missprint

let me put you in the major key


I am a terrible, terrible friend. I have been trying to think of an excuse to get myself out of birthday celebrations tomorrow. I fear that the Wretched Dissertation is not a good enough excuse (well, nothing bar illness is really a good enough excuse and I can't quite bring myself to lie). It also makes me worry a little that I'm developing anti-social tendancies. I was discussing this earlier with Sarah, that the whole clubbing scene has lost its sheen for us. I'm not sure whether it's premature middle-aged-dom or it's just that I've never been that big on drinking anyway.

Judging from the entries in the Belarusian Movie Poster quiz I posed yesterday, you, my dear readers, know your Cyrillic alphabet. But for those of you who just couldn't get past the likeness that Jim Carrey poses to Cain Dingle in the first poster, here are the answers:





I was rather puzzled by this poster actually. There is no promotional poster for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind that bears a resemblance to the Belarusian version, so consider yourselves lucky, gentle readers, that you are in the midst of an exclusive. Also, as Stepford Tart points out, "The first one has got Jim Carrey in it (but I'm not sure why his face is blue)." Indeed.





I'm not too sure how La Lohan (or Jamie Lee Curtis for that matter) would react to their Belarusian likeness. Looking at the answers, it ranges from "manic looking women" to "Marilyn Manson and the skinnier girl from the Human League". I must agree with Stepford Tart that they do bear a passing resemblance to a Human League tribute band. Not least because Lindsey Lohan seems to have developed a 5 o'clock shadow in the Belarusian poster and could very well pass as Phil Oakey. And finally...





It really is a tribute to the artistic talent of the Belarusians that the only likeness they can seemingly capture is the monkey-man formerly known as Adam Sandler. Yes, the man whose face you can render with any amount of wonkiness or distortion and it still looks like Adam Sandler. Unfortunately, Drew Barrymore does not benefit from a somewhat abstract treatment. I don't know about you, but I especially like how her right eye is where her left eyebrow is. Not to mention that her head has been transplanted onto the body of a Ukranian housewife.

Well, I hope you enjoyed that little quiz my lovely readers. And we do in fact have a winner...

..Stuart! Bow down before him for his knowledge of Eastern European film art is unrivalled.

And speaking of distorted faces, here's another handy procrastination-aid that I discovered last night courtesy of Gia, the St Andrew's Face Morpher. Unfortunately, it is not so named because St. Andrew developed it in between courses at the Last Supper but rather because it was developed at St. Andrew's University. If you do have a spare half-hour and have always wondered what you would look like as a white girl, then definately investigate. (It seemingly only works in IE or Firefox, so Safari users, you'll have to switch over to the dark side temporarily. Thankyou.)

So I started out like this:



So, first up I tried out the different race options, we've got Afro-Caribbean and Caucasian here. I think I look scarily like Malorie Blackman in the Afro-Caribbean picture. And suffice to say, I don't make an attractive white girl, there's something disturbingly glassy-eyed about my Caucasian-doppleganger.



Next up, a foray into time with a babyfied version of me and an elderly version. Can I just state that I did not look like a Roswell-reject as a child and was in fact, exceedingly cute. It also seems that I am fated to morph into my father as I grow older.



And finally, my personal favourites, the artistic morphs. From left to right we have: Botticelli, Mucha and Modigliani. I'm not sure how the Botticelli morph works but it doesn't seem to be compatible with my face. That is not a face that could be seen rising, Venus-like out of the sea. The Modigliani one is, far and away, my favourite if only for how much it does look like a Modigliani, have a look at Madame Pompadour and you can see how good the likeness is.



I'd actually quite like to wander around South London with the face of a Modigliani. I could become an urban legend, something I feel that Peckham lacks. I mean, Camberwell has its White Woman, which is definately not an urban legend as I saw her wandering along Camberwell Church Street about 6 years ago. For those of you who aren't familiar with the story (that'll be most of you then...), the White Woman of Camberwell is a black lady who paints herself plaster white, from every hair on her head to her toes. The legend is that she paints herself white because she got raped by a black man and ever since then, has painted herself white. At the time when I heard this story from my 14-year old schoolmates, it sounded plausible. However, now on reflection, I think she's probably just a local eccentric (knowing Camberwell).

Anyway, speaking of myths and legends, I had better get back to Bluebeard and the Wretched Dissertation. Pip pip.

2 Responses to “"hello, did you call me? / i thought it didn't matter that you're gone"”

  1. # Anonymous Anonymous

    thanks for the note, much appreciated. And for the silver too! Now, I feel its my duty as a mum to say "get on with some work, you slacker!". s x PS the modigliani is fab!  

  2. # Anonymous Anonymous

    Yay, I'm moving to Belarus forthwith. Although, I have to say that Drew Barrymore doesn't really look any better in the official 50 First Dates poster (in fact both she and Adam look like they've had their faces transported onto other people's bodies, possibly from St Andrews). You should sell your baby face to the makers of Bratz. Can I confess to having spent a worrying amount of time wondering if Jordan seduced the poor innocent Gareth, or if he was like every other teenage boy and went "Yay! Boobies!" *does lobster-claw impression* and she fell to his faux-stutter as easily as her namesake country lost to Israel in half a dozen wars in the past 60 years. I forgot The Birds was based on a story/novel; that must be a very strange thing to read, unless it actually explains stuff.  

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