The second Harry Potter was slightly disappointing in all the wrong places, but mostly just delightful. I giggled into my mother's shoulder throughout, delighted anew at Draco Malfoy (and the larger, more elegant version), and cheered on Kenneth Branagh, who was obviously having the time of his life. Rupert Grint (Ron) was obviously in the midst of his voice breaking, poor chap, but he makes it work for him.

Who was the jaw-droppingly gorgeous woman sitting next to Snape in the final scene? I want to be her.

Also, while I'm asking questions: What is with the sudden proliferation of ego-wank rap-artist movies? Be a rapper, get a movie. (On the other hand, be an actor, release a single. Since when could Jennifer Love Hewitt sing?)

Other notes from the day:
- Underwear shopping with mother. Fun.
- Friedrich Nietzsche did not single-handedly slay God, but I'm sure he'd be flattered at the notion.
- Was that a broken toilet or a water feature?
- Either I wasn't built for chairs or chairs weren't built for me. Which is more likely?