.

That's where we're going this week, ladies and gents, cruisin' down the Silk Route.

These are the people for whom the word suave was invented.

Mind you, that much perfection could, just possibly, become a little annoying eventually.  So hopefully your choice between bedding, wedding and deading this week won't be completely impossible.

Let's go. One to Root, one to Shoot, one to Marry. 

The Men

Gregory Peck

Will you look at that eyebrow lift?

David Niven - a bit dorky but much better in motion than a still. Remember?

(I bet that moustache would tickle).

And, just to prove that style is not a factor of time, the always-eye-candy and increasingly stylish Ben Affleck.

The Women

Catherine Deneuve.  Well, duh.

And again to the present: Julia Stiles

And finally, in a vote for all us brunettes, the lovely Liv Tyler

Have fun, folks.  As I recall, we all like it in the weeks that are full of pretty people.

mtc

Bec

Root Shoot Marry - One Root to Rule Them All

All that is gold does not glitter

Not all those who wander are lost

The old that is strong does not wither

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

I wish I could take you back to the 11 and a half year old I was when I read Lord of The Rings.  I laughed, I cried, I memorised the poetry.

But then, maybe best not take you back, because I was also a bit of a Pony Club prig.  You might not have liked me so much.  Few years later? The horse was lonely in the paddock and I was smoking, drinking, fooling about with boys who owned utes and played rugby - much more fun. 

Sigh.

But that* LOTR book?  At 11 and again at 15 and again at 20 and once or twice since?

I Loved It. 

And the movies? Sorry to say, I loved them too.  I refuse to out my inner geek completely by whining about the parts that were left out (but seriously? the Saruman v Gandalf scene - how the FUCK could you not air that?) so I shall just say I was grateful to Tolkien as a child for the book, and I am grateful to Peter Jackson and his casting couch as an adult for the many delights that await us in this week's Root, Shoot or Marry game.

For the record, I think that's the longest sentence I've ever blogged.  I promise I won't do it again.

So, do we all know the Rules? One Root to rule them all this week, my friends, and only one Shoot in the authentically leather-bound quiver of arrows, and plenty of flower-strewn weddings with mithril rings for the Marrying choice, too.

The Lads

Legolas, aka Orlando Bloom.  You know? The wimp from Pirates of the Caribbean?

I found the butchest shot I could, since I'm even more fond of him after watching Elizabethtown the other day.

Aragorn, aka Viggo Mortensen

Trust me, this is as good as his hair gets for the entire trilogy, but if you want another Viggo view, I can recommend A History of Violence. (That thing on the stairs in AHOV? Towards the end? Woah. Nice bum.)

And finally, hands up who thinks they're getting a hobbit?

WRONG!

Boromir aka, Sean Bean.

And here they are together: ever so slightly sweaty and intent...

How's that for you? Got your inner geek (or Pony Club prig) astir?

Now, the Lasses - and let's remember the lovely Arwen/Liv Tyler made an appearance last week so is NOT coming back this week, sorry.

Galadriel.  Cate Blanchett.  Let's hear it for our first Australian Beauty, folks. 

Even if she does have weird pointy ears...

Next up, another (and actually born here this time) Australian Beauty, Eowyn, aka Miranda Otto.

and finally, well, can you guess?

I can't do Liv and Tolkien is notoriously short on women for the Academic Feminists to deconstruct.

But do you know who I think of when I think of Wedding, Bedding and Deading in Hobbiton? 

When I think of Cliff, Shag, Marry in the Shire?

Oh yes.

You escaped the hobbits with the lads, but you can't run from Rosie Cotton in the lasses.

Aka Sarah McLeod, and we may never hear of her again, but she has a lovely smile.

Sarah as Rosie Cotton, soon to be wife of the delectable Samwise Gamgee:

 

But (because the geeks have, quite frankly, let me down when it comes to freely available Rosie pics on the Interweb) here's an official shot of Rosie-As-Sarah, just to prove how lovely she really do be - err - is.  Damn that hobbit-speak.

SO.  Go to it, intrepid ringbearers that you are.  Pick one to root (remember, that doesn't mean 'cheer for' in Australian), one to shoot and one to marry.  And take one of each gender, if it so please your good selves.

Me? I'll be kicking back in front of a nice fire with my mate Gandalf and a pipe full of Longbottom Leaf. 

We have some catching up to do.

mtc

Bec

*you have to click here, and read at least a little bit, because it so deliciously out-geeks any geekdom you or I could imagine that I feel like going to each and every one of these 'transcriber's' homes and giving them a big pash and washing their hair so they can leave their smelly bedrooms and meet some real girls...Cos these guys are actually kinda funny, as geeks go.

Root Shoot Marry - Drunks and Lushes (hic)

Ooooooooh.  My head.

Last night - a school night I might add - I had to go to a farewell cocktail party for one of our directors for a couple of hours before heading off to the aforementioned launch of Safari, the fourth book written by a friend of many years and miles.

The sort of night, dear Internets, that one plans for well in advance. 

The sort of night, dearest Cyberwebbers, that one understands has to be well-paced and interspersed with much iced water.

The sort of night, darling Bloggles, in which it would be Just.Plain.Stoopid to drink too much, too fast, too soon.

So, naturally, as a responsible professional woman and mother of three with a job to go to the next day, I was as pissed as a cricket before the Prof picked me up from the first function to take me to the second one.

Ooooooooh.  Did I mention my head?

How about my eyes?

And the nausea?

Oooooh.

Was it the large bucket of champagne in which I soaked at the cocktail party?  Was it the even larger bucket of white wine at the launch?  Maybe it was the almost total absence of food?

Hmmmm.  Perhaps the Drambuie and the two cigarettes and the drag on the vanilla cigar?

What the fuck is a vanilla cigar, anyway?

Oooh.

So I've abandoned the Sidekicks theme that I had planned for this week's Root Shoot Marry.  My sympathies, today, lie with the world of drunks and lushes.

I am a lush, dammit.  Out and proud and wincing at bright lights.

Your job now is to pour yourself a large glass of something and consider well: of the male drunks and female lushes below, which will you shoot, which will you shag and which will you marry?

The Drunks

Hunter S Thompson. Legend.  Note the glass with ice cubes and (probably) whiskey down near his right foot.

Hunter S quote: I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.

Oliver Reed.  Favourite drink, reputedly, was creme de menthe. Also reported to be rum, scotch, beer and Bloody Marys.  Let's assume he liked the lot.

Did you ever see him crash through the set on Parkinson?

Oliver quote: I'm only drinking white wine because I'm on a diet and I don't eat.

Bon Scott. Hard core drunk. Two bottles of bourbon and a handful of pills before every AC/DC gig.

Bon quote: It keeps you fit - the alcohol, nasty women, sweat on stage, bad food - it's all very good for you.

The Lushes

Judy Garland. What a sweetie.  Vodka drinker, of course.

Judy quote: If I'm such a legend, why am I so lonely?

Marilyn Monroe. Poor baby, but what a lush!  Favourite drink champagne - preferably Dom Perignon 1953, or so they say.

Marilyn quote:What do I wear in bed? Why, Chanel No. 5, of course.

Janis Joplin. Southern Comfort, as befits a hippie bluesy pin up girl.

I'm adding this pic, just for the Prof.  Joke: look away, there's nipplage.

Janis quote: If I hold back, I'm no good. I'm no good. I'd rather be good sometimes, than holding back all the time.

EDITED FOR STOMPER GIRL

Seeing Stomper's comment just now I remembered this pic that I didn't post because it has Angus as well as Bon Scott.  But if you ever wondered what side Bon dressed to, this should answer your question.

So, I'm off to take another Stemetil with a mug of antioxidant rich White Tea as a chaser.

Party on, dudes: bed 'em, dead 'em and wed 'em.  But don't forget to drink a decent amount of water along the way, ok?

mtc

Bec

Root, Shoot, or Marry: the Rules!

The essence of Root Shoot or Marry is choice.

The harder the better.

And how do the choices become hard?

Through consistent, judicious application of The Rules, which (lucky you!) are very, very simple.

You have only three choices.  And when I am feeling very kind, you get to exercise your three choices in each of two genders.

Your first choice is: which one to root.  "To root" being an Australian verb meaning "to have sex with", or shag, or bonk, or bed.  And yes, unless otherwise specified in the game of the week, you may do so with your eyes closed.

Your second choice is: which one to shoot.  This means shoot dead and, in my experience, usually does not present a problem for any but the most feeble-hearted players.

Your third, and FINAL, choice is: which one to marry. Like, 'til death do you part.

Big sigh here. 

Now be fair, people, this is where way too many of you are not just spitting on the rules, you are fucking ripping them up and scattering them over the heads of returning sports heroes.  And then dancing in the littered gutters.

So let me make it perfectly clear that marriage ALSO means sex.  At least once. It's not a legal union otherwise, folks.  So yeah, you can focus on the shopping, or the travel, or the big house, or the pretty babies he or she will make if that gets you through ... but at the end of the wedding day you've still got to do the horizontal folk dance, my friends.

Otherwise, you're cheating. And cheating? Is bad*.

mtc

Bec

* As my mother was perhaps overly fond of saying: "they'd shoot you for that in poker."