Glass: My Favorite DELETED Scenes

 

Glass movie poster: a feeble Elijah Price sits in his wheelchair bathed in purple light; an anxious Hedwig leans forward in his chair, garbed in yellow and in a beam of bright yellow light; David Dunn is as relaxed as one can be while chained to the floor, in green scrubs and under an antiseptic greenish hospital light. Mirrored under each of the three is their alter-ego: Mr Glass stands tall and proud in his signature purple coat and leather, The Beast is stripped to the waist, muscles rippling, and The Overseer is hooded in his green slicker, a shadowy protecor.

There are a handful of movies coming in 2019 that will be getting this treatment, but I can’t say I’m as excited about any of them as I was for Glass.* And despite a poorly-timed release** I came away happy.

 

But!

 

I also feel sorry for all of you!  Because you didn’t get to see all the incredible deleted scenes, and I feel like they really add something—don’t they always?

 

Here then are my favorite deleted scenes from Glass, probably in no particular order… although I make no promises because frankly I’m getting hangry and you know how I get when I’m hangry.

(from Split) The Beast (James McAvoy) bares bloodied teeth as he bends iron bars of a cell

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I MUST Planner

 

Having spent much of 2018 half-assing this planner thing I was fully prepared, throughout the month of December, to abandon the experiment in 2019.  After all, I reasoned, these new good habits are mine and I’ve been holding myself accountable long enough now that I don’t need to see it written down on a piece of paper to keep plugging away, right?

Archer Lana says nope

 

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So. Many. Updates!

 

Let’s start today with something good: I have a clean front door—no gross sign!

 

crowd of The Simpsons characters cheering on the sidewalk

 

The inspection was actually before Christmas, but there was a lot going on at the same time and what with one thing and another I didn’t get around to telling you.  Partly because—in the manner we’ve come to expect from Sham Property Management Inc, LLC—even after the house “passed” and everything was “done” the final step took for goddamned ever.

 

I’ve got some possible Meth Ghost news to get to, so I won’t bore you with the details.*

 

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Actual Conversations With Alexa

 

Because I am a delightful mass of contradictions, no one can predict which technologies I will embrace the instant they are available and which ones I will shun until a loved one drags me, kicking and screaming, into the century of the fruitbat.*

 

Example: though I complain about delays of microseconds** everywhere else in my life, I will beta test any game that appeals even a little bit.  I also howled in frustration when my phone wasn’t one of the first hundred or so delivered.  But I only agreed to download the goddamned parking meter app because A) the meter charged my card double the day before and B) I forgot my wallet and it was my turn to pay for parking again.  No choice there, and I was getting shame for not having already done it.

 

Also, I only just got an Echo for Christmas.

 

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My Fall Risk

 

If you are a married person, or a person who is in a long-term relationship, or a person who loves someone very much…

 

cute couple

 

Or even just a person who loves a good laugh at the expense of another human being…

Liar Liar Jim Carrey laughing at annoyed woman

I cannot recommend enough the experience of being The Driver for someone who is having an outpatient procedure requiring general anesthesia.

 

I know, I know… you need me to back up.

 

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2019: In With a Sniffle

 

I really want to give you something special today.  I want to start 2019 off with a bang, you know?

 

But here’s the thing: I’m sick as a fucking dog* and dealing with some serious post-holiday blah on top of it all.

 

This was our first Christmas with Offspring as a (welcome!  So very welcome we almost didn’t let him leave) “visitor” rather than a permanent installment in our home, and now my holiday season has an official end: the day he leaves.  Always before, I was content—determined, even—to keep my tree and my carols and my lights going as long as would be permitted by Husband, the neighbors, and local laws.  But when I hugged Private Squdgee Booboo goodbye (and went right back to bed because his flight was at bullshit o’clock) I had no further desire to light the tree.  It’s not that I’m over Christmas, it’s just… it all looks sort of sad now that he’s not here.  Like a Who house after the Grinch left; all hooks and wire and crumbs.

(How the Grinch Stole Christmas) sad Who house, all stripped bare of Christmas cheer and decor following a visit from the Grinch; wires and scraggly bits of tinsel hang from hooks and the hearth is bare

 

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