Kelly's Dailies is Kelly Hogaboom in small, digestible bits. As a mother, lover, writer, seamstress, & cook.
"games, must we?"
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Saturday, May 17, 2008 at 1:36 PM.
I've been working my way through Hitchcock films and have decided I want to live in a Hitchcockian universe. Especially delicious was my recent viewing of Dial M For Murder. Ray Milland!* I loved him so very much as a villain, maybe more than I've liked any villain. (- note, all trailers are a bit spoiler-ish and I wouldn't watch them if you haven't already seen the films):
Dial M was recommended by a moviephile I met after I told him I'd recently viewed - and re-viewed, and loved - North by Northwest (below trailer is a re-vamp on movie trailer styling, me likey):
Up next for me (I've already seen it, but want to again):
I just want to live in a world where, say, I'm recovering from gallavanting around on clandestine capers and I have beautiful slacks and shirts and patent leather shoes delivered to me in boxes and I whip them on and slip out the window to catch a cab and rescue my love and not only that, but later on I've had the foresight such that I can pull out of my impeccable pockets not only a matchbook and handkerchief with my monogram but also a tiny, useful pencil for dispatching secret messages in a pinch. And yeah, I'm Cary Grant. But also somehow, I get to make out with Cary Grant too. Look, it all works in my mind, see?
* And, um, OMG. I like Ray Milland, and I like Rosey Grier, and until now I had no idea they put their considerable combined prowess together for:
Words simply cannot express.
Dial M was recommended by a moviephile I met after I told him I'd recently viewed - and re-viewed, and loved - North by Northwest (below trailer is a re-vamp on movie trailer styling, me likey):
Up next for me (I've already seen it, but want to again):
I just want to live in a world where, say, I'm recovering from gallavanting around on clandestine capers and I have beautiful slacks and shirts and patent leather shoes delivered to me in boxes and I whip them on and slip out the window to catch a cab and rescue my love and not only that, but later on I've had the foresight such that I can pull out of my impeccable pockets not only a matchbook and handkerchief with my monogram but also a tiny, useful pencil for dispatching secret messages in a pinch. And yeah, I'm Cary Grant. But also somehow, I get to make out with Cary Grant too. Look, it all works in my mind, see?
* And, um, OMG. I like Ray Milland, and I like Rosey Grier, and until now I had no idea they put their considerable combined prowess together for:
Words simply cannot express.
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