Big Bang Theory characters in order of deepest character development and show impact:
In order of most annoying / rude / I could do without:
Shortest to tallest:
This year, in an attempt to break away or enhance the typical holiday movie viewing that happens in our household, I've decided to give more time to watching festive films while adding some new and/or underapprecaited titles to the rotation. 1
This year, in addition to our lineup of staple holiday films, I / We will also be watching the films listed below.
No specific order or priority. No specific rhyme or reason, other than it's either been a while since I've seen them or have had recommendations give to me.
I'm looking forward to increasing the density of holiday cheer this year.
This one’s easily at the top of my Christmas movie list and never seems to get old. The quick pace of the scenes and steady character development make it easy to stay engaged, no matter how many times I’ve watched it (probably a hundred or more at this point). The film thrives on its awkward moments, layered with unexplained family quirks and subtle hints of love and affection—it’s hard to find much not to enjoy.
If I could change one thing, though, I’d replace Sarah Jessica Parker with someone else. That might smooth out some of the awkwardness, but it would also take away part of the film’s charm. Either way, I know I’ll keep coming back to this one, even as it shows its age.
This film is a disappointing attempt to replicate the charm of the original Home Alone (1990). While it tries to recreate the magic, the addition of a convoluted plot involving a top-secret computer chip and international criminals feels out of place. It’s a misstep that I regret giving screen time to, but knowing myself, I’ll likely revisit more entries in the Home Alone franchise this holiday season—for better or worse.
The storyline held some nostalgic appeal from my childhood, but almost everything else about this film fell flat on a rewatch. The acting is lackluster, the characters lean too heavily on clichés, and Jim Varney’s trademark antics don’t hit the same notes they once did. Honestly, I’d be just fine if I never revisit this one again.
Not bad. I likely won't watch it again, but I didn't regret watching it. The special effects left a bit to be desired, and it was a more than a tad campy, but I'll give it to the writers and producers for dreaming this one up. One thing I'll point out was the significantly out of place animated flashback / story telling that the grandmother offered half way through the film; as the only animated portion of the movie, I was left wondering why they didn't choose to simply live-action it instead.
A nice, but long, holiday film. Paul Giamatti at his best. I really apprecaited the role of Mary Lamb which Da'Vine Joy Randolph brought to the screen; I can't imagine this film unfolding the way it did with someone else in the role. While an untraditional holiday flick, one that doesn't necessarily have a happy ending, The Holdovers was exactly the type of new seasonal watch I was hoping for.
The best thing Seth Rogan has produced was his memoir, Year Book (2021). This film doesn't even come close. It's typical Seth Rogan—a raunchy comedy. The latter 1/3 of the film was the best 1/3, the nods to classic chrismas films weren't plentiful enough to be effective, and I didn't laugh nearly as much as I was anticipating which is unfortunate because I hoping that The Night Before would act as a reprieve from the everyday of life. As an upside, I will say that I THOROUGHLY enjoyed the talking nativity scene; it had me on the floor laughing.
Has a cult following, spawned two remakes (2006 and 2019), and carries some interesting Canadian heritage—being loosely based on a series of Montreal holiday murders. Seemed like enough reasons to press play. The verdict? Not awful, but definitely not my thing. Between its unmistakably Canadian production value (you know exactly what I mean if you've seen enough Canadian films) and the whole slasher element, I found my attention drifting more than once. The plot felt like what I imagine most slasher films deliver, with Christmas serving as nothing more than window dressing. As for the ending—well, if you're paying even minimal attention, you'll see where it's heading long before it gets there. But hey, I went into this with basement-level expectations, so I can't say I was disappointed. The film delivered exactly what I anticipated—no more, no less. Sometimes that's all you can ask for.
what is this, a movie review blog now?
Despite having watched the Alien franchise multiple times through (except for the Alien vs Predator crossovers), including the recent and disappointing Alien: Romulus (2024), I'm realizing something strange while revisiting Alien: Resurrection (1997) as part of another complete franchise watch—I don't think I've ever actually seen this one before.
Certain elements would have stuck with me: Ripley suspended in that netted cocoon during the early scenes, the obvious parallels to Jurassic Park with its cloning plot, and the stark difference in production value compared to the first three films. No, this is definitely new territory for me.
What probably happened is that after finishing Alien3 (1992), with both Ripley and the xenomorph definitively dead, I felt satisfied enough to stop. The recurring plot lines and familiar tropes had run their course. Of course, Hollywood had other ideas—bringing both back through the magic of cloning.
There's not much to say about this one other than—I would have been better off having not watched it. The only thing making this film worth mentioning is the ensemble cast of Sigourney Weaver, Winona Ryder, and Ron Perlman. It's like a weird, alternate dimension version of Three's Company.
A list of all the typical films we watch over the winter holiday season:
When digital footprints fade to static.
I've been thinking about simpler online times lately. Not just pre-Twitter or pre-Facebook, but the golden age of blogging—2002 to 2007. Back when we wrote for ourselves and each other, without metrics or engagement scores hanging over our heads. Nostalgia hit hard this week. I found myself revisiting old digital haunts, checking blogs of people I once knew intimately through their words. People I'd crossed the country to share drinks with, whose lives I'd followed through carefully crafted posts and late-night comments.
These weren't just blogs; they were windows into authentic lives. Raw, unfiltered, and refreshingly real. Spelling errors and profanity included, because that's who we were. No polished personal brands or carefully curated content strategies—just people writing about their lives.
But here's the thing about digital archaeology: it often reveals more absences than artifacts. Most of these blogs sit dormant, frozen in time somewhere between 2009 and 2012. Of the ones that haven't completely vanished or gone private, I found exactly one with a post from the past decade. A single post.
Let's pause for a moment to appreciate Blogger. Yes, it's Google's forgotten child, but it persists. Before the era of feature-bloated platforms and over-engineered CMSes, Blogger offered something precious: simplicity. Even now, finding a platform that just lets you write is surprisingly difficult. While I've found my solution in Chyrp Lite, Blogger remains one of the purest options for someone who just wants to start typing.
The Canadian blogging community I remember was tight-knit—a continuous conversation spanning years and provinces. Now those voices are silent. Some final posts mention new domains (long dead), others acknowledge extended absences (never to return), and many simply... stop. Like abandoned Facebook profiles, they exist in digital limbo, neither alive nor quite dead.
I went looking for traces of myself too, but came up short. Between my own efforts to erase a former digital life and time's natural erosion, those old stories—full of cigarettes, whiskey, and self-deprecation—have largely vanished. Maybe that's for the best.
What I miss most isn't the platform or even the specific people—it's the honesty. We wrote ourselves into existence, sharing local stories that somehow formed a national community. Today's blogs often feel like performances, each post carefully aligned with some greater purpose or brand. Back then, blogging was simply an extension of self, digital amplification of who we really were.
I'm not sure what I hoped to find in this digital archeological dig. Maybe glimpses of my former self, or pictures of those almost-close connections from before the world shrank into our phones. Whatever I was searching for remains elusive, lost in the digital ether of abandoned domains and expired hosting plans.