Meg and I went to see 28 Weeks Later on Saturday night, the first movie we’ve seen in the theater since Ghost Rider (PS, don’t even bother with that one … ugh, Nicolas Cage) and I have a few thoughts on it.

WARNING: Don’t read ahead if you’re worried about spoilers.

1) So the US comes in, all heroic-like, and sets up a quarantine for the survivors of the infection, which they believe has been wiped out. Why, then, if it is ‘expressly forbidden’ to leave the compound, is security so lax that two children can sneak out virtually undetected? Also, wouldn’t it make sense to create a bunker in case of emergency that actually could keep out the infected? By sticking everyone in a parking garage, protected only by a set of doors that don’t even have chains, you’re just asking for a disaster. Seriously.

2) Part of the charm and jump-factor of the first film was the use of split-second shots on the faces of the infected as they attacked their victims. These split-second shots were, of course, just long enough so that the viewer could take in the gruesome faces fully; in 28 Weeks Later, these shots were so quick that, in various parts, they had almost a strobe light effect that was highly distracting and made things difficult to take in, thereby defeating the purpose of quick shots in the first place. The attack in the subway, for example, happened so quickly that I felt like I had blinked and missed it completely. Lacking were the great shots that built up to the actual attack, such as that scene in the first movie where Jim is attacked in his kitchen by a neighbour who crashes through the window. We could see the infected running towards the window, then the scene switched back to a peaceful Jim, then BOOM. Attack. Awesome. Freaked me out the first time I’d seen it.

3) So everyone in the world is fine save for those in Britain? What happened to the fact that Selena said in the first film, “The day before the TV stopped broadcasting, there were reports of infection in Paris and New York.” But apparently this wasn’t the case in 28 Weeks Later. Hmm.

4) The infected never before demonstrated that they had any knowledge of those they were attacking, even if they were neighbours, or related, or anything. Then why did the children’s father seem to seek them out and target only them?

5) The ending left me wanting more, as we’d been given no explanation of what happened, whether the helicopter had crashed, whether Andy had gone mental and infected the other two, or whether a vaccine had been created as a result of the kids’ immunity to the disease. And why hadn’t the thousands of infected from the first outbreak not shimmy down the Chunnel originally?

Apart from all this, of course, I thought it was a thoroughly enjoyable horror flick, and of course I’ll buy it when it comes out on DVD and watch it many more times, as I did with 28 Days Later. Plus, it stars Robert Carlyle, who’s just a fabulous actor. And the infected still freak me out.

Meg had yesterday afternoon off from work (and I would say she’s lucky, except she’s working both days this weekend so I’ll keep my mouth shut) and of course indulged in a little daytime television. She taped the day’s episode of Tyra for me, as she knew I’d be intrigued by the topic.

The special guest of the day was Gwen Shamblin, who was detailing her bizarre weight loss program: Weigh Down, or, as her web site puts it, “the power of faith-based weight loss.” A number of followers - and, yes, it seemed almost cult-ish to me - went on and on about how God had shown them the way and helped them to lose weight. Ms. Shamblin herself said she prayed about everything, right down to what she was going to wear that day. “Oh Jesus,” she said in kind of a moaning tone of voice while waving her arms in the air, “in your infinite wisdom, show me what I should wear today.” Of course, if Jesus had picked out the color of her lipstick - (the scariest shade of red I’ve ever seen) - it makes me rather happy to be an agnostic.

Anyway, Ms. Shamblin gave Tyra a lesson in how to eat on the Weigh Down program, which involved eating one tortilla chip in no fewer than four bites (my mouth is too big), taking a sip of something in between every bite (that seems to be a considerable time waster), and to chew … a lot. I guess the logic behind it is true; it takes the brain twenty minutes to process feeling full, and let’s be honest, most of us tend to gobble down food in a quarter of that time. I’m not so sure about the whole, “God created sweets and junk food, but God has a special way for me to eat it and lose weight” thing. But really … who knows? If it’s working for the followers of Weigh Down, then more power to them. I’ll just stick to swimming and trying not to order take-out every night.

I got a surprise last week when a random young man called me and informed me that he was calling on behalf of a certain acquaintance of mine to complete her federal background investigation. The surprise was based upon two factors: one, that she hadn’t told me she had put me down as a reference, and two, that we haven’t spoken since a drama-filled fallout back in autumn of last year. That was the last time I’ve spoken with her, and to be honest, she’d largely slipped from my mind save for the occasional reminder by the feed on the Facebook main page.

The man came by last night for our meeting, which lasted about half an hour. He asked all the usual questions - “How do you know her?,” “Has she ever worked for a foreign government?,” “Has she ever been a member of an extremist group?,” and so forth. Nothing major. With some of the questions, like those relating to drugs and alcohol abuse, I think I may have had more problems answering if the person in question weren’t so straight-edged. Anyway, I gave my recommendation and thus did my civic duty. I just thought it was random.