After all my effort to provide sub-quality entertainment to the lowest common denominator, I am proud to announce the following:
Booyah, grandma! Doing my part to keep America illiterate!
Of Monsters and Monkeys
Everyone's talking about Cloverfield, which I suppose is the blockbuster movie event of January, that month when all the good monster movies come out. I, on the other hand, have zero desire to see the film, not least because I find cryptic, viral marketing not only ineffective, but annoying.
For the past couple of months, I'd walk off the 6 train coming home from work and come face to face with a giant poster depicting lower Manhattan, a dessimated Statue of Liberty and a URL: http://www.cloverfieldmovie.com.
"Oh, monster movie, huh?"
Unfortunately, since "Cloverfield" is such a shit name, by the time I would walk 5 blocks to my apartment, I'd forget it. The conclusions I had to draw were:
- This movie thinks that broken Statue of Liberty imagery is somehow still original.
- New York turns green when threatened
- They REALLY want me to care what this is about, and I don't.
Then I found out it was all filmed on a handheld camera, which is pretty stupid, plot-wise. If you're my friend and we're running from a giant monster, you try and film the event and I'm gonna throw you in the monster's path. There's a time and a place for your stupid hipster artistic bullshit. Armaggedon is not that time. So basically, Blair Monster Project is not high on my list of must-sees.
Alarmingly, this movie is doing well. I don't mean to say that it shouldn't, as I'm sure it's entertaining if you're into that kind of thing. What's scary is that after Blair Witch, this is the second hand-held camera movie that's doing well in the box office, and we all know Hollywood's track history. In the words of Breathless Mahoney from my favorite movie of all time:
One is fun, why not two?
And if you like two, you might as well have four,
And if you like four, why not a few, why not a slew more?!
So get ready to barf into your $7 popcorn buckets because I bet we're gonna have a whole load of these things coming our way.
I, for one, will be staying at home watching things like Gorillas in the Mist, which is about as monster movie as I like to get. I watched it last night. Rampaging gorillas are funny, but I was grossed out by how attached Sigourney Weaver got to the monkeys:
Like this, only lesbian
Basically, any sort of movie with animatronic apes in it is fine by me. Animatronic apes working a handheld camera trying to document some horrible disaster, though, I dunno. Moving up and down at a steady pace from one perspective for an hour and a half doesn't scream epic to me.
Celebrity Decomposition Watch
Chris, whose blog I stalk, mentioned that horrible deaths happen in threes.
Brad "Huck" Renfro, teen dreamboat who, when I was 13 or so, made more than just my heart throb, and Heath Ledger, who didn't need to star in a movie for me to imagine him screwing Jake Gyllenhaal, both died needlessly this month. Chris asks "who's next?" but my question is more specific: Which masturbatory fantasy is next to be rendered flaccid with images of decomposing, drug-wasted faces and guilt pangs about disrespecting the dead?
I'm running out of ammo here! ... wait wow no, let me rephrase that. I'm running out of fodder here!
Ryan Gosling
Listen up, God! I've decided to believe in you for a few minutes so I can something off my chest. You didn't make up ALL the rules, and you seem to have forgotten some. For one, the young and the pretty do not die suddenly of drug overdoses. If that's gonna happen, it has to happen slowly like with Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, and Amy Winehouse. We want slow decay and a media circus long enough so that we're no longer attracted to the victim and are happy to be able to talk about something else. Thanks. Ok, go back to what You were doing; I'm gonna forget about You again.
Anyway, it is with a heavy heart that I announce my candidates for the next Hot Celebrity Drug Overdose:
Eric Bana
Ryan Gosling -- I admit he looked a little better when he was younger, but he's still pretty, he's a good actor, and his "Young Hercules" was sort of a bridge between Renfro in my youth and Ledger in my young adulthood, not to mention that the show is in the same box as Ledger's "Roar." If you haven't seen Young Hercules, then... well that's really ok. Anyway, for me he has too much in common with the two who already ate it. HIGH RISK
Johnny Depp -- It would be SO LIKE this asshole world to take my man from me. He's too talented, too hot, and too smart. SUPER HIGH RISK
Eric Bana -- Eric is my current Sexiest Man Alive, and thanks to a new friend, I have an entire folder of pictures of him on my desktop. For the record, I prefer him "with beard" but when he shaves it, I'm ok with that too because my love transcends the physical. If he died, I'd kill myself, and that's probably why he's HIGHEST RISK
So say goodbye. There's another week and a day left until the end of January, which I've decided is the cutoff. I want to be proven wrong.
SAY NO TO DRUGS!
Saturday Morning CarTube: Hedgehog in the Fog
This is a Russian cartoon by Yuri Norstein called Hedgehog in the Fog. It's quite beautiful and a bit unsettling, and I think you should take 10 minutes to watch it and listen to the clarineterrific score that accompanies.
Something from the comments:
martijnkerk
Reply | Spam
I see myself in the hedhoge in the end with his friend bear is stil simple and doesn't think about all those bigger thinks.
Oh please. He's from the Netherlands, so this isn't a comment on his crap English, but 90% of people who claim they're more insightful and thoughtful than everyone around them are completely deluded. You should get to know your friends better, martijnkerk.
Also, the part where the hedgehog lost his satchel reminded me of last night when I LOST MY iPOD AND BRAND NEW EXPENSIVE EARPHONES so you can all deposit your sympathy in the comments.
Potty Humor
Check out this e-mail I just got at work:
During the recent maintenance of the 2nd floor staff lavatories, which have been experiencing back ups, facilities removed several items such as: a library I.D. card, plastic utensils, fruit(lemons, limes) and a pair of beige panty hose from a toilet in the south staff lavatory. In order to provide continuous service, please refrain from depositing anything other than material for which the toilets are intended.
This has served to confirm my theory that librarians are insane, socially retarded, and unfit to live in civilized society. They flush fruit down the toilet. Don't you love it?
The Lake of Innisfree
Though not in the vapid style of the rest of this blog, I want to share a video I found this morning. It's William Butler Yeats and "The Lake of Innisfree". This guy on YouTube made a bunch of videos with old recordings, many of poetry readings. Not all of them work, but this one's pretty mesmerizing.
I wish the mouth weren't moving because it looks ridiculous, but if you just listen to it, it captures... something.
Fundie Quotes
I found a site with quotes from some of the more idiotic fundamentalist Christians talking on Internet forums. These are hilarious. But mostly creepy
Here's my favorite from the first bunch:
"I am a bit troubled. I believe my son has a girlfriend, because she left a dirty magazine with men in it under his bed. My son is only 16 and I really don't think he's ready to date yet. What's worse is that he's sneaking some girl to his room behind my back. I need help, God! I want my son to stop being so secretive!"
Top 5 Reasons I Am Fed Up with Men
5. Ben didn't call me back.
The bastard.
4. I can't seem to get a blind date.
And by blind, I mean literally. There's nothing hotter to me than seeing a guy wave that stick thing around. Blind boyfriends come with advantages beyond the luxury of not having to look good every day. For one, they can't check out other guys unless you describe them first. Further, if you catch them flirting with someone, you can just say "Don't be fooled, he's looks like Lily Tomlin" and that's the end of it. And most importantly, you can sneak out of the house unnoticed, and by the time they realize it, you'll be halfway to whatever illicit activity suits your fancy. Just make sure to take the stick thing with you so they can't follow. I think it doubles as a dowsing rod for treachery.
The only drawbacks to a blind boyfriend are that they break everything and they can't tell what you're feeling without touching your face. I can live with that. If there are any blind boys reading my blog... I mean listening to it on JAWS (dun dahn dun dahn dun dahn), get a friend to click the comments link and hit me up. I'm a single non-smoker. I'm also a man, incidentally, but that shouldn't matter either way. If you're heterosexual, I can speak in a high-pitched voice and whine about my feelings a lot, and you won't know the difference.
3. I'm having a Penis Ugly Week.
I go through these phases now and then where I think penises are ugly and sex is gross. They never last long, but they're pretty intense. I usually try to get over it by looking at my "favorite" videos on xTube, but when I tried that this morning all I could think was: "Oh, sick! I can't believe I used to DO that." A few days without touching myself and it will pass. They're usually followed by heavily slutty phases, so get ready.
2. The only relationship-oriented men are the boring and the ugly.
Every unappealing man I meet wants a boyfriend. Every charismatic, attractive man I meet wants to screw and have fun. Nobody can explain this to me. Having felt intensely relationship-oriented this past month or so, I can only imagine I've become boring. Because I'm still hot.
There are exceptions to every rule, so don't get offended if you're relationship-oriented. If we're friends, your attractive, ok? I'm too shallow for anything else.
1. I don't have one.
Surprise! Believe it or not, this entire post comes from a place of loneliness and self-loathing! Waah waah waah, where's MY validation? Oh, that's right, my validation didn't call me back. (See above.) If you need me, I'll be cursing men, renouncing love, and spending the rest of my life alone like those women you read about.
Yeah, it's called "being empowered." Look it up.
From Chaka Khan discussing her upcoming role as Sofia in Broadway's The Color Purple:
Q. Religion is important in “The Color Purple.” Are you a Scientologist?
A. I’m not, never was, never will be. I belong to the religion of the Church of Chaka Khan, and I practice it every day.
Ben and Arthur: Convo Movie Review
me: I'm watching the most shit movie right now.
Kevin: what movie?
me: Ben and Arthur.
Kevin: I've never heard of it
me: I got it on Netflix. It's the number one worst movie of all time according to imdb user ratings.
Kevin: awesome i love bad movies
me: Yeah. It's about a gay couple. The guy who made it is playing one of them. He's fat and bald, and he paired himself with this dreamboat to be his partner. It's SO fake.
Kevin: omg omg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxKByXGC890
is that the trailer?
me: It was made with amateur equipment.
Kevin: that's not a movie, that's a home video
me: YEAH!
That's it.
Isn't it horrible?
Kevin: that's awesome!!
everyone has gay face
LMAO
I love it
me: Right?
It's amazing.
Kevin: i'm watching the trailer again
hehe
for ben and arthur
its like a porno with no sex
me: And a fat guy.
Ooh, they're dishwashers at a cafe together.
OMG Fatty's auditioning to be an exotic dancer.
Kevin: hahaha
are they consciously being bad?
me: No, I believe 100% that they're taking themselves seriously.
(hottie looks less like a crack fiend in the movie)
me: Ooh, a sexy!
Kevin: a what?
me: A sexy.
He's a PI apparently.
But he's hot.
He's a gaywad too.
But I don't think his character is supposed to be gay.
Kevin: is he the blonde dude in the trailer?
me: No, that's Victor, the brother who hates gays for religious reasons.
He hired the PI.
Kevin: nice
me: Now they're meeting at night and I hope they do it.
Kevin: oh you know they will
(there aren't any screen caps on the net so I'm stretching for graphic dividers here, ok?)
me: "I don't make sense? You don't make sense! I make sense, that's who makes sense!"
Kevin: lol wut?
me: Dialogue sample.
Kevin: It sounds like they're doing it as a joke!
me: But it's not
me: Eew, fatty shower scene. I can't believe I'm so engrossed in this.
Kevin: HAHA
you STILL watching that?
gosh!
me: Yeah, the minutes are inching by.
Kevin: did fatty get it on with someone?
me: No, he was just showering.
He's in it to win it with the hottie.
Who just got shot AGAIN.
Kevin: why does he keep getting shot
me: Blondie does it.
Or arranges it. I'm not really sure.
This one he did.
I want the PI back.
Kevin: what does he look like?
me: He's like 19 with a twinky face, brown hair, and thick eyebrows.
Eew, more naked for fatty.
Kevin: why is he getting naked so much?
me: EEW BUTT SHOT!
I DON'T EVEN KNOW!
God.
Again!
Kevin: hahaha
me: Man, the last 10 minutes of this movie are like Fattie'sbuttapalooza.
Kevin: that's so disturbing
maybe he wants to advertise his ass
me: Oh, it'sover.
Kevin: how did it end?
me: Bloodbath.
Oh, he made it with Adobe Premiere.
Bowel Movement #1: Affetuoso
Without commenting on the prospect of becoming a screenshot whore, I wish to share another. Often at around 6 a.m. when I get up, I like to check my site statistics from the day so far to see what people search for in the wee hours. Today, I was thrilled to find an idea for a new invention that's bound to make me a gabillionaire.
Imagine a bidet that plays Rachmaninov and other musical masterworks! Classical music when you're at your least classy! Hum along to Mozart and Beethoven as you enjoy a cool, refreshing spray from below! It's even better than my toothbrush that plays the song from Napoleon Dynamite.
I'm going to contact the Brondell Swash people. Soon I'll be rich. See you on the other side!
Checkin' the Chicken
I use seamlessweb.com every time I order in food for delivery. It's way easier to place an order without being put on hold and deciphering broken English just to have them misunderstand me and bring me something I'm allergic to or that has mushrooms in it.
The site's great, and usually fairly accurate to a restaurant's print or in-house menus. The following, however, threw me:
We're all catching the fact that a whole chicken costs LESS than a half a chicken, right? I mean... right?
What's especially frustrating about this is that I don't want a whole chicken. I could never eat the entire thing, and besides, I like my chicken like I hate my men: dark, fatty, and wet. It's skinny, dry, pale boys for me, and therefore, I wouldn't eat the white meat part.
Plus, I'm afraid it might be a typo, so I got my usual from this place instead of risking the whole chicken and being charged twice as much.
New Year's Resolutions 2008
Keeping in the spirit of years past, I waited a few days before posting my New Year's resolutions to let the "spirit of the season" wear off and life return to normal. Everyone gets all wrapped up in New Year's and makes these stupid resolutions that are at once boring and unattainable. "I will lose 20 pounds this year." Yeah, good luck, cow. "I will be nicer to people and pet animals and feed starving babies." Yeah, not if you're feeding yourself, cow.
Anyway, my resolutions are way better. Last year, there were 14 resolutions (we don't count the last one), and I didn't keep a single one. This year, I hope to build on that success:
- I promise to dress like a rich kid and forego meals to afford to do so. Style and weight-loss in one!
- I promise to call more people cow.
- I promise to continue yelling hateful, racist things at the television when I'm alone. (Guaranteed success.)
- I promise to stop telling people about their friends' weird penises as if it says something about their personalities.
- I promise to finally take the Harry Potter 7 countdown clock off of my blog.
- I promise to stop talking about my hair for 2 seconds (nonconsecutive).
- I promise never again to affect an Australian, British, or Slavic accent and say "I'm not from here" just because I don't feel like giving someone directions.
- I promise to stop shaping meat on my plate into a model of the animal it used to be.
- I promise to stop sleeping with the unemployed.
- I promise to masturbate to a picture of Zac Efron just once to get it out of my system.
- I promise to care about the presidential election. HAHA just kidding, no I don't!
- I promise to read a book to a child. HAHAHAHA, ok, I'm not even taking this seriously anymore. I guess I'm done.
A Celebration
I had to call Laura in the management office today of my apartment complex today, and I was hit in the face with a wet slab of retardation. Let's watch a re-enactment:
Me: Hi, can I talk to Laura?
Girl: What building?
Me: Um, the management office? Your building.
Girl: Wait, what building?
Me: 78/79 York. The management office. She works there. [She's your boss, you stupid cow!]
Girl: Please hold.
[Shakira music. Rock out.]
Girl: Thanks for holding.
Me: ....
Girl: ....
Me: Is this Laura?
Girl: No.
Me: Ummm...
Girl: She's not in the office right now. Do you want her voicemail?
Me: No, I already left her something this morning. Can I just have her direct number?
Girl: That is her direct number.
Me: Yeah, give it to me so I can call later.
Girl: *Connects me to Laura'a voicemail*
How does this species even survive?
Maul of America
This is another perfect reason for neurotic people like my mom and ignorant neurotic people like America to never leave the house again. Every time there's an animal mauling, the news media explodes. People eat this shit up. Pun totally intended.
You may not know it because the article is near impossible to find at this point, but there has been a series of shootings all over New York. Unfortunately, all they get is a crappily-written article with no picture. The animal story has trumped it because being mauled is such a shit way to die. What seems to be forgotten at times like this is that getting shot is ALSO a shit way to die. The problem is that shootings in a big city are so commonplace that nobody wants to hear about them anymore.
Shootings aren't real or interesting unless they happen in a school or a shopping mall or somewhere else where the people are innocent and hopefully healthy, wealthy and white. In other cases, there's this general assumption that if a guy (male) gets shot on the streets of New York, he somehow deserved it. He lived in a bad part of town, he ran with the wrong crowd, he had it coming. Who cares, he was probably on drugs anyway. You barely ever hear "Oh, the humanity!" or "Gun control!" after things like that. The school and mall ones, though? They always spark the same tired debate that goes nowhere.
In a similar vein, why is it that when an adult is killed, it's pretty sad, but when a child is killed, it's "Oh, again, the humanity!" and "He had his whole life in front of him!" And at what age does that shift happen? Does a 30-year-old not also have his life in front of him? And why is it that there's a difference between the death of a 20-year-old man and the death of a 20-year-old college sophomore? You know one tugs at your heartstrings more than the other, which is pretty much proof positive that you're capable of valuing one human life over another, you dick.
Here's a quick-reference guide to how people react to the unnatural deaths of the innocent:
- Elderly death -- "Well, they were gonna eat it soon anyway."
- Middle-aged death -- "Yeah, it happens."
- 30-something death -- "Only sad if he/she was hot."
- 20-something death -- "Pity. What a world."
- Student death -- "What is our society coming to?? How can we let this happen????"
- Child death -- [tears] "An innocent child! I can't even.... please, no... it's too much."
- Baby death -- "I can't believe it! Animal! Why didn't she have an abortion or put it up for adoption?"
- Miscarriage -- "Yeah, it happens. They were gonna eat it soon anyway."
But back to the tiger. That's what this entry was supposed to be about before I got all distracted with how bad I feel that I'm no longer young enough for people to care if I'm murdered.
Anyway, they shot the tiger dead, which I must honestly say I found more upsetting than the death of the man. This is for hippie reasons of the injustice of animal captivity and stuff. Tigers are carnivores. They prey upon the weak by nature. If you're going to put yourself within 50 yards of a tiger, much like mixing with gangs and walking the mean streets of New York, you probably have it coming.
That's not to say that all zoo-goers should be mauled. I like the zoo too. I'm just saying that this is what tigers do. Here's my favorite part of the article:
Officials said that the same tiger, a Siberian named Tatiana, had mauled a zookeeper in front of horrified visitors about a year ago.
Maul me once, shame on you. Maul me twice...
I know the same guy was not mauled twice. Just go with it.
Right, so after this big coup at the zoo, we're going to be hearing all about zoo safety and tiger taming and crap like that. Typical media hooplah. "It could happen to you!" "Wild beasts! In your own backyard?" I hate this stuff, but there it is. They say it's in the name of security and protecting the children and "better safe than snack food", but really it's a sad attempt to make our lame lives sound more interesting.
Don't fall for it. People don't just get mauled. They do, however, just get shot. But that's not so exciting anymore.
Broken Dreams, Broken Glasses
I'm home sick from work today for two reasons. For one, I'm sick. Fever, sniffles, yuckiness, ookiness, all that. Whatever, who cares?
The OTHER reason I'm sick is because I broke my fucking glasses last night! I don't even know what happened! I reached up to adjust them, and the delicate touch of my supple hands caused the "ear attachy stick thingy" to snap right off! I would have been better if I sat on them or stepped on them or something real, but they broke in such a pitiful way that it makes me feel more pathetic.
For any of you who have experienced broken glasses, you know it's the worst feeling in all the world. Worse than being dumped. Worse than losing your job. Worse than accidentally killing your pet. (Hi, Kitty!) To quote my favorite movie, "I felt like my stomach was gonna fall out my butt!"
So I had to sit through all of Grease, the musical, with my hand to my face. Now I'm home sick, feverish, achy, sweating, and legally blind. The only positive thing about this is that it just put "Legally Blonde" (from the musical) in my head, but after about an hour of repeated refrains, that won't be so positive anymore.
So that's my shitty day. Tell me about yours. I bet I win.
Cookie Party?
I'm back from L.A., where I went for the past week and didn't tell you. There are a lot of great stories I could tell you about it, but there is something more pressing I'd like to discuss.
"Somebody brought in cookies!" Ah, those sweet words are a rare cause for celebration here at the office. We get no Christmas bonus, no proper holiday party, and no free coffee machine, so cookies from an anonymous donor are infinitely more exciting in the month of December. When there's something good to eat at work, productivity skyrockets and Jesus smiles, so it was with great relish that I stalked across the room to the cookies only to find that they weren't real cookies but rather OLD PEOPLE COOKIES! I was so pissed, but I decided to eat one anyway just in case these old people cookies were different. They weren't; it was a nightmare!
A colony of Old People Cookies at rest.
In case you don't know, here's a quick lesson in old people cookies from a science and nature magazine I just made up:
The Old People Cookie is a nefarious beast that takes the form of a dry, unadorned, artificially-colored and entirely tasteless lump. Old People Cookies travel in groups called Shitty Gift Boxes. They are nomadic creatures, though they will often settle for brief periods at church receptions, rest home Christmas parties, ghetto blood drives, and the already-occupied houses of old people. Ironically, despite the name, the Old People Cookie has only one natural predator: old people. This is because they produce a natural toxin to which old people are immune. Other species who ingest an Old People Cookie are inflicted with the non-lethal but incapacitating poison that some victims have described as "fucking disgusting." The Old People Cookie is therefore able to enjoy a life relatively free of predation until its natural life cycle ends in staleness, though at what point staleness sets in is often unclear, and the corpse of an Old People Cookie can be passed off as a member of the community for up to 50 years.
I don't know why anybody buys these gross cookies or how the companies that make them haven't a) gone out of business or b) been bombed. The picture above represents how many cookies were on the plate after I took one. It also represents the number left on the plate when I left for the day. NOBODY LIKES OLD PEOPLE COOKIES! STOP TRYING TO FOIST THEM ON US! These were probably a regift of a regift of a gift originally given in 1960.
Fucking Old People Cookies. Fucking old people.
Nobody better bother me because I'm mad.
Flimflammed! Bamboozled! Hoodwinked! Egads, I'm upset!
A friend of mine has seen fit to dangle in front of me a shiny golden trinket, only to reveal later that it resides behind an invisible web of DECEIT!
I was supposed to go to the premiere of There Will Be Blood at the Ziegfeld tonight. I have this spiff new outfit for the occasion (as well as for a show premiere in LA this weekend, but pretend that's not happening to enhance the indignation.) Anyway, it should be clear by the fact that I'm blogging that I'm not wearing my sexy outfit on a red carpet with Daniel Day-Lewis! Instead, I'm sitting at home on my couch ALL BY MYSELF IN MY VOLDEMORT T-SHIRT! Yeah, I was stood up. AM BEING stood up.
Here's a MySpace-style mirror self-portrait to illustrate my annoyance:
Can't you just feel the flames of wrath?
Actually, I'm not in as shitty a mood as I could be, but it sure is fun to pretend. FUCK YOU!
Anyway, since I never post pictures of myself, let's take this opportunity to examine how much I've grown. Here's a closer, less irate, but still slightly constipated-looking shot:
You will notice that my hair is quite a bit longer than it used to be. It has also stayed a vibrant shade of red instead of fading to the anemic strawberry blonde of yestermonth. But mostly, I want to show off my new Voldemort t-shirt that I got on the Internet.
I'd also like to point out my enormous Jew nose, proving my ancestry for those who may think I was born gentile like my "friend" did today.
Anyway, enough examining my face. Put it back in your pants. I'm lookin' at you, Bagel.) I'm in a bad mood for being stood up, so I don't feel like being the object of anyone's affection. Oh, and by the way, observe here the cherry on top of a fabulous evening:
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