No Spoilers Here (I swear this is not exclusively about Harry Potter!)

A primitive pleasure gripped my insides this morning on discovering that Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince outdid both The Dark Knight and Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith in midnight ticket sales, pulling in a new midnight release gross record of $22.2 million (despite the fact that none of that money belongs to me... well, no money if I stop to think about that one). What IS in my possession is the unnatural pride spewing from my being as a fan, something I'm sure is mightily annoying to anyone who doesn't care as much. I didn't order my tickets a month and a half ago for nothing. I didn't stand in line in front of two borderline ancient women wearing Gryffindor robes when, let's face it, they were clearly either Hufflepuff or Slytherin according to what they were saying and the fact that they kept trying to push their way past my house elf and I, as though that were a feasible thing to do when manic fandom practically spurts itself from my ears any chance it gets.
Let's just say I adored the film. I understand not much can be done about creating something exactly like the book, which is why I've always come to regard the films with a different pleasure. To understand why David Yates succeeded with this film and the last requires a movie-watcher's pleasure, not a book-reader's, though I am a book-reader first and foremost. This is the reason for the word 'creation'. It's a new creation using an opposite medium. If it weren't, people who are angry about the films would have no other choice but to be satisfied with someone sitting on film, reading everything the book says and acting out each character. What they actually have done was bloody brilliant, I believe.
In other news, I've set up my desk in the new house, against my vivid purple wall, and I've hung up three things (only three? astounding for a hanger upper like me!) so far if you care to have a looksie at this mediocre photo taken with my 'puter's camera:

On the far left is a small hand drawing of an Angry Woebot that my cousin Cissifer had drawn for me from the artist himself, Aaron Martin. In the middle is a picture of Kate Winslet, who is one of the sole reasons I wish to act in life. On the right is my receipt from when I bought Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at its midnight release those two long years ago. If you're thinking about de-friending me now, I understand. Who else do you know that saves a book receipt for that long?
Notwithstanding, these are things that mean something paramount to me, and I am happy to have hung them up as the first additions to my new favorite wall.
PS: there is no irritating-man-standing-on-his-back-porch-smoking when I look out my windows these days. Thought I'd just give you an update, for those of you who knew about that little travesty from a while back!