St. Arnold, please have mercy.


In two days time fellow blogger Amy S and I are going to be throwing ourselves headlong into the beer festival Oktoberfest. I feel I can trust you enough to admit I am rather apprehensive,  and googling the above picture and more like it have done nothing to quell the nervous excitement that keeps bubbling up at inappropriate times.

Luckily after four days of liver destroying amounts of beer, drunk Germans (and lets not forget all the drunk Aussies for that matter) we are going to spend a relaxing four days in Berlin. Drinking an unholy amount of beer (a very different quantity to ‘liver destroying’, my fellow alcohol enthusiasts get it) and exploring everything Berlin has to offer. As this will be my second visit to this amazing city I am very much looking forward to what more delights I’ll be able to discover, now that I’ve already seen the major tourist draws.

I suppose I’d better drag myself away from the warm embrace of my laptop and pack and while I’m at it I’ll say a little prayer to St. Arnold, the Belgian patron Saint of beer, for a safe and happy trip.


Life after Sharknado

It's moments like these that make good movies, great.

It’s moments like that one that make a good movie, great. And Sharknado was, indeed, great. Not generally being a fan of whatever the hell genre films like this fall into ( Animal revenge-gore- comedy? That’s a genre, right?) but I am sure glad I allowed myself to be talked into giving it a go. Whcih wasn’t that difficult to do, I’m a pushover.

The plot of Sharknado, if you can call it that, is basically tornado sucks up sharks, throws sharks onto unsuspecting Los Angeles citizens. Heros are born, true loves are met and one of the most ridiculous moments in cinema history is made. If you’ve seen the film you know exactly what I’m talking about, but for those yet to experience the joy I’ll not spoil it, except to say there is a chainsaw, a shark with an unusually large stomach and one epic slow mo’ jump. I’ll leave it there though, it’s best to just let the magic happen.

My favourite, for no reason other then just ‘cos, part of this movie was the way the sharks seemed to be maliciously going after the people trying to escape the tornado. I’m not sure why they weren’t worrying more about staying in water and, you know, breathing but these sharks really hated all people and were willing to go the extra mile of rope climbing (actual scene, not even kidding) to get their revenge. I really admired their ‘get up and go’.

An unexpected part of this film was a lack of gender stereotyping. Don’t get me wrong, there are useless bikini clad women aplenty, but it also had it’s fair share of a woman being the hero moments. Give me a shotgun weilding babe anyday and I’ll be happy.

I went into this knowing full well that the acting was going to be sub-par, thin plot, cheesy one liners and unecessary car explosions (did I mention their car blows up. For. No. Reason? I assume the director had adolecent fantasies about running in slow motion from an explosion and just went with it).  It was all those things sure, but somehow it manages to combine it all into a B grade classic.

So if you enjoy your sharks vengeful, your women badass and your plot lines inexplicable then this is the flick for you.

Welcome to Adomania

Adomania is a blog devoted to the adventures and musing of RealLifeSophie! The blog’s namesake ‘Adomonia’ has a very poignant meaning and  is defined by the dictionary of Obscure sorrows below! Life doesn’t have just one theme, and its coming at us faster than we realise; something RealLifeSophie knows all about! Sophie is a traveller,  film fanatic, and creative writer and this bog is devoted to her adventures and thoughts and (hopefully) you can read about her adventures and musings here!

Love, xxx

Oh Adomania


n. the sense that the future is arriving ahead of schedule, that all those years with fantastical names like ‘2013’ are bursting from their hypothetical cages into the arena of the present, furiously bucking the grip of your expectations while you lean and slip in your saddle, one hand reaching for reins, the other waving up high like a school kid who finally knows the answer to the question.