Archive for June, 2011

Reviewing Reviews

June 28, 2011

How come nobody rates critics? That’s just not fair. Here comes the revolution!

For Cars 2:

  • “The rare sequel that improves on its predecessor, this lightning-paced caper-comedy shifts the franchise into high gear with international intrigue, spy-movie spoofery and more automotive puns than you can shake a stickshift at…” -Justin Chang, Variety

Really, Justin Chang? Well, I give your review a D. Turns out, if you found the one automotive pun Cars 2 didn’t use, then it’s probably stupid. Also, Cars 2 sucks, and Variety usually hates everything, so this positive review is off-putting and makes me uncomfortable.

  • “How fucking sad this movie is.” -Rob Humanick, Projection Booth

A+, Rob. Concise, simple, and explicit. Claps to you.

For Mr. Popper’s Penguins:

  • “The director, Mark Waters, moves things briskly along and lets the charming absurdity of penguin behavior rise to its inherently good-natured heights.” -Bruce Diones, New Yorker

Why would you recommend this movie, Bruce? We all saw the trailer. And none of us cared. It’s a recession. Tell people to save their money, go to the library, and read the book for free. Or, better yet (since reading is awful), go back a good 17 years and watch Jim Carrey w/ various critters in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective (no, not the sequel where he’s birthed from a mechanical rhino’s asshole). At least that movie doesn’t play animal favorites. C

For Transformers: Dark of the Moon

  • “It’s a momentous achievement and it will make untold amounts of money and you should see it even though it’s hateful and empty and preaches the worst kind of reactionary violence without even really meaning it.” -Andrew O’Hehir, Salon.com

Talk about mixed signals. Perhaps all the explosions and fire and 3D melted your brain a little, Mr. O’Hehir. But I give you some props. You still hated on Michael Bay a little. B-

For Beyonce’s new album, 4:

  • “Beyoncé is such a force of nature that it’s easy to overlook her trump card: She’s a bit of a weirdo. Not a weirdo like her stiffest competition, Lady Gaga. (Wearing sirloin to an awards show isn’t B’s style.) Her weirdness is musical – it’s in the idiosyncratic way she syncopates her vocals, the odd melodies she floats over rugged beats, her sui generis mix of rap bravado, gospel sanctimony and old-fashioned showbiz razzle-dazzle.” -Jody Rosen, Rolling Stone

I’m not exactly sure what you’re saying, Jody. But it sounds right, and you used the term “razzle-dazzle.” Hard to hate on that. B+

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My New Favorite Drug

June 23, 2011

I’ve discovered something new and wonderful. I don’t know how I ever made it through the day without it. It is truly amazing.

Coffee.

Also known on the streets as Starbucks, Coffee Bean, Intelligentsia, liquid crack, Joe, java, pick-me-up, etc.

I don’t know how I survived this long without drinking coffee. No wonder I hated my life. This stuff turns your frown upside down, then pins your cheeks up and glazes your eyes over as you speed-walk with a cartoon trail of fire following you from errand to errand while you change lives and save the world with an energetic fury like nothing this world has ever seen! Soon enough it’s four o’clock in the afternoon and you can’t help but wonder: where has the time gone? Did I walk with purpose right into the future?

Seriously, this shit makes me feel like I’m in a Wachowski Bros movie. Everything around me is in slo-mo while I’m dodging bullets and shooting sentinels.

So far today I’ve had four cups of iced coffee and two sodas. It’s only four o’clock. I’m floating.

Not only have I completed all my tasks on my to-do list (if you’ve read my blog or know anything about me you know I have a passion for lists!), but I’ve also been alternating between six games of Words With Friends, setting up meetings, reading reviews about how much Cars 2 sucks (called it), urinating, and brewing more coffee.

No, really. I’m actually levitating while I type this. I’m also a little twitchy… and I don’t think I’ve blinked since 9:30 this morning. Freaking. Awesome.

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“Hunch Review” of: Cars 2

June 22, 2011

Boy, is this movie gonna blow! I can’t even tell you!

Seriously though, I hate this movie. I haven’t even seen it and I know I hate it. It doesn’t mean I won’t see it. But if I do it means I’m a masochist.

The first Cars sucked something fierce. It was the first (and only) Pixar film to drop below 90 percent on Rotten Tomatoes’ “tomatometer.” But who cares what critics think! Here’s why it totally sucked balls:

(ahem)
IT. DOESN’T. MAKE. SENSE.

How can a world of cars EXIST without any humans? I mean, what the fuck!?  I know,  I know. It’s a cartoon. It’s allowed to break the rules of reality. But I mean, come on! Breaking reality and completely ignoring it all together are two different things! And ignorance is lazy and unforgivable. Other Pixar films have a delicious blend of reality and fantasy. They’re like the perfect soft-serve vanilla-chocolate swirl cones of storytelling, delicately blending the real world (whether it be a wannabe chef in Ratatouille, the harshness of nature in Finding Nemo and A Bug’s Life, or the bully-next-door in Toy Story), with incredibly detailed and elaborate fantasy worlds (the toy chest, the monster world just beyond your closet door, the rat-infested Parisian sewage system, you get the idea).

Cars, however, decided to completely skip out on the human/natural world and instead opted for a world that looks exactly like the dullest parts of podunk USA but with…… just cars. Wait, what? Cars but no humans? Then what the fuck’s the point?

There are so many holes in the logic it hurts:

  • Who made the cars?
  • Do cars get it on and have car babies?
  • Where do the car moms push out the car baby?
  • Where’s the car penis?
  • Is homosexual car love frowned upon?

But enough with the reproductive stuff. How’s about:

  • Who is driving the car? There has to be someone in the driver’s seat, right? No? Fine.
  • If there are only cars, why are there houses? Who lives in the rest of the house? Why does the car like to sleep in a garage attached to an entire, empty, vacant, purposeless house? Also, who built the house? And why is his race extinct?
  • In a flashback montage explaining the history of Route 66, we see how the road was once busy and full of cars, but now sadly it is not. Okay, but if cars liked driving on this road, why did they build other roads? Humans are impatient and don’t get much of a thrill from driving, but I’d assume cars (a) like to drive and (b) don’t really have much else on their agenda for the day. So why did they build a big freeway to get them more efficiently from city to city (do these cities exist without people? ‘Cause that’s weird.) if the reason they drive is for the thrill of it?

And here’s where it really gets me:

  • Car bugs. WHAT.

There’s a scene where we see little “beetles” (VW-styled cars) getting electrocuted by a bug zapper. So, everything in this world is a car? Does that mean when the normal-sized cars are driving fast down the freeway, they get car-bugs squashed against their windshield? Or, to go a step further, are there other car-type animals? Car deer? Car cows? (they do go “tractor tipping.”) Or even… car people?? Or are the cars the “car people”? Whatever the case may be, it’s stupid and I hate it. So, Pixar, you have fun with your little cash cow. But when all’s said and done, what’s worth more? Money or reputation? I hope it’s the former because the latter just got hit hard. Like a car-bug hitting a windshield: SPLAT. (or whatever-the-fuck sound that makes. Jesus Christ.)

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Incoherent Ramblings On: Relationships

June 20, 2011

Here’s a love poem I found recently:

I miss your soft lips. I miss your white sheets.
I miss the scratch of your un-shaved face on my cheek.
And this is so hard cause I didn’t see
that you were the love of my life and it kills me.
I see your face in strangers on the street.
I still say your name when I’m talking in my sleep.
And in the limelight, I play it off fine.
But I can’t handle it when I turn off my night light.
Remember the time we jumped the fence when
the Stones were playing and we were too broke to get in.
You held my hand and then made me cry while
I swore to God it was the best night of my life.
Or when you took me across the world, we
promised that this will last forever but now I see.
It was my past life, a beautiful time
Drunk off of nothing but each other till the sun rise.
They say that true love hurts, well this could almost kill me.
Young love murder, that is what this must be.
I would give it all to not be sleeping alone.
The life is fading from me while you watch my heart bleed.
Young love murder, that is what this must be.
I would give it all to not be sleeping alone.

For some reason, this poem threw me for a loop. I don’t get emotional very often. In fact, for the most part I’m pretty much a soulless shell of a human being. But hearing this brought a lot of emotions to the surface.

You see, when it comes to love, it really is the small things that we take for granted. Oh, sure. That gorgeous watch you got me for my birthday was beautiful. And yes, of course that Elton John concert was unforgettable. But, honestly, those things don’t remind me of you. The watch reminds me of how late I usually am and the Elton John concert reminds me of The Lion King.

When a relationship ends, who says “I miss all the stuff he used to buy me…” or “I miss the dates we went on…”? If you’ve ever said that about a relationship, chances are you (a) didn’t really love the person, or (b) are extremely shallow.

Here are the things you will miss:

  • being close to them. Whether it’s their “soft lips” or their “un-shaved face” on your cheek.
  • their laundry. If you stayed with them for a long time, especially the scent and feel of their linens.
  • the sound of their voice and the subtle, quirky characteristics in their expressions (i.e. the face they make when they look in the mirror, after they do something silly, etc.)
  • not the actual concert, but the feeling. As in the case of this poem, the understanding that it was the best night of the writer’s life,  regardless of the band or the venue or the song. It’s because the person she loves is holding her hand in what couldn’t be a more perfect moment.
  • the feeling of comfort, of safety, when sleeping with someone who loves you.

So, Poet, thank you for writing something so relatable and heart-breaking. Now if only you took that stupid dollar sign out of your name and stopped singing about booze, glitter, and semen through a poorly-disguised auto-tuned filter, maybe people would take you more seriously.

It’s Ke$ha, by the way. The Harold Song was written by Ke$ha.

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Poor

June 17, 2011

I’m so broke that…

  • for dinner last night I ate a container of cottage cheese.
  • I steal internet from someone in my neighborhood. It’s spotty but it works on occasion, when the breeze is just right.
  • I lived on an inflatable mattress for over a year. When mine popped I had to borrow a friend’s.
  • sometimes I stay at work after hours to catch up on Hulu.
  • I use the bathroom at work so I don’t have to buy toilet paper.
  • I drive out of my way to get to the cheapest gas station. By the way it’s on Sunset just east of the 101.
  • I tell my friends the coin-operated laundry machines at my apartment are broken so I can use their free ones.
  • all my hard alcohol is in plastic containers.
  • my social calendar is Groupon-dependent.
  • I play Scrabble a lot.
  • when my roommate complains about money, it makes me feel good for a hot second.
  • I’m not above taking somebody’s leftovers in the office fridge.
  • I eat beans from a can. And I like it.

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My Friends Suck.

June 17, 2011

Last night I:

  • got too drunk.
  • took the bus to West Hollywood with my roommate and our friend.
  • Did something. I guess.
  • Hopped on the bus back home by myself while they ate pizza.
  • Got off way too far east.
  • ran two miles home.
  • LOST MY PHONE.

This is my third phone in nine months. All because I’m irresponsible. So I celebrated by treating myself to a white iPhone. Because I’m trendy like that.

I also had to get a new phone number. So I put up on my facebook wall exactly this: “Hey, you! If you love me, or want me to call you ever, you should text me at ***-***-**** with your name and a witty one-liner about how irresponsible I am!”

Four people texted me.

Freaking. Awesome.

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Reasons Why My Life is Freaking Awesome This Week

June 15, 2011

1. I saw Florence and the Machine last night at the Greek. She was great! Go see her and her machine if you can. Worth every penny.

2. I now have HBO Go on my computer. This may be the last blog update I ever post.

3. I carried five miso soups from the parking structure to my office at lunch time without spilling a single drop on my clothing. Eat your hearts out, ninja waiters.

4.  I’ve already bought and mailed my dad his Father’s Day card, along with a burned copy of Adele’s “21″ CD that I personally duplicated myself. Best. Son. Ever.

5. One of my bosses changed his mind, so I got to eat one of the aforementioned miso soups.

6. It’s been two days since my gums have bled while brushing my teeth.

7. I bought some pretty sick lamps at the Pasadena Rose Bowl Flea Market. I don’t know why I get so excited about lamps, but I do. I get excited about a lot of otherwise mundane things, according to my roommate. Sandwiches, vacuums, when I get fucking awesome street parking, etc. But hey, sometimes it’s the little things that make our lives freaking awesome. And then sometimes we tell ourselves it’s the little things to keep our denial going strong.

THINGS THAT FAILED TO KNOCK ME OFF MY AWESOME HORSE:

1. I got a parking ticket while picking up other peoples’ lunches yesterday. Goodbye $68. Goodbye two tanks of gas. Goodbye 34 bottles of Two Buck Chuck. Goodbye 1/5 of a round-trip plane ticket home to visit my family in Washington State. Goodbye 2 tickets to The Naked and Famous at the Music Box this summer. Goodbye fun weekend of drinks and debauchery in WeHo. And hello to “dieting” (or “eating less” or “not buying groceries”). Hello library. Hello window shopping. Hello sss… sssssa… sobriety.

2. My ex-roommate sent me my half of our old security deposit to my address, but for some reason the USPS returned it to him today. I want my money!

3. I haven’t been very adamant about going to the gym.

4. Constipation.

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Life Lessons From Extreme Makeover

June 14, 2011

This Week’s Lesson: Sometimes homosexuals eat so much while in the closet that they’re never able to squeeze their way out of the door.

So I know this is only my second post and I’ve already mentioned Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition twice now. I don’t feel like I need to justify my reasons for obsessing over this show. If you’re not obsessed than you haven’t seen it yet.

  1. Chris Powell is hot.
  2. Fat people are just the nicest.
  3. Fat-people-turned-skinny are gifts from God.

I guess I did feel the need to justify myself.

This week on Hulu we watched the large-and-not-so-in-charge Dana, a Mid-western African American male go from 500 lbs to 200-and-a-little-extra in a remarkable 43 minutes. Sounds incredible, right?

But that’s not all…

What I’ve already learned from the three episodes I’ve experienced is that morbidly obese people are the way they are for a reason: they eat their feelings. In the episode previous to Dana’s story, Alex was a planet because his mom died and he was grief-stricken. In the first episode, Rachel was eating herself to an early grave for what I assume was a good reason. (I must confess, all I really remember from the first episode is me crying into my bowl of Doritos.)

Dana’s story was especially touching. Sexy man/professional transformer Chris Powell knew Dana was hiding something under all his layers (and layers). Even though he’d be working his ass off, exercising to the point of complete exhaustion, he’d still sneak ice cream and cakes and fast food any chance he got. When Chris first confronted Dana about his inner demons, Dana was quick to jump to the whole “I was abused as a child” excuse. But I didn’t believe it. And neither did Chris.

Dana was fat because he was homosexual (Hello, his name is Dana!). He’d been in the closet for 45 years, and he decided to come out on the show after losing over 100 lbs. Now, many people may think that his being in the closet was a completely separate issue from him breaking a heavy sweat every time he bent down to put on his shoes. But it’s not, I assure you.

I have quite a few friends who lost a lot of weight as soon as they came out. Or maybe didn’t lose weight, but started caring a lot more about their physical appearance and their quality of life in general. The psychology is really quite simple: if you can’t attract men because you’re in the closet, but don’t want to attract women because lady-bits are scary, then the simple solution is to over-consume. If you’re not attractive to anyone, then at least you rid yourself of both temptation and awkward excuses for being picky (i.e. Having red hair yourself and not dating women with red hair because you don’t want to have “purebreds.” Yes that excuse exists. I’ve used it.).

So, once again, I applaud Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition for taking on several different issues at once. I would have simply flipped on the Huley to get another fix of fat people getting skinny. But this time I watched someone skinny up enough to finally kick that closet door down and walk out with pride, without even breaking a sweat.

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