|This still doesn't explain why there's a red light at the bottom...|
Line of the week: Not three episodes into Boardwalk Empire and already two blowjob scenes? 1940s? Mo' like the 19blowme's!
Today at 2:27pm: Loading the laundry while singing Madison Avenue's Don't Call Me Baby...from MEMORY!
I watched the wants-to-be-a-real-movie Skyline on Friday morning and though I walked in expecting a mildly entertaining sci-fi action film, I stumbled out feeling like an idiot. This is usually the part where I would say how much of a waste of money it was, but on this particular occasion, I was prepared. During the summer I had gone to see Up in the Air at an early screening for free, and because the movie that was being shown in DIGITAL PROJECTION restarted three times, we all received a pass for a free movie, despite the fact that we hadn't spent money on the first one. Anyways, it was a horrible movie by the pretentious and cliche directors known only ass The Brothers Strauss. The movie is absurd and goes from a science fiction art-ish drama, to an action film to the most ridiculous ending that yields in the message: You can't stop love, because love is in the brain.
It starts off with actors we've seen in commercials and TV shows, all of which are 6-7 on the attractiveness scale, and 3-4 on the personality people-can-relate-to scale. Then we're introduced with aliens, kinda and there's a lot of fighting and small scenes that don't really lead to anything of interest. Eventually the military starts fighting back and we experience all this through a telescope that zooms like a digital camera and can track planes flying at hundreds of miles per hour and nuclear warheads with an amazing amount of success. Then some more arguing happens and some people die and the two main characters fight one of the aliens on the roof of the apartment building that the aliens seem REALLY interested in. If you're wondering what happens, the alien attacks the girl with its giant vaginal lips until her boyfriend/reluctant-father-of-her-child uses his intellect to discover the alien's crucial weakness: excessive punching to the head...which is exactly how he kills it. Anyways, they start getting sad and as the alien ship sucks them up, they kiss as they float up the air like reverse skydiving filmed by Lance Bass. Then the unstoppable power of love is showcased and you get the most ridiculous ending since Next.
I'm reading a book on the life cycle by Erik Erikson, though focusing more on the identity stage through adolescence. It's very nerdy, yes. Hell, I get random urges to read through the week, and I get to my room and grab one of the many books I have laying around that I haven't finished and actively read and make faces as I react to the content! I don't really know when or why I even bought it. As I think about it, however, this is probably my way of dealing with a lack of identity, which is something you'd think I would have worked out by now. Instead, I'm too busy focusing all my hate on ridiculous things like why lesbians, when they've clearly made their choice, still purchase and utilize dildos and other phallic products. If I owned a sex shop, which is an unlikely event, I wouldn't sell a single penis-shaped product to lesbians. They want vaginas 24/7? They can have 'em. As your unelected yet official Guyperson, I vow to never sell anything round to the lesbo community...whether it's real or not! Pick one and stick with it...you're almost as greedy as the bisexuals.
On Saturday, I went to the apartment of a friend (Zack) of a friend (Marc), and was fortunate enough to arrive in the middle of four person jam session. When they finished, they mentioned that their neighbors had complained earlier about how loud they were playing. I had the idea for them to only play Michael Jackson music since it's considered a hate crime to not like it.
Neighbor: Knocks on door
One's self: Hey, what can I do for you?
Neighbor: Well, what you could do for me is turn your damn volume down! Some of us prefer to watch Family Feud, despite the fact that we couldn't tell you who the current host is since they seem to keep quitting every month!
One's self: Hey man, we're playing Michael Jackson covers...and he's dead!
Neighbor: What? I don-
One's self: He's DEAD! As in, never coming back alive.
Neighbor: ...yeah, but you can see him in a documentary and all his songs are on iTunes and I've eve-
One's self: But HE, that person, Michael Jackson, is no longer alive...don't you have any respect for the death of a famous person?
One's self: Well thanks for stopping by, but I've gotta go; this compensation for the lack of a father figure isn't drowned out by itself!
I imagine that's what happens in a world where people think...'n stuff.
They also offered me coffee while I was there and since I don't normally enjoy the java, I said "No thanks," and by limiting my experiences and not doing something out of the ordinary, I have nothing to talk about. See how much life sucks when you say "no"? In a way, it's the MPAA of your brain; unnecessary and rarely-correct self regulation.
I was talking to Billy at Denny's (The restaurant, not the house of someone with the unfortunate name of Denny, which sounds like the homosexual version of Dennis) about technology, and we eventually came upon the topic of scientific advancements. To be precise; scientific advances stemming from the Nazi's experiments during the holocaust. Granted, it's easy to learn about something when you don't care what you do to it, but it's still astounding how much we learned about people through the holocaust. Pun only intended if understood.
My point is this, if I had to be a Nazi, and I'm not saying that I want to be a Nazi (I don't look good in neutral colors). If I was forced to be a Nazi manperson, like through some extravagant series of events where I obviously made the wrong decision time after time or an uncommon financial situation, then I would have to be the guy who pulls the levers that look like Bugs Bunny would use against his enemies. I'm assuming, of course, that I would be living in a world where choosing to be a Nazi would actually be a safer alternative to who know what. One would think pulling the switch that kills would be a horrible job to have, but think about how easy it would be and how high of a status your fellow Nazi-ites would give you.
Now that I'm thinking about the social structure of the Nazi's, I'm curious. I fully acknowledge that no good will eventually become of this, but do you think they kept a record of how many antiNazi's each had killed and boasted it to their friends? As a lever-puller, one would likely always have the highest number while doing the least of the physical work...though burdened to carry a significantly larger emotional workload than the others. Is this an acceptable trade? I would be inclined to disagree, unless you were allowed to say one liners before you pulled said lever. Something like "Ya burnt!" or "Does this open the garage door?" and "Weird, I can't get it this time, it's like something I can't see is trying to sto-Oh, there it goes. Whew, almost had to call the I.T. douchebags, always with their jokes about my insecurity as a man, and that I have to kill hundreds of Jews a day just to feel validated and accepted by the other men in my society that seem to have their shit together. I'm masculine GODDAMN IT!"
That's one insecure Nazi.
This week, I leave you with one of my favorite online videos, Hard Gay. It's an absolute treat for the whole family! Here's the one where he visits the Yahoo! offices, parts 1 and 2. Enjoy! Like Coke!