I'm looking at you Prometheus!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
More Star Trek Star Trek Star Trek Star Trek
Spock just favorably compared Picard to Kirk! Shit just got real...REAL AWESOME!!!!!!!!
Star Trek Star Trek Star Trek Star Trek Star Trek
I'm sorry to let you guys know a whole three hours in but THERE IS A STAR TREK TNG MARATHON TODAY ON BBC AMERICA! Guys, right now it's a Spock episode. IT IS MOTHERFUCKING SPOCK MOTHERFUCKERS! Even Spock would deem my joy totally logical.
'Merica, FUCK YEAH! (Yes I know it's on BBC, but it's BBC 'MERICA, fuck yeah).
'Merica, FUCK YEAH! (Yes I know it's on BBC, but it's BBC 'MERICA, fuck yeah).
Monday, July 2, 2012
This Post Is Kinda About Prometheus, But You Should Read It Anyway
I haven't seen Prometheus but I feel like I have based on all the bitching online and a live text session with my brother as he watched an online bootleg of it. And, whatever, it sounds like a shitty movie and Ridley Scott clearly has Lucas Complex, which makes me sad, but what really irks me is the people online who use the following argument as to why everyone should just shut up about how the science in the movie is not so much science as huge, glaring plot holes:
"It's called science FICTION. DUH!"
Firstly, this is dumb because it has the easiest counter-argument of all arguments ever (including internet arguments so...woah):
"It's called SCIENCE fiction. Dicknuts."
And I guess that brings me to my whole point. There seems to be a percentage of people that think that since something is made up it should have no rules at all. Any one can like or hate any shitty thing they want, I don't care, but when you start spouting that science fiction doesn't need to have any science in it or that you hate the Harry Potter movies because magic shouldn't have rules what you are really saying is that you can't express your appreciation or dissatisfaction for a piece of art like an adult and that things would be different in your movie/book/porn if you weren't too lazy and untalented to make it.
If you have a fantasy story where magic is just "everyone can do whatever they want with no effort" there really isn't any conflict and that is just boring. Science fiction without the science stretches the audience's suspension of disbelief too far and when you have completely unlikable or inconsistent characters (like in Prometheus), the audience either doesn't care or is angry at the time they are wasting.
Here's an example of the result of the "it's fiction and fiction can be whatever and everyone should suspend all disbelief forever" argument:
"Tim robbed a bank in Wyoming. The cops were chasing him so he ran south to Canada where he hid in the arctic wasteland of the Grand Canyon. He was eventually caught and sent to Canadian jail where they make you play hockey and apologize all day."
THAT is fiction without any research or basis in reality at all. Sure, it's awesome because I wrote it, but if you want something to be more than just silly or ridiculous or funny and actually draw suspense, character empathy, and any shred of believability, you need to actually do some fucking research and not just pull shit out of your butt and use it to fill plot holes. A lack of boundaries and consistent rules within the fictional universe throws the viewer out of that fictional universe. It becomes unrelatable because people are used to a world with rules like physics and the certainty that everyone is an asshole. Even if your fictional universe is that no one is an asshole, you can't then be like "except that guy...for some reason...probably because the story needs conflict." The whole story telling experience revolves around the audience feeling like part of the story, which can't happen if they're too busy thinking "Wait, why would an educated scientist take off their helmet on their first trip to an alien planet?" My brother says the CDC should use that part of Prometheus in their video "How to contaminate everything."
To sum up, internal consistency, conflict, and boundaries are why Harry Potter made like a quadbatrillion dollars and has eleventy billion fans while not even your mom will read your series about the boy who can do anything ever in a world where no one is mean and everything always works perfectly and everyone has unicorns that you don't have to feed and that poop rainbows. Also I'm super pissed there were no aliens in the Alien prequel. Facehuggers = wins; black goo and bad science = super shame spiral with regret punch combo. FINISH HIM!
"It's called science FICTION. DUH!"
Firstly, this is dumb because it has the easiest counter-argument of all arguments ever (including internet arguments so...woah):
"It's called SCIENCE fiction. Dicknuts."
And I guess that brings me to my whole point. There seems to be a percentage of people that think that since something is made up it should have no rules at all. Any one can like or hate any shitty thing they want, I don't care, but when you start spouting that science fiction doesn't need to have any science in it or that you hate the Harry Potter movies because magic shouldn't have rules what you are really saying is that you can't express your appreciation or dissatisfaction for a piece of art like an adult and that things would be different in your movie/book/porn if you weren't too lazy and untalented to make it.
If you have a fantasy story where magic is just "everyone can do whatever they want with no effort" there really isn't any conflict and that is just boring. Science fiction without the science stretches the audience's suspension of disbelief too far and when you have completely unlikable or inconsistent characters (like in Prometheus), the audience either doesn't care or is angry at the time they are wasting.
Here's an example of the result of the "it's fiction and fiction can be whatever and everyone should suspend all disbelief forever" argument:
"Tim robbed a bank in Wyoming. The cops were chasing him so he ran south to Canada where he hid in the arctic wasteland of the Grand Canyon. He was eventually caught and sent to Canadian jail where they make you play hockey and apologize all day."
THAT is fiction without any research or basis in reality at all. Sure, it's awesome because I wrote it, but if you want something to be more than just silly or ridiculous or funny and actually draw suspense, character empathy, and any shred of believability, you need to actually do some fucking research and not just pull shit out of your butt and use it to fill plot holes. A lack of boundaries and consistent rules within the fictional universe throws the viewer out of that fictional universe. It becomes unrelatable because people are used to a world with rules like physics and the certainty that everyone is an asshole. Even if your fictional universe is that no one is an asshole, you can't then be like "except that guy...for some reason...probably because the story needs conflict." The whole story telling experience revolves around the audience feeling like part of the story, which can't happen if they're too busy thinking "Wait, why would an educated scientist take off their helmet on their first trip to an alien planet?" My brother says the CDC should use that part of Prometheus in their video "How to contaminate everything."
To sum up, internal consistency, conflict, and boundaries are why Harry Potter made like a quadbatrillion dollars and has eleventy billion fans while not even your mom will read your series about the boy who can do anything ever in a world where no one is mean and everything always works perfectly and everyone has unicorns that you don't have to feed and that poop rainbows. Also I'm super pissed there were no aliens in the Alien prequel. Facehuggers = wins; black goo and bad science = super shame spiral with regret punch combo. FINISH HIM!
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Wednesday Fun-time Commercial Bonanza
The commercial I'm gonna talk about today is just...guys it's just weird. It's the Tostitos commercial with the anthropomorphic bag of chips that is telling the tale of why he changed his shape to scoops. Already that's kinda weird. He's a bag of chips, not a chip. It's like asking someone why they changed the shape of their spleen while the asker is eating the askee's spleen. I admit, I have a problem with most animated, anthropomorphic products. It just doesn't make sense, does the cheese want me to eat a hunk of himself? Or his family? Maybe it's a tactic in anthropomorphic food warfare to get people to eat their enemies. Maybe Twinkie the Kid is manipulating the human race into devouring those that would oppose his mighty and glorious rein as the one, true, and divinely chosen snack cake monarch!
The Tostitos bag though, he goes above and beyond the standard level of weird. He's a little too enthusiastic to get dipped throughout the whole commercial, but nothing exceptionally unnerving. Until the very end, when this happens:
Bag says something about how his (spleen's) new shape makes him able to handle any dip.
Random party goer: "Even this big ol' dickp?"
Tostitos bag: "BRING IT! BRING IT!"
And then the bag vibrates in excitement while his mouth hangs open and his eyes are wide and staring far off, like an expression of pure pleasure.
Which leads me to the question: did I just see a bag of corn chips come. Is...is this porn? Can they show this on television? Did I accidentally turn on a very specific fetish skinimaxesque channel? Am I actually looking at the internet and got confused?
It's weird and gross and uncomfortable, kinda like losing your virginity. So I guess Tostitos just popped our collective snack-food-sex cherries. Well, MOST of us (I'm looking at you, guy who has way too many Chester Cheeta stuffed animals, you sick fuck).
P.S. I have a very good bestie level friend that works for Frito-Lay and so while this commercial is awkward and inappropriate, I encourage each and every one of you to continue to enjoy their fine products. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to enjoy this delicious bag of Cheddar Cheese Sun Chips while I contemplate the sexual politics of intra-snack food copulation and whether the dip is the "top" because it goes on the chip.
The Tostitos bag though, he goes above and beyond the standard level of weird. He's a little too enthusiastic to get dipped throughout the whole commercial, but nothing exceptionally unnerving. Until the very end, when this happens:
Bag says something about how his (spleen's) new shape makes him able to handle any dip.
Random party goer: "Even this big ol' di
Tostitos bag: "BRING IT! BRING IT!"
And then the bag vibrates in excitement while his mouth hangs open and his eyes are wide and staring far off, like an expression of pure pleasure.
Which leads me to the question: did I just see a bag of corn chips come. Is...is this porn? Can they show this on television? Did I accidentally turn on a very specific fetish skinimaxesque channel? Am I actually looking at the internet and got confused?
It's weird and gross and uncomfortable, kinda like losing your virginity. So I guess Tostitos just popped our collective snack-food-sex cherries. Well, MOST of us (I'm looking at you, guy who has way too many Chester Cheeta stuffed animals, you sick fuck).
P.S. I have a very good bestie level friend that works for Frito-Lay and so while this commercial is awkward and inappropriate, I encourage each and every one of you to continue to enjoy their fine products. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to enjoy this delicious bag of Cheddar Cheese Sun Chips while I contemplate the sexual politics of intra-snack food copulation and whether the dip is the "top" because it goes on the chip.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Ugggghhhhh!
So I was going through the archives of this and the mirror zlog at toastygod.wordpress.com and I realized that there were posts on here that weren't there and, unfortunately, vice versa. So here's a post that I originally posted on January 31, 2009 (have I really had this zlog this long? And I only have 2 followers? Probably time to quit) but for some reason didn't make it over here. Or maybe I deleted it. Considering what crap is on here, I doubt I ever deleted anything:
When I’m not off fighting crime or fucking your girlfriend, I work as an Editor for a company that writes business documents for business owners that are too illiterate to write them themselves. Through the course of this employment I’ve seen many affronts to the English language. Wanton and reckless apostrophes, the capitalization of EVERY FREAKING NOUN (because that makes your product seem more important), and, of course, spelling so bad I have to assume the word is in another language or the writer has had a stroke or some other cerebral incident. The most irksome thing I encounter, and encounter on the veritable daily, is complete and abject condescension when the writer clearly has no idea what they are talking about, or isn’t talking about anything at all. Which brings me to the subject of today’s post: Business Buzz Words (see, doesn't it seem more important in caps?).
Business Buzz Words are those words used in the course of business that don’t really mean anything. Sort of like “extreme.” That’s a marketing buzz word. It’s just filler. Extreme soda/tobacco/Bible (these actually exist)/vacation/mattress is just a normal soda/tobacco/Bible/vacation/mattress painted neon green.
Business Buzz Words are the same thing only in a more businessey, money-grubbing context. They are the words you see in ads starring Sam Waterston or spewing out of the mouth of some ivy-league douchebag on an economic themed news show who offers nothing more to the world than hepatitis and a remarkable capacity for snorting blow. So today I’m going to demystify any mystification that may remain on these common and thoroughly odious words.
Let the buzz begin:
Synergy
What it’s supposed to mean: Works together; forms a perfect union; magic.
What it really means: Magic; works well with others. “The baking soda, q-tips, and saltines create a synergy that make the unicorn possible.” Yup. When it means anything at all, it usually means magic, i.e. "we have no idea how these things work together or what they’ll do, but we hope you believe whatever it is it’s super cool.” When used in the context of different companies or divisions, it just means can work in a group...sort of. For example: “Our various divisions create a synergy that gets you the best project on time; every time” means “We generally get through the day with a minimum amount of passive aggressive inter-office memos and juvenile grudge holding, which enables us to bring you the same product you can get any where else but in 6 weeks* as opposed to the 2 weeks we’ll quote you, which is better than the 8 weeks our competitors will take.” The adverb of “synergy” is “synergistically.” Every time I read "synergistically" my brain clenches and a piece of my soul dies, so I’d rather not discuss it at length. Suffice it to say, “synergy” means nothing more than, “I’m an idiot, don’t ask me how my product works or how my business functions,” and has nothing to do with Jem's computerized master. These people are trying to ruin Jem, and so I must ruin them.
*Results not typical, average time frame not less than 12 weeks.
Verbiage
What it’s supposed to mean: An informed treatise. Poignant words that capture precisely how hip, fresh, altruistic, etc. this company or product is.
What it really means: Page filler; some bullshit to bog investors down in so they don’t actually read the whole document or get so bored and distracted they don’t realize we either have nothing, what we do have has been done better, or we don’t actually know what we have or what we’re doing. This is a word for words that say nothing. How existential.
Proprietary
What it’s supposed to mean: New; unique; never been done before.
What it really means: Don’t look too thoroughly into our patent.
Innovative
What it’s supposed to mean: Taken the old paradigm and improved upon it to the point were no one can compete.
What it really means: Took the old product/service/technology and stuck our label on it.
Classy/VIP
What it’s supposed to mean: Products, services, or atmosphere for the most refined tastes and discriminating palate.
What it really means: Strip club.
Superior
What it’s supposed to mean: Better than all others.
What it really means: Nothing. No really, this is just an adjective writers and editors in the business world throw in when the sentence needs another beat. Which isn’t so bad considering most of the words in business writing mean nothing, but this one irks my terkler in particular because usage has made it meaningless. Traditionally, “superior” meant that –noun- was better than –other nouns-. Now it just means “good.” When some one says “we have a superior atmosphere.” Superior to what? Most examples the “to our competitors” is implied, but sometimes it’s literally just “We are superior.” To what? Competitors? Other people? God? It’s a superfluous and unnecessary bastardization of a word that is still very necessary and useful. You don’t eat a sammich and say “This sammich is superior.” You DO say “This sammich is superior to anything found on the west coast.” GAH! Ok, I need to stop talking about this.
And there you have it. Toastygod’s proprietary verbiage on the synergies of the modern business lexicon in a classy and superior format for VIPs.
Suck it bitches.
When I’m not off fighting crime or fucking your girlfriend, I work as an Editor for a company that writes business documents for business owners that are too illiterate to write them themselves. Through the course of this employment I’ve seen many affronts to the English language. Wanton and reckless apostrophes, the capitalization of EVERY FREAKING NOUN (because that makes your product seem more important), and, of course, spelling so bad I have to assume the word is in another language or the writer has had a stroke or some other cerebral incident. The most irksome thing I encounter, and encounter on the veritable daily, is complete and abject condescension when the writer clearly has no idea what they are talking about, or isn’t talking about anything at all. Which brings me to the subject of today’s post: Business Buzz Words (see, doesn't it seem more important in caps?).
Business Buzz Words are those words used in the course of business that don’t really mean anything. Sort of like “extreme.” That’s a marketing buzz word. It’s just filler. Extreme soda/tobacco/Bible (these actually exist)/vacation/mattress is just a normal soda/tobacco/Bible/vacation/mattress painted neon green.
Business Buzz Words are the same thing only in a more businessey, money-grubbing context. They are the words you see in ads starring Sam Waterston or spewing out of the mouth of some ivy-league douchebag on an economic themed news show who offers nothing more to the world than hepatitis and a remarkable capacity for snorting blow. So today I’m going to demystify any mystification that may remain on these common and thoroughly odious words.
Let the buzz begin:
Synergy
What it’s supposed to mean: Works together; forms a perfect union; magic.
What it really means: Magic; works well with others. “The baking soda, q-tips, and saltines create a synergy that make the unicorn possible.” Yup. When it means anything at all, it usually means magic, i.e. "we have no idea how these things work together or what they’ll do, but we hope you believe whatever it is it’s super cool.” When used in the context of different companies or divisions, it just means can work in a group...sort of. For example: “Our various divisions create a synergy that gets you the best project on time; every time” means “We generally get through the day with a minimum amount of passive aggressive inter-office memos and juvenile grudge holding, which enables us to bring you the same product you can get any where else but in 6 weeks* as opposed to the 2 weeks we’ll quote you, which is better than the 8 weeks our competitors will take.” The adverb of “synergy” is “synergistically.” Every time I read "synergistically" my brain clenches and a piece of my soul dies, so I’d rather not discuss it at length. Suffice it to say, “synergy” means nothing more than, “I’m an idiot, don’t ask me how my product works or how my business functions,” and has nothing to do with Jem's computerized master. These people are trying to ruin Jem, and so I must ruin them.
*Results not typical, average time frame not less than 12 weeks.
Verbiage
What it’s supposed to mean: An informed treatise. Poignant words that capture precisely how hip, fresh, altruistic, etc. this company or product is.
What it really means: Page filler; some bullshit to bog investors down in so they don’t actually read the whole document or get so bored and distracted they don’t realize we either have nothing, what we do have has been done better, or we don’t actually know what we have or what we’re doing. This is a word for words that say nothing. How existential.
Proprietary
What it’s supposed to mean: New; unique; never been done before.
What it really means: Don’t look too thoroughly into our patent.
Innovative
What it’s supposed to mean: Taken the old paradigm and improved upon it to the point were no one can compete.
What it really means: Took the old product/service/technology and stuck our label on it.
Classy/VIP
What it’s supposed to mean: Products, services, or atmosphere for the most refined tastes and discriminating palate.
What it really means: Strip club.
Superior
What it’s supposed to mean: Better than all others.
What it really means: Nothing. No really, this is just an adjective writers and editors in the business world throw in when the sentence needs another beat. Which isn’t so bad considering most of the words in business writing mean nothing, but this one irks my terkler in particular because usage has made it meaningless. Traditionally, “superior” meant that –noun- was better than –other nouns-. Now it just means “good.” When some one says “we have a superior atmosphere.” Superior to what? Most examples the “to our competitors” is implied, but sometimes it’s literally just “We are superior.” To what? Competitors? Other people? God? It’s a superfluous and unnecessary bastardization of a word that is still very necessary and useful. You don’t eat a sammich and say “This sammich is superior.” You DO say “This sammich is superior to anything found on the west coast.” GAH! Ok, I need to stop talking about this.
And there you have it. Toastygod’s proprietary verbiage on the synergies of the modern business lexicon in a classy and superior format for VIPs.
Suck it bitches.
Fuuuuck...I Need A Cheeseburger
Why isn't there a cheeseburger conveyor belt and ice tea well in my kitchen? Well, it's obviously because THIS IS THE WORST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS! A-duh.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Samuel L. Jackson Would Be So Disappointed In Me
Today I'm going to tell you the story of the first (and so far only) time I've been on Nitrous in my adult life.
This story has A LOT of back story so be patient, we'll get there...together (take my breath awaaaaayyyyyy).
I moved to the West Coast about six years ago and pretty much everyone here has extensive experience with drugs. I soon learned words like "bowl" and "wippets" and other totally rad things that only the cool kids get to know about. I didn't know these things because I like my brain cells and never really did drugs and was all around a total lame-o even when I was a teenager and in my prime "cool" years. The most popular drug everyone still does is (duh) marijuana, but much to my surprise the one that seemed to be the most nostalgic for a lot of people was Nitrous Oxide (I use the scientific term because I'm still hopelessly lame). I was subjected to many speeches about how, "When you're on it, you like, understand the whole universe, and you want to tell everyone what it, like, all totally means but you can't speak and then when you CAN speak you've forgotten what you were going to say. I can't describe it, it's like everythingness maaaaaan."
To which I reply, "You know, people that have been clinically dead report a similar experience. I think that was just the sensation of your brain being deprived of oxygen."
"...you just don't get it. You're shackled by your senses."
"Whatever hippie."
They say the "you just don't get it because I totally did drugs for spiritual and intellectual purposes and not just to get high" thing about every drug (seriously guys, just own it. I don't drink because it makes me a better person, I drink because whiskey tastes good and being drunk is (usually) fun)but the way they described being on Nitrous was slightly less terrifying then say acid. I still had no actual desire to do it.
This brings us to back story Volume II, I hate dentists. I.fucking.hate.dentists. "Fantasies of running them down with my car" level of hate. I am a rabid anti-dentite and not ashamed and have no desire to change. It is in no way wrong to hate and avoid a group of masochists that profit from the pain of others. Growing up, I was forced to go to a dentist that would tell my parents I needed painful and invasive procedures that I didn't need, just because my parents could afford to pay too much for them. I had all but about three of my baby teeth pulled by the dentist over a 10 year period, which I've since found is completely useless unless the tooth is massively infected. Only one was infected.
He also decided I needed fillings every time I went in for a cleaning. He would drill and fill up to four baby teeth at a time. They were more silver than white by the time they fell or (more likely) were pulled out. I have again since found out that this is useless unless the kid is in pain (which I wasn't) because they are baby teeth and will fucking fall out (cavity and all) eventually. I also had several adult teeth pulled (I have no canines) and braces put on when I was 10ish because my mouth was "too small" and that "might cause some cosmetic problems." Or it might not have. They decided my sister needed braces too but my parents had wised up by then and she never got them and she has nicer teeth then me. Oh yeah, funny side story, if you straighten a kid's teeth before the jaw finishes growing, they'll just go crooked again when you take the braces off. GOOD IDEA, BRO! My childhood dentist was a total bro. He wore gold chains and never buttoned the top three buttons on his shirt (I wish I made that up).
Ok, so all this leads up to a couple years ago when my mom had one of her batshit crazy moments where she decides that everyone is going to do (x) and the world will suddenly stop being terrible and instead be puppy dogs and rainbows. This time it was that all of us would go to the dentist when we were home for Christmas. My brother got out of it somehow and my dad CLAIMED he had his own dentist that he totes goes to all the time (never confirmed but nice dodge dad) but my sister and I had no escape. Especially once my mom found out I hadn't been since high school, the last time she thought this would be a great idea.
So my sister and I go and QUELLE SUPRISE! They find something wrong with both of us. I have a small cavity and my sister needs a root canal redone because they fucked it up the first time. The audacity of this was staggering to me. It's like a mechanic saying, "I stole all your spark plugs so you need to pay me for new spark plugs and to install the spark plugs and also this fee I've decided you owe."
For some stupid reason (probably whatever happy pills she was on that month) my mom agrees to let these butchers have at it again and makes an appointment for us both to come in and have our respective procedures done at the same time a few mornings later. I kept telling her that I'm a grown ass person and can make my own decisions and it doesn't hurt but NO DICE! I was staying at her house, I didn't have a flight out for something like a month, and my mom's special talent is to make one's life abject misery for no reason at all but especially if she doesn't get her way. On top of the fact that having these butchers take a crack at her children's faces (our meal tickets) was stupid, none of us had insurance so it was going to cost her over two grand for the privilege, taking the idea from "stupid" to "fucking terrible beyond all measure."
The fateful morning comes and, I ain't gonna lie, I was a wreck. My sister went in first because her procedure was way more involved and I start pacing the waiting room. My mother, compassionate saint that she is, laughs and points.
"You really are crazy aren't you Toasty?"
"SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! I SHOULD MAKE A RUN FOR IT AND RIDE THE RAILS BACK TO THE WEST COAST!"
"Ok ok. Don't you have some of those panic pills of yours?"
"TOO SCARED TO TAKE THEM!"
"OMFG! Ok, hold on."
She walks up to the receptionist and points at me with one of those "get a load for this one" looks and says,
"My offspring seems to be having a freak-out problem. Is there anything you can give her?"
"Well, all we can really do is give her Nitrous during the procedure. It'll be an extra $80."
"Let me ask. Toasty, do you want -"
"NUMB MY SUFFERING AND MY MIND SO I NEVER REMEMBER THAT WHICH I AM ABOUT TO ENDURE!"
"Yeah, we'll take the Nitrous."
They finally take me back and I see my sister is in the chair next to me, separated by a sheet. Oh man, I totally forgot this part of the story: my sister was sick. She woke up at about 2:00 that morning with a fever. I, of course, proceeded to nurse her efficiently and with utmost compassion as I had always done since her infancy which is to say doted on her insufferably with food and Tylenol and a chorus of, "How are you feeling now?" repeated every 15 minutes.
We told my mom that my sister was sick and really shouldn't have a root canal today, but she could not have cared less and yelled something about how we don't appreciate what she does for us and we're the reason she can't have nice things and my sister was all, "It's alright Toasty, LET'S DO THIS!" because she is a fucking badass and one tough cookie.
Back to the dentist's office. The nurse sits me in the chair and they have one of those TVs on a swing arm and she turns on the Today Show and puts and blanket on me and asks (in a cooing voice) "How's that, need anything else dear?" and I start to think MAYBE I'm being kind of a baby. She brings in the tank and puts the mask on and turns the tank on. The air smells sweet. I start to feel dizzy.
"How do you feel dear?"
"Weird."
"Haha, yeah that's kind of the point."
"Ok."
I keep breathing and feel dizzier. Then it feels like I can't keep my head on my body. Then I start to notice how threatening Al Roker looks. His face is all twisty and distorted and I'm relatively sure he's reading my thoughts.
"Ok, no, I feel really weird."
"Like what kind of-"
"LIKE I'M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT MAN!"
"Ok ok, I'll take the mask off."
Thankfully, Nitrous starts to wear off as soon as oxygen gets to your brain so I didn't have to deal with several hours of "I don't want to feel like this anymore!" like the one time I ate weed...story for another time.
The dentist finally comes in and the nurse and he have a conversation about how I requested Nitrous but I don't want it anymore and he tells her not to charge us for it (the only cool thing a dentist has ever done) and he takes a look at my tooth.
"GUUUUURL [he calls everyone gurl], this cavity ain't nothin'. We can fill this shit without Novocaine even."
"The hell you can you fucking shameless torture-monger!" (totally a real word)
"No seriously, just let me start and if it hurts I'll bring out the big guns."
"Heroine?"
"...sure whatever, gurl."
Side story: the dentist I had growing up tried to drill a tooth without Novocaine and I jumped out of the chair, ripped that stupid spit sink out of the floor, and fended him off like an old school lion tamer. No doubt. So needless to say I didn't believe any of the jive this fool was shoveling.
He starts drilling and then does some other stuff and about 10 minutes later he's taking his gloves off.
"Wait, that's it?"
"Yup all done. And you were such a good patient you get a lollipop!" which pretty much cements that I've been a total baby about this whole thing.
As I'm walking out, I peek in at my sister who has three people working machinery straight out of Akira over her head, which is burning at a comfortable 102 degrees, and she's staring at the ceiling with a look of "I can do this time standing on my head" on her adorable monkey face. That's when I knew, absolutely and without question, that I was a whiny little bitch.
I called my SO back on the West Coast later.
"So how'd the cavity go?"
"They gave me Nitrous."
"Luuuckeeeeey."
"I hated it."
"...you would. Only you would."
"The universe didn't make sense, it was not some transcendental experience, and it wasn't even a fun high. I'm pretty sure the whole west coast is full of shit and also that someone should look into that Al Roker character."
"Have I told you today how much I love how unique you are? Because I might have some statements I need to recant."
This story has A LOT of back story so be patient, we'll get there...together (take my breath awaaaaayyyyyy).
I moved to the West Coast about six years ago and pretty much everyone here has extensive experience with drugs. I soon learned words like "bowl" and "wippets" and other totally rad things that only the cool kids get to know about. I didn't know these things because I like my brain cells and never really did drugs and was all around a total lame-o even when I was a teenager and in my prime "cool" years. The most popular drug everyone still does is (duh) marijuana, but much to my surprise the one that seemed to be the most nostalgic for a lot of people was Nitrous Oxide (I use the scientific term because I'm still hopelessly lame). I was subjected to many speeches about how, "When you're on it, you like, understand the whole universe, and you want to tell everyone what it, like, all totally means but you can't speak and then when you CAN speak you've forgotten what you were going to say. I can't describe it, it's like everythingness maaaaaan."
To which I reply, "You know, people that have been clinically dead report a similar experience. I think that was just the sensation of your brain being deprived of oxygen."
"...you just don't get it. You're shackled by your senses."
"Whatever hippie."
They say the "you just don't get it because I totally did drugs for spiritual and intellectual purposes and not just to get high" thing about every drug (seriously guys, just own it. I don't drink because it makes me a better person, I drink because whiskey tastes good and being drunk is (usually) fun)but the way they described being on Nitrous was slightly less terrifying then say acid. I still had no actual desire to do it.
This brings us to back story Volume II, I hate dentists. I.fucking.hate.dentists. "Fantasies of running them down with my car" level of hate. I am a rabid anti-dentite and not ashamed and have no desire to change. It is in no way wrong to hate and avoid a group of masochists that profit from the pain of others. Growing up, I was forced to go to a dentist that would tell my parents I needed painful and invasive procedures that I didn't need, just because my parents could afford to pay too much for them. I had all but about three of my baby teeth pulled by the dentist over a 10 year period, which I've since found is completely useless unless the tooth is massively infected. Only one was infected.
He also decided I needed fillings every time I went in for a cleaning. He would drill and fill up to four baby teeth at a time. They were more silver than white by the time they fell or (more likely) were pulled out. I have again since found out that this is useless unless the kid is in pain (which I wasn't) because they are baby teeth and will fucking fall out (cavity and all) eventually. I also had several adult teeth pulled (I have no canines) and braces put on when I was 10ish because my mouth was "too small" and that "might cause some cosmetic problems." Or it might not have. They decided my sister needed braces too but my parents had wised up by then and she never got them and she has nicer teeth then me. Oh yeah, funny side story, if you straighten a kid's teeth before the jaw finishes growing, they'll just go crooked again when you take the braces off. GOOD IDEA, BRO! My childhood dentist was a total bro. He wore gold chains and never buttoned the top three buttons on his shirt (I wish I made that up).
Ok, so all this leads up to a couple years ago when my mom had one of her batshit crazy moments where she decides that everyone is going to do (x) and the world will suddenly stop being terrible and instead be puppy dogs and rainbows. This time it was that all of us would go to the dentist when we were home for Christmas. My brother got out of it somehow and my dad CLAIMED he had his own dentist that he totes goes to all the time (never confirmed but nice dodge dad) but my sister and I had no escape. Especially once my mom found out I hadn't been since high school, the last time she thought this would be a great idea.
So my sister and I go and QUELLE SUPRISE! They find something wrong with both of us. I have a small cavity and my sister needs a root canal redone because they fucked it up the first time. The audacity of this was staggering to me. It's like a mechanic saying, "I stole all your spark plugs so you need to pay me for new spark plugs and to install the spark plugs and also this fee I've decided you owe."
For some stupid reason (probably whatever happy pills she was on that month) my mom agrees to let these butchers have at it again and makes an appointment for us both to come in and have our respective procedures done at the same time a few mornings later. I kept telling her that I'm a grown ass person and can make my own decisions and it doesn't hurt but NO DICE! I was staying at her house, I didn't have a flight out for something like a month, and my mom's special talent is to make one's life abject misery for no reason at all but especially if she doesn't get her way. On top of the fact that having these butchers take a crack at her children's faces (our meal tickets) was stupid, none of us had insurance so it was going to cost her over two grand for the privilege, taking the idea from "stupid" to "fucking terrible beyond all measure."
The fateful morning comes and, I ain't gonna lie, I was a wreck. My sister went in first because her procedure was way more involved and I start pacing the waiting room. My mother, compassionate saint that she is, laughs and points.
"You really are crazy aren't you Toasty?"
"SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! I SHOULD MAKE A RUN FOR IT AND RIDE THE RAILS BACK TO THE WEST COAST!"
"Ok ok. Don't you have some of those panic pills of yours?"
"TOO SCARED TO TAKE THEM!"
"OMFG! Ok, hold on."
She walks up to the receptionist and points at me with one of those "get a load for this one" looks and says,
"My offspring seems to be having a freak-out problem. Is there anything you can give her?"
"Well, all we can really do is give her Nitrous during the procedure. It'll be an extra $80."
"Let me ask. Toasty, do you want -"
"NUMB MY SUFFERING AND MY MIND SO I NEVER REMEMBER THAT WHICH I AM ABOUT TO ENDURE!"
"Yeah, we'll take the Nitrous."
They finally take me back and I see my sister is in the chair next to me, separated by a sheet. Oh man, I totally forgot this part of the story: my sister was sick. She woke up at about 2:00 that morning with a fever. I, of course, proceeded to nurse her efficiently and with utmost compassion as I had always done since her infancy which is to say doted on her insufferably with food and Tylenol and a chorus of, "How are you feeling now?" repeated every 15 minutes.
We told my mom that my sister was sick and really shouldn't have a root canal today, but she could not have cared less and yelled something about how we don't appreciate what she does for us and we're the reason she can't have nice things and my sister was all, "It's alright Toasty, LET'S DO THIS!" because she is a fucking badass and one tough cookie.
Back to the dentist's office. The nurse sits me in the chair and they have one of those TVs on a swing arm and she turns on the Today Show and puts and blanket on me and asks (in a cooing voice) "How's that, need anything else dear?" and I start to think MAYBE I'm being kind of a baby. She brings in the tank and puts the mask on and turns the tank on. The air smells sweet. I start to feel dizzy.
"How do you feel dear?"
"Weird."
"Haha, yeah that's kind of the point."
"Ok."
I keep breathing and feel dizzier. Then it feels like I can't keep my head on my body. Then I start to notice how threatening Al Roker looks. His face is all twisty and distorted and I'm relatively sure he's reading my thoughts.
"Ok, no, I feel really weird."
"Like what kind of-"
"LIKE I'M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT MAN!"
"Ok ok, I'll take the mask off."
Thankfully, Nitrous starts to wear off as soon as oxygen gets to your brain so I didn't have to deal with several hours of "I don't want to feel like this anymore!" like the one time I ate weed...story for another time.
The dentist finally comes in and the nurse and he have a conversation about how I requested Nitrous but I don't want it anymore and he tells her not to charge us for it (the only cool thing a dentist has ever done) and he takes a look at my tooth.
"GUUUUURL [he calls everyone gurl], this cavity ain't nothin'. We can fill this shit without Novocaine even."
"The hell you can you fucking shameless torture-monger!" (totally a real word)
"No seriously, just let me start and if it hurts I'll bring out the big guns."
"Heroine?"
"...sure whatever, gurl."
Side story: the dentist I had growing up tried to drill a tooth without Novocaine and I jumped out of the chair, ripped that stupid spit sink out of the floor, and fended him off like an old school lion tamer. No doubt. So needless to say I didn't believe any of the jive this fool was shoveling.
He starts drilling and then does some other stuff and about 10 minutes later he's taking his gloves off.
"Wait, that's it?"
"Yup all done. And you were such a good patient you get a lollipop!" which pretty much cements that I've been a total baby about this whole thing.
As I'm walking out, I peek in at my sister who has three people working machinery straight out of Akira over her head, which is burning at a comfortable 102 degrees, and she's staring at the ceiling with a look of "I can do this time standing on my head" on her adorable monkey face. That's when I knew, absolutely and without question, that I was a whiny little bitch.
I called my SO back on the West Coast later.
"So how'd the cavity go?"
"They gave me Nitrous."
"Luuuckeeeeey."
"I hated it."
"...you would. Only you would."
"The universe didn't make sense, it was not some transcendental experience, and it wasn't even a fun high. I'm pretty sure the whole west coast is full of shit and also that someone should look into that Al Roker character."
"Have I told you today how much I love how unique you are? Because I might have some statements I need to recant."
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Baby Daddy
ABC Family's new show Baby Daddy has the cheesiest theme song since My Two Dads. I guess with a name like Baby Daddy I shouldn't be surprised by cheese.
That is all.
That is all.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Awesome Advertising Adventures? (?????)
Still working on the name, but nonetheless the bit continues.
Today we will not be starting on a positive note (gotta ration out the positivity, since there is so little in the world) and instead I'm gonna dive right in and talk about that stupid Nutrigrain commercial with the mom where the narrator says "you take a meeting" and shows her like talking to her kids "you take a run" and she's running to catch the school bus "you take it up the butt" ...no wait, then she wouldn't have kids and also this commercial would be less annoying. This commercial is the advertising equivalent to nails on a chalkboard for me. I physically wince whenever I hear it.
There are two main factors that make this commercial maddeningly irritating. First, it does that stupid thing where it analogizes parenthood to business. I hate this shit. Your kitchen table is not a boardroom, your kids are not employees, and your home is not traded on the New York Stock Exchange. It's the same as when over-entitled douchebags say that their companies are their "babies" and taxing them is the same as murdering their children. Directly likening facets of the home with facets of business is a lazy metaphor only used by people trying to sell you something you probably don't need. The commercial is saying, "Being a parent is hard! This is a super secret that we know you live with and we can relate. Only us at Nutrigrain understand how hard you work and that you should be a million bajillionaire for loving your kids so since we're in this together you should buy our product" even though Nutrigrain is an actual company and really does make a million bajillion dollars (based on SEC filings) and wants to make sure companies keep making the money and families keep spending it.
The second reason this commercial is so deserving of public ridicule and ire is by far the more egregious. This line actually happens,
"Take a nap? L-O-L."
No, the narrator didn't laugh out loud, she actually said "LOL." The first time I heard this I literally could not believe it. I thought maybe it was a joke, like "PSYCHE! That's not a real commercial. Real people don't get paid real money for writing commercials that lazy and insulting to the intelligence of it's audience. Also, Nutrigrain doesn't really want to destroy the English language. This was all some big joke because Kids in the Hall is coming back to TV or something." Yes, it was so bad that I had to believe the best of all things, a Kids in the Hall reunion, was actually happening and not the terrible thing that was really happening.
This one line encompasses so much suck, I can barely mock it properly. There's the obvious, "They actually said L-O-L?! On like television? And it wasn't an interview with a 15 year old? Fuck the world." Every time I hear "L-O-L!" spouting out of the TV in that condescending "fuck you for living" voice I want to punch the TV, fully knowing that it's a TV and not the woman talking. I want to feel glass break under my knuckles and the weight of the plastic body topple behind the force of my fist. In short, it fills me with a desire for destruction. I have to consciously remind myself that at some point the commercial will end and I'll be really pissed if I don't have a TV anymore. I need something to watch my Gilmore Girls DVDs on (no commercials FTW!) Side note: I actually suggested to my SO the other day that I should just DVR all the channels at all the times so that I can watch everything without commercials. They seemed to support the idea but I don't think the technology does. I should just wait for everything to be on DVD and guess at what I'll like. It'd be better than putting up with these brain-dead marketers who have the intelligence of krill and seem to think everyone else is even stupider./ End side note.
The other thing that pisses me off about this one fucking line is that it capitalizes on that stupid, played out cliche of "OMG being a mom is so hard right?! I mean it's like totes hard and we never get to sleep which is hilarious HAHAHA! My nipples are chapped and I can't remember what sex feels like HAHAHA! Am I laughing or crying HAHAHAHA? Laughing? Good." This has always been a stupid thing that lazy marketers do but it's so overused that I was hoping they'd find something new to play out. Of course that would take imagination, which no one with the words "marketing" or "media" in their job titles has to even the smallest degree. As someone without kids (and who thanks to modern medicine never will STERILIZATION FTW!) this is just such a weird concept to me. It's basically saying that having kids is nothing but heartache and sorrow and that your life is about as easy as a shit after eating four dozen eggs but isn't it great and funny at totally worth it? "I got pregnant and ruined my life AIN'T IT GREAT?!"
It's like if someone had a really crappy job that they complain about all the time, but it pays pretty well so they think everyone in the world should have the same job. And I don't know who they're trying to convince because pretty much everyone does have kids. Are they trying to convince themselves they didn't make a mistake? Because they did. Unequivocal, intractable mistake. Maybe they're just trying to make the best out of their mistake? Through laughter?
And yes, I know that I just analogized a job to parenthood but what I did was a brief metaphor that got my point across without being too specific. What this commercial, and others like it, do is just beat a dead horse:
"And and ummmm the infant is like the receptionist because he's really bad at taking messages and, yeah, and ummmm your spouse is the secretary? No wait, Vice President and ummmm, no now hold on, "metaphor" totally means take all things from the first concept and correspond to something in the second. I learned that in business school."
Anyway, I grade this commercial so bad I refuse to buy Nutrigrain bars. I wasn't their most loyal consumer before, admittedly, though I did buy them occasionally (especially for road trips or to placate my sister the monkey) but now every time I even pass them in the grocery store I recoil as to that of something damned; something Godless, and think "YOU! You defile the language I love so much and so must be shunned. Death is too good for you, instead you should be forced outside of society, to live a hard and uncomfortable life and eventually die alone and broken. Sort of like what I hear it's like to have kids."
Today we will not be starting on a positive note (gotta ration out the positivity, since there is so little in the world) and instead I'm gonna dive right in and talk about that stupid Nutrigrain commercial with the mom where the narrator says "you take a meeting" and shows her like talking to her kids "you take a run" and she's running to catch the school bus "you take it up the butt" ...no wait, then she wouldn't have kids and also this commercial would be less annoying. This commercial is the advertising equivalent to nails on a chalkboard for me. I physically wince whenever I hear it.
There are two main factors that make this commercial maddeningly irritating. First, it does that stupid thing where it analogizes parenthood to business. I hate this shit. Your kitchen table is not a boardroom, your kids are not employees, and your home is not traded on the New York Stock Exchange. It's the same as when over-entitled douchebags say that their companies are their "babies" and taxing them is the same as murdering their children. Directly likening facets of the home with facets of business is a lazy metaphor only used by people trying to sell you something you probably don't need. The commercial is saying, "Being a parent is hard! This is a super secret that we know you live with and we can relate. Only us at Nutrigrain understand how hard you work and that you should be a million bajillionaire for loving your kids so since we're in this together you should buy our product" even though Nutrigrain is an actual company and really does make a million bajillion dollars (based on SEC filings) and wants to make sure companies keep making the money and families keep spending it.
The second reason this commercial is so deserving of public ridicule and ire is by far the more egregious. This line actually happens,
"Take a nap? L-O-L."
No, the narrator didn't laugh out loud, she actually said "LOL." The first time I heard this I literally could not believe it. I thought maybe it was a joke, like "PSYCHE! That's not a real commercial. Real people don't get paid real money for writing commercials that lazy and insulting to the intelligence of it's audience. Also, Nutrigrain doesn't really want to destroy the English language. This was all some big joke because Kids in the Hall is coming back to TV or something." Yes, it was so bad that I had to believe the best of all things, a Kids in the Hall reunion, was actually happening and not the terrible thing that was really happening.
This one line encompasses so much suck, I can barely mock it properly. There's the obvious, "They actually said L-O-L?! On like television? And it wasn't an interview with a 15 year old? Fuck the world." Every time I hear "L-O-L!" spouting out of the TV in that condescending "fuck you for living" voice I want to punch the TV, fully knowing that it's a TV and not the woman talking. I want to feel glass break under my knuckles and the weight of the plastic body topple behind the force of my fist. In short, it fills me with a desire for destruction. I have to consciously remind myself that at some point the commercial will end and I'll be really pissed if I don't have a TV anymore. I need something to watch my Gilmore Girls DVDs on (no commercials FTW!) Side note: I actually suggested to my SO the other day that I should just DVR all the channels at all the times so that I can watch everything without commercials. They seemed to support the idea but I don't think the technology does. I should just wait for everything to be on DVD and guess at what I'll like. It'd be better than putting up with these brain-dead marketers who have the intelligence of krill and seem to think everyone else is even stupider./ End side note.
The other thing that pisses me off about this one fucking line is that it capitalizes on that stupid, played out cliche of "OMG being a mom is so hard right?! I mean it's like totes hard and we never get to sleep which is hilarious HAHAHA! My nipples are chapped and I can't remember what sex feels like HAHAHA! Am I laughing or crying HAHAHAHA? Laughing? Good." This has always been a stupid thing that lazy marketers do but it's so overused that I was hoping they'd find something new to play out. Of course that would take imagination, which no one with the words "marketing" or "media" in their job titles has to even the smallest degree. As someone without kids (and who thanks to modern medicine never will STERILIZATION FTW!) this is just such a weird concept to me. It's basically saying that having kids is nothing but heartache and sorrow and that your life is about as easy as a shit after eating four dozen eggs but isn't it great and funny at totally worth it? "I got pregnant and ruined my life AIN'T IT GREAT?!"
It's like if someone had a really crappy job that they complain about all the time, but it pays pretty well so they think everyone in the world should have the same job. And I don't know who they're trying to convince because pretty much everyone does have kids. Are they trying to convince themselves they didn't make a mistake? Because they did. Unequivocal, intractable mistake. Maybe they're just trying to make the best out of their mistake? Through laughter?
And yes, I know that I just analogized a job to parenthood but what I did was a brief metaphor that got my point across without being too specific. What this commercial, and others like it, do is just beat a dead horse:
"And and ummmm the infant is like the receptionist because he's really bad at taking messages and, yeah, and ummmm your spouse is the secretary? No wait, Vice President and ummmm, no now hold on, "metaphor" totally means take all things from the first concept and correspond to something in the second. I learned that in business school."
Anyway, I grade this commercial so bad I refuse to buy Nutrigrain bars. I wasn't their most loyal consumer before, admittedly, though I did buy them occasionally (especially for road trips or to placate my sister the monkey) but now every time I even pass them in the grocery store I recoil as to that of something damned; something Godless, and think "YOU! You defile the language I love so much and so must be shunned. Death is too good for you, instead you should be forced outside of society, to live a hard and uncomfortable life and eventually die alone and broken. Sort of like what I hear it's like to have kids."
Monday, June 18, 2012
Your Kids Ain't Cute And Neither Is This Conversation
I assume everyone knows the old saying that the three things you don't talk about in "mixed" company are sex, politics, and religion (though all three together is the secret to the ultimate party explosion, or a terrible corrupt theocracy, EVS). I think we (society?) need to add another category: kids/pets. Now, I'm not talking about small groups of close friends or your Mommy and Me group, I'm talking about parties, dinners, bars, anywhere with a lot of people or people you don't know very well.
I propose that from now on, the polite rule will be that you can state that you have kids/pets and what variety they are, AND THAT'S IT. Parents/pet owners have proven they can't handle the pressure of being both parents/pet owners and members of polite society so we're gonna have to shut it down. First of all, when someone starts prattling about their precious baby, kitty cat, shih tzu, it is fucking boring. Everyone else's brain shuts down and they start playing old video games in their heads, which actually if you're trying to rob the place is a pretty good Phase I, I guess. Start talking about how your precious princess is already sitting up which she shouldn't be able to do for two more months and all the books say she is a fucking genius and you've called MENSA but they don't test infants, which is ageist discrimination and you have written several letters and no one will notice your partners going through the crowd stealing jewelry, wallets, wall art, and whatever they can carry. See, this zlog is full of practical advice. I think I'll start classifying it as "educational/instructional."
Back to the point. Not only is talk of your precious baby/tabby/pomerdoodle boring, but inevitably it turns gross. I don't know what happens to people when they have a kid, but the part of their brain that judges which topics are appropriate and which are completely fucking disgusting apparently just disintegrates. People who have pets because they want kids but are sterile/hopelessly alone seem to be missing this part of their brain too. Maybe the mental illness that makes having kids seem like a good idea comes with irreparable damage to the grossness identification lobe of your brain (totally scientific name for real body part). I sat in horror a few months ago as a woman described in vivid detail the different types of poop her dog shits depending on what it has eaten that day. Why? Why did I need to know this? And parents are even worse, they think stories like "I was laying with Sir Poopsalot (perfect name for a kid, if someone named their kid this I might actually respect someone with kids) on my chest and then he just blew orange shit spray all over my chest. HAHAHAHA isn't that just precious HAHAHAHA!" are FUNNY! They are not funny. They are not even unfunny. They are disgusting and unnecessary. Do you believe if everyone laughs at your terrible, shit-filled life then it's really not so bad? Well no one is laughing, and it is that bad. Actually, it's worse but the sleep deprivation might make you crazy enough to want to carry on.
The only recourse to being stuck in a room with these people is copious drinking or drug use to try to forget everything they say and that you actually know anyone so oblivious. Which is why I recommend we make the list of things you don't talk about in mixed company kids/pets (it should really be first), sex, politics, and religion. Actually, kids/pets should replace sex. How do you know who is DTF if you can't ask what sort of freaky shit strangers are into?
I propose that from now on, the polite rule will be that you can state that you have kids/pets and what variety they are, AND THAT'S IT. Parents/pet owners have proven they can't handle the pressure of being both parents/pet owners and members of polite society so we're gonna have to shut it down. First of all, when someone starts prattling about their precious baby, kitty cat, shih tzu, it is fucking boring. Everyone else's brain shuts down and they start playing old video games in their heads, which actually if you're trying to rob the place is a pretty good Phase I, I guess. Start talking about how your precious princess is already sitting up which she shouldn't be able to do for two more months and all the books say she is a fucking genius and you've called MENSA but they don't test infants, which is ageist discrimination and you have written several letters and no one will notice your partners going through the crowd stealing jewelry, wallets, wall art, and whatever they can carry. See, this zlog is full of practical advice. I think I'll start classifying it as "educational/instructional."
Back to the point. Not only is talk of your precious baby/tabby/pomerdoodle boring, but inevitably it turns gross. I don't know what happens to people when they have a kid, but the part of their brain that judges which topics are appropriate and which are completely fucking disgusting apparently just disintegrates. People who have pets because they want kids but are sterile/hopelessly alone seem to be missing this part of their brain too. Maybe the mental illness that makes having kids seem like a good idea comes with irreparable damage to the grossness identification lobe of your brain (totally scientific name for real body part). I sat in horror a few months ago as a woman described in vivid detail the different types of poop her dog shits depending on what it has eaten that day. Why? Why did I need to know this? And parents are even worse, they think stories like "I was laying with Sir Poopsalot (perfect name for a kid, if someone named their kid this I might actually respect someone with kids) on my chest and then he just blew orange shit spray all over my chest. HAHAHAHA isn't that just precious HAHAHAHA!" are FUNNY! They are not funny. They are not even unfunny. They are disgusting and unnecessary. Do you believe if everyone laughs at your terrible, shit-filled life then it's really not so bad? Well no one is laughing, and it is that bad. Actually, it's worse but the sleep deprivation might make you crazy enough to want to carry on.
The only recourse to being stuck in a room with these people is copious drinking or drug use to try to forget everything they say and that you actually know anyone so oblivious. Which is why I recommend we make the list of things you don't talk about in mixed company kids/pets (it should really be first), sex, politics, and religion. Actually, kids/pets should replace sex. How do you know who is DTF if you can't ask what sort of freaky shit strangers are into?
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Wednesday Breaktime of Love
So I've been wanting to start a weekly Wednesday feature where I talk about commercials that deserve to be singled out for one reason or another. But I didn't know what to call it...and I still don't. I was thinking like "Commercial Break Wednesdays" but I'm pretty sure these things have to be alliterative or you fail out of the internets. "Weekly Wednesday Marketing Bonanza"?
Ok, I'll work on the name but I'm going to start the feature anyway.
I'm actually going to start on a positive note (QUELLE SUPRISE!) by saying that M&Ms has the best commercials on television right now. Every time I see that little red guy shake his naked buttski to "I'm sexy and I know it," I gets me a case of the giggles. No doubt.
Now onto a commercial that is less giggle worthy and more instructional. This commercial teaches the very important lesson of identifying red flags and when to get a restraining order.
My first experience seeing this commercial went thusly:
The interior is a coffee shop and there's an 800 number/website at the bottom of the screen. A woman walks up to the counter and the barista is just too hip for words. Huge Buddy Holly glasses with no lenses and hair plastered into some sort of pompadour disaster level hip. So the woman says,
"I'll have -"
And mister no-lenses INTERRUPTS HER to say, "A soy mochalottaPBRcachino." (I don't speak hipster but I assume this is close enough). While he says this, he's giving this look that is not so much "shy, goo-goo, gee you're pretty" eyes so much as "I love you and how your skin would look on me" eyes.
At this point I no shit thought that there would be a record scratch and a narrator would say, "Are you too cool to be non-threatening? Need help getting your hipster penis wet? Call LiveLinks or go to DateMyDick.com or HipsterHangout.org or..." you get the picture. I assumed this so hard my brain actually showed that scenario to my eyes for several seconds before it was snapped back in a weird psychedelic mind blip where my brain gave a 404 error and we had to reboot and try to process this new, incomprehensible reality.
The commercial actually goes on to have the girl say:
"Yeah how did you-" interrupted
"That's what you got last time."
"And you-" interrupted AGAIN! Bitches love being interrupted
"Remembered, yeah."
And then the woman walks out with a look that I interpreted as "I need to find a new coffee house cause CREEEEPYYYY, thankfully there's another StarBucks across the street." BUT NO! The narrator chimes in to say "Women love when you pay attention" so apparently that look was "My panties just dropped SO HARD THEY ARE IN CHINA NOW!" And then they shill for their dating website or whatever the hell it is they're selling.
All I could think is that if this freaktastic interaction, which I'm pretty sure meets the legal requirements of menacing with intent to totally creep the fuck out, is the meaning of love that this company will teach you, they got into the wrong business. Unless serial killer matchmaking is a large, untapped market that watches a lot of daytime TNT programming. In which case I guess I'M the idiot. But they're still sketch as hell.
Ok, I'll work on the name but I'm going to start the feature anyway.
I'm actually going to start on a positive note (QUELLE SUPRISE!) by saying that M&Ms has the best commercials on television right now. Every time I see that little red guy shake his naked buttski to "I'm sexy and I know it," I gets me a case of the giggles. No doubt.
Now onto a commercial that is less giggle worthy and more instructional. This commercial teaches the very important lesson of identifying red flags and when to get a restraining order.
My first experience seeing this commercial went thusly:
The interior is a coffee shop and there's an 800 number/website at the bottom of the screen. A woman walks up to the counter and the barista is just too hip for words. Huge Buddy Holly glasses with no lenses and hair plastered into some sort of pompadour disaster level hip. So the woman says,
"I'll have -"
And mister no-lenses INTERRUPTS HER to say, "A soy mochalottaPBRcachino." (I don't speak hipster but I assume this is close enough). While he says this, he's giving this look that is not so much "shy, goo-goo, gee you're pretty" eyes so much as "I love you and how your skin would look on me" eyes.
At this point I no shit thought that there would be a record scratch and a narrator would say, "Are you too cool to be non-threatening? Need help getting your hipster penis wet? Call LiveLinks or go to DateMyDick.com or HipsterHangout.org or..." you get the picture. I assumed this so hard my brain actually showed that scenario to my eyes for several seconds before it was snapped back in a weird psychedelic mind blip where my brain gave a 404 error and we had to reboot and try to process this new, incomprehensible reality.
The commercial actually goes on to have the girl say:
"Yeah how did you-" interrupted
"That's what you got last time."
"And you-" interrupted AGAIN! Bitches love being interrupted
"Remembered, yeah."
And then the woman walks out with a look that I interpreted as "I need to find a new coffee house cause CREEEEPYYYY, thankfully there's another StarBucks across the street." BUT NO! The narrator chimes in to say "Women love when you pay attention" so apparently that look was "My panties just dropped SO HARD THEY ARE IN CHINA NOW!" And then they shill for their dating website or whatever the hell it is they're selling.
All I could think is that if this freaktastic interaction, which I'm pretty sure meets the legal requirements of menacing with intent to totally creep the fuck out, is the meaning of love that this company will teach you, they got into the wrong business. Unless serial killer matchmaking is a large, untapped market that watches a lot of daytime TNT programming. In which case I guess I'M the idiot. But they're still sketch as hell.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Posting Is Haaaard, Which Is Why This Post Is Turrble
Posting is haaaaard. I really don't know what to talk about. Ummmmm, British Top Gear is on. This might be my favorite show that is currently being produced for television because it is awesome and also because everything else is terrible. I don't want to sound all, "In my day shows had scripts and we walked up hill both ways in the snow with nothing but newspaper on our feet!" But seriously, TV these days makes me sad. Almost all of what's on can be divided into three categories (in descending order of share of shows): reality shows that highlight how stupid, vain, and greedy people are; singing/dancing competitions (these are starting to make me angry with their ubiquity); or actually scripted shows that are written like ad copy from a less talented yet somehow more sexist, racist, and homophobic versions of Don Draper. I hear that the only place to find good shows are on the movie channels but I be broke so I wouldn't know.
AND THAT'S ANOTHER THING! When did watching TV become so expensive? Does anyone but me remember why we started paying for cable? It was not just to get more channels, it was to get channels with no commercials. In "the good old days" the whole premise was that yes you were paying for something you could get for free but if you pay you get no ads, sorta like ad-free website subscriptions. And this was in a day when you had two commercials in 15 minutes into a half hour show and four 30 second commercials between the end of one show and start of the next. I'm not making that up, my brother and I have a bunch of VHS tapes of old cartoons from when we were kids and that was the actual show-to-commercial ratio. There may have been more for prime time shows, but nothing near the 18 commercials for every 4 minutes of programming we have now. I realized how profound the difference when watching TV Land the other night, I had always wondered why their schedule had shows starting at 4:42 or 8:19 and I realized that scripts from the 80s and earlier for a 30 minute show were around 28 minutes and to accommodate the 20 minutes of commercials they sell for every 30 minutes of programming, the show run times become about 48 minutes. I also don't really get why advertisers do this. My brother and I still remember the commercials we saw when we were kids; we can quote whole Lucky Charms commercials and recite the address to send our Kool-Aid points. But with 4,000 commercials inundating every viewer every hour, it just becomes a din of "ON SALE NOW" and promises of sex, success, and salvation. I tune most of it out and for shows I really like, I DVR it and skip the commercials. I think if I was given a survey on brands, I'd probably only know the ones I actually buy, but if I was given a survey of brands from 25ish years ago, I'd probably know any one that had a commercial on a channel I watched (so all of them).
I also blame that stupid digital conversion they (The Government? Corporations? The Free Masons? Same diff) foisted (didn't know that was a real word until I typed it and spell check didn't yell at me) on us. I remember this one time my brother and dad were at my parents' house in Northern Virginia and the game they were showing on TV was the Redskins (LAAAAME foreskins BOOOOOO) game against someone else equally inconsequential, but by taking and old, small TV we had in the kitchen and putting it on a a ladder in the front yard, they managed to get the local broadcast from Baltimore, which was where the Giants (ALL HAIL THE WORLD CHAMPIONS) were playing. You can't do that now. OH NO! If random dumbass rich local television guy decides we all have to watch the cricket finals instead of the Super Bowl, ain't shit you can do thanks to the bullshit digital conversion. It was all a plot to keep information away from the common man and I'm pretty sure there was some classist bullshit there too(you need to buy new TVs if you want to get free channels because your TV doesn't work anymore but if you want it to work you can also buy a converter, which costs money and you can buy from us, the ones who you would have to pay to get cable and doesn't cable just make sense now? You should probably just pay us every month for cable and we'll decide what you watch). The digital conversion still makes me so.fucking.angry. I just can't even you guys, I swear I just can't even anymore.
So to sum up: television is expensive, full of ads, and the programming is terrible (the internet without the anarchy). Yet I watch roughly 20 hours a day . So I'm dumb but I can recommend with full authority that everyone should watch British Top Gear on BBC America because I have sifted through all the crap to find this one shining gem of awesome. Now that I've endorsed it, it'll totally get canceled. It's also worth noting that BBC America has fewer commercials than most cable networks though FULL DISCLOSURE the BBC commercials are THE WORST. Oh and don't get suckered into watching anything else produced by BBC because it is all terrible. If you don't believe me, try to get through one episode of "No Kitchen Required" without wanting to re-declare the Revolutionary War so that you can go around punching brits with impunity.
Oh and I don't like to get too political on here, but it seems like a good opportunity to mention that if stuff like PIPA and SOPA become the law, then the internet will be the same as television: a million channels with nothing on, ads everywhere all the time, and a few rich guys deciding what watered-down drek we all get to view. I'd probably get sued for my "descriptive retelling" of the Super Bowl without the expressed written permission of the NFL. In other words, it would be bad m'kay so, you know, don't encourage them (Law makers? Lobbyists? The Illuminati? Probably definitely the last one) or whatever.
Blahhhh. Not only is updating hard but talking about political issues that are six months old makes me feel dirty.
Need shower/nap/more British Top Gear. I always forever need more British Top Gear.
AND THAT'S ANOTHER THING! When did watching TV become so expensive? Does anyone but me remember why we started paying for cable? It was not just to get more channels, it was to get channels with no commercials. In "the good old days" the whole premise was that yes you were paying for something you could get for free but if you pay you get no ads, sorta like ad-free website subscriptions. And this was in a day when you had two commercials in 15 minutes into a half hour show and four 30 second commercials between the end of one show and start of the next. I'm not making that up, my brother and I have a bunch of VHS tapes of old cartoons from when we were kids and that was the actual show-to-commercial ratio. There may have been more for prime time shows, but nothing near the 18 commercials for every 4 minutes of programming we have now. I realized how profound the difference when watching TV Land the other night, I had always wondered why their schedule had shows starting at 4:42 or 8:19 and I realized that scripts from the 80s and earlier for a 30 minute show were around 28 minutes and to accommodate the 20 minutes of commercials they sell for every 30 minutes of programming, the show run times become about 48 minutes. I also don't really get why advertisers do this. My brother and I still remember the commercials we saw when we were kids; we can quote whole Lucky Charms commercials and recite the address to send our Kool-Aid points. But with 4,000 commercials inundating every viewer every hour, it just becomes a din of "ON SALE NOW" and promises of sex, success, and salvation. I tune most of it out and for shows I really like, I DVR it and skip the commercials. I think if I was given a survey on brands, I'd probably only know the ones I actually buy, but if I was given a survey of brands from 25ish years ago, I'd probably know any one that had a commercial on a channel I watched (so all of them).
I also blame that stupid digital conversion they (The Government? Corporations? The Free Masons? Same diff) foisted (didn't know that was a real word until I typed it and spell check didn't yell at me) on us. I remember this one time my brother and dad were at my parents' house in Northern Virginia and the game they were showing on TV was the Redskins (LAAAAME foreskins BOOOOOO) game against someone else equally inconsequential, but by taking and old, small TV we had in the kitchen and putting it on a a ladder in the front yard, they managed to get the local broadcast from Baltimore, which was where the Giants (ALL HAIL THE WORLD CHAMPIONS) were playing. You can't do that now. OH NO! If random dumbass rich local television guy decides we all have to watch the cricket finals instead of the Super Bowl, ain't shit you can do thanks to the bullshit digital conversion. It was all a plot to keep information away from the common man and I'm pretty sure there was some classist bullshit there too(you need to buy new TVs if you want to get free channels because your TV doesn't work anymore but if you want it to work you can also buy a converter, which costs money and you can buy from us, the ones who you would have to pay to get cable and doesn't cable just make sense now? You should probably just pay us every month for cable and we'll decide what you watch). The digital conversion still makes me so.fucking.angry. I just can't even you guys, I swear I just can't even anymore.
So to sum up: television is expensive, full of ads, and the programming is terrible (the internet without the anarchy). Yet I watch roughly 20 hours a day . So I'm dumb but I can recommend with full authority that everyone should watch British Top Gear on BBC America because I have sifted through all the crap to find this one shining gem of awesome. Now that I've endorsed it, it'll totally get canceled. It's also worth noting that BBC America has fewer commercials than most cable networks though FULL DISCLOSURE the BBC commercials are THE WORST. Oh and don't get suckered into watching anything else produced by BBC because it is all terrible. If you don't believe me, try to get through one episode of "No Kitchen Required" without wanting to re-declare the Revolutionary War so that you can go around punching brits with impunity.
Oh and I don't like to get too political on here, but it seems like a good opportunity to mention that if stuff like PIPA and SOPA become the law, then the internet will be the same as television: a million channels with nothing on, ads everywhere all the time, and a few rich guys deciding what watered-down drek we all get to view. I'd probably get sued for my "descriptive retelling" of the Super Bowl without the expressed written permission of the NFL. In other words, it would be bad m'kay so, you know, don't encourage them (Law makers? Lobbyists? The Illuminati? Probably definitely the last one) or whatever.
Blahhhh. Not only is updating hard but talking about political issues that are six months old makes me feel dirty.
Need shower/nap/more British Top Gear. I always forever need more British Top Gear.
Monday, June 4, 2012
They Fucked With Fern Gully. Now It's Personal.
I was watching FX the other day and the movie Avatar came on. Now I had never seen Avatar because it looked like James Cameron took Fern Gully, cut it open, gutted it, and shoved some CGI where its soul used to be. I liked Fern Gully when I was a kid. No, fuck the haters, I fucking LOVED Fern Gully when I was a kid. Saw it probably 100 times loved it. So, just like with my other loved ones, I really didn’t want to watch it get decapitated and maimed on screen. Also, I’ve never forgiven Mr. Cameron for the cinematic abortion that was Titanic (yes yes, the movie about the Titanic was an irredeemable disaster, irony, haha, let’s move on).
I was pretty sure I was right about Avatar (on account of I’m right about everything) but it was a Saturday afternoon, there was nothing on, I was interminably bored, and figured making fun of it might be more fun than pulling out my own fingernails. Spoiler: Watching this movie to make fun of it was only marginally more fun than pulling out my fingernails.
James Cameron clearly has the “Lucas Complex,” which is where someone was super good at making movies at one point and so is now given all the money they want and surrounded by sycophantic yes men and told that every idea they have is good, even the shitty ones (George Romero famously has it). In music, this is referred to as the “Clapton Complex.” The studio should have fired Cameron and brought in Ridley Scott POST HASTE! Or Sam Raimi, then it would have been funny too.
Within the first 20 minutes I spotted roughly 47 scientific impossibilities. Heads up to aspiring film makers: putting Sigourney Weaver in a white coat does not change the laws of the physical world and make anyone believe the sciencey sounding explanations you give for you plot holes.
Listing everything wrong with this movie would take longer than the stupid thing, but here is a list of the top terrible points of this terrible movie (or basically all the ones I wanted to type out):
Terrible Thing One: When I saw the trailers I assumed the “avatars” were robots. No no, that would make too much sense. They are apparently actual biological creatures grown in a lab. Now these creatures have all the physical traits of the things there bred from (humans and weird blue cat people) and since they have the capacity to move and talk and their hearts beat and shit, that means they have brains and nervous systems and all that other good stuff. So how are they not sentient? This leads to one of three conclusions: the humans are possessing conscious, sentient beings and forcing them to act against their will (CREEEEEEPY); the avatars are brain dead, which leads to a host of problems with how they function when invaded by their human hijackers; or James Cameron is a massive dumbass. And what is going on with the avatar body when the host mind is in the host body and vice versa? Are they just starving and peeing themselves during the long intervals between visits? As my brother said, “Interfacing with your flying butt monkey for life? I’d like to see those lease terms.” Though I guess you’d have to or you’d be sentencing your avatar to a soiled, painful, disgusting death. I do like the part where the main character guy says, “Each human can only pair to one avatar and each avatar to one human because of bio something blah blah science stuff hehe.” It was like the film was saying, “HAHA WE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT WE ARE DOING HAHA!”
Terrible Thing Two: They called the not-so-subtle oil metaphor substance “unobtainium.” Professional writers came up with that. They got paid money and were not fired on the spot for that piece of pure inspirational genius. Fuck the world.
Terrible Thing Three: The “film makers” (they are film makers in that they made a film, just like any America’s Funniest Home Videos submitter) seemed to want to cram so much new age, pseudo spirituality and allegorical meaning into this huge pile of suck that everything comes off as hasty and with no real thought behind it, a true feat in a movie that’s longer than my dick. One of the people I live with got sucked in about halfway through the movie and pointed out, “I bet a lot of people watch this and go “THAT’S TERRIBLE” but when stuff like this happens in real life they don’t realize it’s the same thing. That might be because, instead of focusing on one instance of imperialism being terrible, this film decided to go through every bad thing that any culture has ever done to another culture or the environment since the history of everything.” Which is too true, too true. If James Cameron had wanted so badly to show the dangers of corporations, imperialism, and/or environmental irresponsibility, he could have made several movies dealing each with one instance of that actually happening instead of one movie that is an allegory so large, encompassing so many events, it loses all message and makes it impossible for the viewer to relate to any actual event they witness. I felt like there was a second narrative that went, “First we start at the dawn of man when we rolled over other species to grow our civilization and then America happened and also other countries that took land from indigenous people and oh did I mention the rain forest and also that corporations are bad…” and so on and on and on. But whatever, WIDE SWEEPING ALLEGORIES FTW!
Terrible Thing Four: Those gross flagella looking things coming out of their hair that they attach to other thing’s flagella. Ew. Does the entire global population of that planet need a prescription for Valtrex because that shit don’t look sanitary. Which brings me to…
Terrible Thing Five: So they’re supposed to like mate with some dragons I guess and you choose them and they choose you and once you are bonded you’re bonded for life…unless it’s inconvenient for the script. Main character guy gets his blue dragon thing and they are all “BEST BUDS FOR LYFE!!!!! (Sorry I tried to kill you that one time bro).” But then he needs to mate (?) with one of the big red dragon variety that only four blue cat people have been able to break in the history of this planet to get the blue cat people to come back because this time will be different baby, I’ve changed! I swear! so he’s like, “Yeah, I’ve only been doing this whole blue cat person thing for 3 months and my small blue dragon guy almost killed me, but evs, it’ll totes be no problem.” Then he mates (again ?) with the red thing in a scene that kinda says everything about the caliber of this movie. See, like I said before, his little blue dragon guy almost killed him, and he’s been training for three months to learn what these blue cat people learn over decades, so when he decides to do what all but four other blue cat people ever have failed to do, he just flies over it (with some bullshit line about “if he’s the biggest thing in the sky, why would he ever look up?”), jumps on its back, and then the camera goes to black and it’s the next scene. BRILLIANT! Can’t figure out how to get out of this inconceivably massive plot hole you’ve dug? Just cut to black and be like “AND THEN EVERYTHING WORKED OUT YAY!!!!!!” And what happened to his little blue dragon buddy? They were mated for life! Blue cat people possessed by imperialist soldiers are such cheating assholes. Don’t worry little buddy, you’ll find someone better. You need to drop that zero and get you a hero!
Terrible Thing Six: In the first attack scene, the blue cat people’s weapons were shrugged off like ants spitting at a Doberman, but next attack they are fucking up the invading forces with the same weapons they tried to use the first time…somehow. Oh and how dickish is it for the humans (and avatar-humans, don’t call them “blue cat fuckers,” that’s racist) to decide they would be the only ones that get guns while the full-blooded blue cat people only get bows and arrows, dragons, and strong language? Answer: intensely dickish.
Terrible Thing Seven: Humans can’t breathe on this planet. The planet has plants and mammals and reptiles and all sorts of shit we have here on earth, but an atmosphere that is completely toxic to humans? How could that possibly be? Oh right, because it makes it more convenient to kill the big boss at the end. You can’t arrow King Koopa like some punk ass goomba, you gotta throw him in the fire pit…er suffocate him with magical poison air.
Terrible Thing Eight: The whole planet is connected like the internet and so…resurrection? Hippie.Fucking.Nonesense. “We’re all connected mannnn! And like the answers all lie in nature and we should totally believe in any superstition that has some sort of white guilt associated with it.” This is the same bullshit that gets people to buy magnet bracelets to cure their cancer or believe that pot cures every fucking thing ever and not just the few specific things it actually helps just like any other medicine. What? You haven’t heard? Pot is not some magical elixir that will not make you live forever? Shocking Mr. Hippie I know, but you can still enjoy getting high, it’s ok. Actually, if you believe in glowing trees that turn people into blue cats that can breathe poison you should probably lay off the drugs. And that vortex nonsense? I wonder if it’s like other vortexes and I can at least get a t-shirt for pretending I buy that a geologist found a place that makes you look taller in pictures as long as you take a picture of someone else who is taller.
Terrible Thing Nine: Three fucking hour run time. I mean, what the ever-living fuck? With all the terribleness contained in this movie, what didn’t make it in?
“We’re running a little long, so let’s cut all the scenes that explain things and also the ones that make the characters
likable.” -- James Cameron on editing.
I feel really bad for the extra whose one scene got cut. “They kept 47,000 hours of blue butt monkeys riding dragons, but my line explaining why their arrows work now got cut?! Fuck you James Cameron!” Fuck him indeed. Don’t worry random extra, there will be other, hopefully better movies. Besides, with a cast of 588,000, this probably wasn’t your big break.
I’m sure I could go on, but 1,800 words are more than this disaster of a movie ever really deserved.
In conclusion, I am not speaking to Hollywood right now. How could it let this happen to us? Madagascar 3 and Brave better be unbelievably fucking excellent or I’m breaking up with you Hollywood. For good! I mean it this time! Get your fucking act together! Oh and also never let James Cameron near a film project or Michael Bay near a fond childhood memory. Cool? Kthanxbai.
I was pretty sure I was right about Avatar (on account of I’m right about everything) but it was a Saturday afternoon, there was nothing on, I was interminably bored, and figured making fun of it might be more fun than pulling out my own fingernails. Spoiler: Watching this movie to make fun of it was only marginally more fun than pulling out my fingernails.
James Cameron clearly has the “Lucas Complex,” which is where someone was super good at making movies at one point and so is now given all the money they want and surrounded by sycophantic yes men and told that every idea they have is good, even the shitty ones (George Romero famously has it). In music, this is referred to as the “Clapton Complex.” The studio should have fired Cameron and brought in Ridley Scott POST HASTE! Or Sam Raimi, then it would have been funny too.
Within the first 20 minutes I spotted roughly 47 scientific impossibilities. Heads up to aspiring film makers: putting Sigourney Weaver in a white coat does not change the laws of the physical world and make anyone believe the sciencey sounding explanations you give for you plot holes.
Listing everything wrong with this movie would take longer than the stupid thing, but here is a list of the top terrible points of this terrible movie (or basically all the ones I wanted to type out):
Terrible Thing One: When I saw the trailers I assumed the “avatars” were robots. No no, that would make too much sense. They are apparently actual biological creatures grown in a lab. Now these creatures have all the physical traits of the things there bred from (humans and weird blue cat people) and since they have the capacity to move and talk and their hearts beat and shit, that means they have brains and nervous systems and all that other good stuff. So how are they not sentient? This leads to one of three conclusions: the humans are possessing conscious, sentient beings and forcing them to act against their will (CREEEEEEPY); the avatars are brain dead, which leads to a host of problems with how they function when invaded by their human hijackers; or James Cameron is a massive dumbass. And what is going on with the avatar body when the host mind is in the host body and vice versa? Are they just starving and peeing themselves during the long intervals between visits? As my brother said, “Interfacing with your flying butt monkey for life? I’d like to see those lease terms.” Though I guess you’d have to or you’d be sentencing your avatar to a soiled, painful, disgusting death. I do like the part where the main character guy says, “Each human can only pair to one avatar and each avatar to one human because of bio something blah blah science stuff hehe.” It was like the film was saying, “HAHA WE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT WE ARE DOING HAHA!”
Terrible Thing Two: They called the not-so-subtle oil metaphor substance “unobtainium.” Professional writers came up with that. They got paid money and were not fired on the spot for that piece of pure inspirational genius. Fuck the world.
Terrible Thing Three: The “film makers” (they are film makers in that they made a film, just like any America’s Funniest Home Videos submitter) seemed to want to cram so much new age, pseudo spirituality and allegorical meaning into this huge pile of suck that everything comes off as hasty and with no real thought behind it, a true feat in a movie that’s longer than my dick. One of the people I live with got sucked in about halfway through the movie and pointed out, “I bet a lot of people watch this and go “THAT’S TERRIBLE” but when stuff like this happens in real life they don’t realize it’s the same thing. That might be because, instead of focusing on one instance of imperialism being terrible, this film decided to go through every bad thing that any culture has ever done to another culture or the environment since the history of everything.” Which is too true, too true. If James Cameron had wanted so badly to show the dangers of corporations, imperialism, and/or environmental irresponsibility, he could have made several movies dealing each with one instance of that actually happening instead of one movie that is an allegory so large, encompassing so many events, it loses all message and makes it impossible for the viewer to relate to any actual event they witness. I felt like there was a second narrative that went, “First we start at the dawn of man when we rolled over other species to grow our civilization and then America happened and also other countries that took land from indigenous people and oh did I mention the rain forest and also that corporations are bad…” and so on and on and on. But whatever, WIDE SWEEPING ALLEGORIES FTW!
Terrible Thing Four: Those gross flagella looking things coming out of their hair that they attach to other thing’s flagella. Ew. Does the entire global population of that planet need a prescription for Valtrex because that shit don’t look sanitary. Which brings me to…
Terrible Thing Five: So they’re supposed to like mate with some dragons I guess and you choose them and they choose you and once you are bonded you’re bonded for life…unless it’s inconvenient for the script. Main character guy gets his blue dragon thing and they are all “BEST BUDS FOR LYFE!!!!! (Sorry I tried to kill you that one time bro).” But then he needs to mate (?) with one of the big red dragon variety that only four blue cat people have been able to break in the history of this planet to get the blue cat people to come back because this time will be different baby, I’ve changed! I swear! so he’s like, “Yeah, I’ve only been doing this whole blue cat person thing for 3 months and my small blue dragon guy almost killed me, but evs, it’ll totes be no problem.” Then he mates (again ?) with the red thing in a scene that kinda says everything about the caliber of this movie. See, like I said before, his little blue dragon guy almost killed him, and he’s been training for three months to learn what these blue cat people learn over decades, so when he decides to do what all but four other blue cat people ever have failed to do, he just flies over it (with some bullshit line about “if he’s the biggest thing in the sky, why would he ever look up?”), jumps on its back, and then the camera goes to black and it’s the next scene. BRILLIANT! Can’t figure out how to get out of this inconceivably massive plot hole you’ve dug? Just cut to black and be like “AND THEN EVERYTHING WORKED OUT YAY!!!!!!” And what happened to his little blue dragon buddy? They were mated for life! Blue cat people possessed by imperialist soldiers are such cheating assholes. Don’t worry little buddy, you’ll find someone better. You need to drop that zero and get you a hero!
Terrible Thing Six: In the first attack scene, the blue cat people’s weapons were shrugged off like ants spitting at a Doberman, but next attack they are fucking up the invading forces with the same weapons they tried to use the first time…somehow. Oh and how dickish is it for the humans (and avatar-humans, don’t call them “blue cat fuckers,” that’s racist) to decide they would be the only ones that get guns while the full-blooded blue cat people only get bows and arrows, dragons, and strong language? Answer: intensely dickish.
Terrible Thing Seven: Humans can’t breathe on this planet. The planet has plants and mammals and reptiles and all sorts of shit we have here on earth, but an atmosphere that is completely toxic to humans? How could that possibly be? Oh right, because it makes it more convenient to kill the big boss at the end. You can’t arrow King Koopa like some punk ass goomba, you gotta throw him in the fire pit…er suffocate him with magical poison air.
Terrible Thing Eight: The whole planet is connected like the internet and so…resurrection? Hippie.Fucking.Nonesense. “We’re all connected mannnn! And like the answers all lie in nature and we should totally believe in any superstition that has some sort of white guilt associated with it.” This is the same bullshit that gets people to buy magnet bracelets to cure their cancer or believe that pot cures every fucking thing ever and not just the few specific things it actually helps just like any other medicine. What? You haven’t heard? Pot is not some magical elixir that will not make you live forever? Shocking Mr. Hippie I know, but you can still enjoy getting high, it’s ok. Actually, if you believe in glowing trees that turn people into blue cats that can breathe poison you should probably lay off the drugs. And that vortex nonsense? I wonder if it’s like other vortexes and I can at least get a t-shirt for pretending I buy that a geologist found a place that makes you look taller in pictures as long as you take a picture of someone else who is taller.
Terrible Thing Nine: Three fucking hour run time. I mean, what the ever-living fuck? With all the terribleness contained in this movie, what didn’t make it in?
“We’re running a little long, so let’s cut all the scenes that explain things and also the ones that make the characters
likable.” -- James Cameron on editing.
I feel really bad for the extra whose one scene got cut. “They kept 47,000 hours of blue butt monkeys riding dragons, but my line explaining why their arrows work now got cut?! Fuck you James Cameron!” Fuck him indeed. Don’t worry random extra, there will be other, hopefully better movies. Besides, with a cast of 588,000, this probably wasn’t your big break.
I’m sure I could go on, but 1,800 words are more than this disaster of a movie ever really deserved.
In conclusion, I am not speaking to Hollywood right now. How could it let this happen to us? Madagascar 3 and Brave better be unbelievably fucking excellent or I’m breaking up with you Hollywood. For good! I mean it this time! Get your fucking act together! Oh and also never let James Cameron near a film project or Michael Bay near a fond childhood memory. Cool? Kthanxbai.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Super Bowl as Disney Movie
I know I might be A LITTLE biased, but as I watched the Super Bowl, I kept thinking that Bilechick and Brady looked like the villains in a movie about hard work, good sportsmanship, and spirit, and Eli was the sweet country boy that refused to succumb to bullying douchebags. Bilechick just looked mean and angry every time the camera was on him, and Brady looked like the frat boy douche whose dad paid for him to get into college whereas Eli had to work really hard to qualify for a scholarship and so knows the value of things. The whole movie Brady harasses Eli and his friends, calling them "Bumpkins" and "Welfare kids" maybe there's even a scene involving chasing Eli in a pick-up truck while beer bottles fall out of the back of the truck. Then the big game comes and Eli's determination and sticking to his principles pays off and he wins the big game in a close and therefore thrilling victory proving that honesty and integrity mean more than money and good looks.
Also, Eli is a cutey patootey. You can quote me on that.
Anyway, I just finished a three hour drive back from visiting true Blue believers for the big game so I am tired and a little pissed and having to return to normal life. Therefore, I'm gonna keep this short and just say all that really needs to be said:
The New York Football Giants are number one. They all deserve mugs saying that. Or Super Bowl rings. I guess those work too.
Also, Eli is a cutey patootey. You can quote me on that.
Anyway, I just finished a three hour drive back from visiting true Blue believers for the big game so I am tired and a little pissed and having to return to normal life. Therefore, I'm gonna keep this short and just say all that really needs to be said:
The New York Football Giants are number one. They all deserve mugs saying that. Or Super Bowl rings. I guess those work too.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Of Groundhogs and Ass Kickings
Did everyone have a good Groundhog Day yesterday? Did everyone celebrate it by watching the Bill Murray classic Groundhog Day? That was my favorite movie for a few years when I was a kid. Though that was back when pretty much anything Bill Murray did was awesome. Before shit like The Royal Tenenbaums. A first date I went on back in the day wanted to see A Life Aquatic when it was first out, and within 15 minutes I stopped watching the movie and started watching my date laugh while thinking of elaborate escape plans and how this would be our last date. But anything pre-Rushmore that Mr. Murray was in is pure gold. He was also the best part of Zombieland, and the rest of that movie was pretty effin' good (I apparently say "effin'" now). My brother has the same birthday as Bill Murray. Badassery runs in the Toasty family. Here is a real conversation my brother and I had over text yesterday:
Toastmaster General (my brother): Have you watched Groundhog Day yet?
Me: No, it’s only like 1pm here [we live in different time zones].
TG: Toasty! You know the tradition! You wake up, watch Groundhog Day while eating donuts and juice, and then you can get back to sleepies.
Clearly Groundhog Day is serious business in my family.
Now on to other important news: the Super Bowl. Long time readers can probably guess where I stand. This Sunday feels like the retelling of the best story ever told. At least it better.
Now of course, if the New York Giants win I will be elated to the point of maybe actually hugging someone on purpose and not for the express purpose of getting laid. However, ideally I don’t just want the Giants to win. I want them to destroy the Patriots. I want it to be a legendary blow-out that will be spoken of in hushed, reverent tones until the end of time. I want the final score to be no less than 87 to no more than 0. By the fourth quarter I want our douchebag punter Steve Weatherford playing quarterback (because why the fuck not?) and the Patriots still can’t score a single fucking point. I want the loss to be so humiliating that the wives of every single player, coach, and staff member of the Patriot franchise simultaneously divorces them for the shame of their performance and the entire Patriot brand. I want “had anything to do with the 2012 New England Patriots” to be a new legally recognized reason for marital annulment.
TL;DR: Fuck the Patriots.
Though nobody wants the Patriots to loss more than my dad. When it was down to the Ravens or the Patriots, I admit I was leaning more towards wanting to play the Ravens, to help wash the bitter taste of the Super Bowl we do not speak of. But not my dad:
Me: So if we win the NFC Championship (psssh, if) then we’ll be playing the Ravens or the Patriots in the Super Bowl. Either way it’s a rematch.
Dad: Yeah, I want it to be the Patriots.
Me: Really? I mean, I’m always for beating the Patriots, but we kinda been there done that only four years ago. And the Ravens…well you know.
Dad: Yeah but no. I want to beat those scuzoids [this is seriously my dad’s version of swearing. I have never heard him say anything worse or even this bad about anyone in his whole life].
Me: Well, the Ravens could beat them and then they wouldn’t even make it to the Super Bowl.
Dad: Oh no, I want them to get to the Super Bowl so that they get their hopes up, then it’ll feel even worse when they lose. This maximizes the disappointment and hurt they will feel. Also, I want US to beat them. I want them to know who’s in charge.
Then he used the word “scuzoids” a few hundred more times before we hung up.
See, my dad grew up in New England so he has a long standing hatred of the New England Patriots and their fans. Just like how my brother and I grew up in the Washington, D.C. area and hate the Redskins almost as much as we love the Giants. Also the Redskins blow so hard the hookers on 9th should take notes.
I’m going to end with one last real life conversation relating to the upcoming game:
Roommate: You know Belichick was the defensive coordinator for the Giants under Bill Parcells?
Me: Yeah, then he decided to come out from under Parcells’ shadow and coach his own team only to discover he was nowhere near as talented and the only way he could win was by cheating.
Roommate: He has more Super Bowl rings than Parcells.
Me: From.Cheating.
Roommate: …fair enough.
[Side note: I just discovered that if you type “Belichick” into Google, the first auto-suggestion is “Belichick cheating”. Google knows what’s up].
Toastmaster General (my brother): Have you watched Groundhog Day yet?
Me: No, it’s only like 1pm here [we live in different time zones].
TG: Toasty! You know the tradition! You wake up, watch Groundhog Day while eating donuts and juice, and then you can get back to sleepies.
Clearly Groundhog Day is serious business in my family.
Now on to other important news: the Super Bowl. Long time readers can probably guess where I stand. This Sunday feels like the retelling of the best story ever told. At least it better.
Now of course, if the New York Giants win I will be elated to the point of maybe actually hugging someone on purpose and not for the express purpose of getting laid. However, ideally I don’t just want the Giants to win. I want them to destroy the Patriots. I want it to be a legendary blow-out that will be spoken of in hushed, reverent tones until the end of time. I want the final score to be no less than 87 to no more than 0. By the fourth quarter I want our douchebag punter Steve Weatherford playing quarterback (because why the fuck not?) and the Patriots still can’t score a single fucking point. I want the loss to be so humiliating that the wives of every single player, coach, and staff member of the Patriot franchise simultaneously divorces them for the shame of their performance and the entire Patriot brand. I want “had anything to do with the 2012 New England Patriots” to be a new legally recognized reason for marital annulment.
TL;DR: Fuck the Patriots.
Though nobody wants the Patriots to loss more than my dad. When it was down to the Ravens or the Patriots, I admit I was leaning more towards wanting to play the Ravens, to help wash the bitter taste of the Super Bowl we do not speak of. But not my dad:
Me: So if we win the NFC Championship (psssh, if) then we’ll be playing the Ravens or the Patriots in the Super Bowl. Either way it’s a rematch.
Dad: Yeah, I want it to be the Patriots.
Me: Really? I mean, I’m always for beating the Patriots, but we kinda been there done that only four years ago. And the Ravens…well you know.
Dad: Yeah but no. I want to beat those scuzoids [this is seriously my dad’s version of swearing. I have never heard him say anything worse or even this bad about anyone in his whole life].
Me: Well, the Ravens could beat them and then they wouldn’t even make it to the Super Bowl.
Dad: Oh no, I want them to get to the Super Bowl so that they get their hopes up, then it’ll feel even worse when they lose. This maximizes the disappointment and hurt they will feel. Also, I want US to beat them. I want them to know who’s in charge.
Then he used the word “scuzoids” a few hundred more times before we hung up.
See, my dad grew up in New England so he has a long standing hatred of the New England Patriots and their fans. Just like how my brother and I grew up in the Washington, D.C. area and hate the Redskins almost as much as we love the Giants. Also the Redskins blow so hard the hookers on 9th should take notes.
I’m going to end with one last real life conversation relating to the upcoming game:
Roommate: You know Belichick was the defensive coordinator for the Giants under Bill Parcells?
Me: Yeah, then he decided to come out from under Parcells’ shadow and coach his own team only to discover he was nowhere near as talented and the only way he could win was by cheating.
Roommate: He has more Super Bowl rings than Parcells.
Me: From.Cheating.
Roommate: …fair enough.
[Side note: I just discovered that if you type “Belichick” into Google, the first auto-suggestion is “Belichick cheating”. Google knows what’s up].
Thursday, February 2, 2012
New Favorite Music Video
Trust Toasty on this one and clickey the linky.
You know a song is great when even on mute it makes you feel...inspired.
Yes, I know this is from a while ago and the band is already broken up, but if you care more about who wins the internets than two girls making out, 1) you belong on buzzfeed or Reddit not the zlog and 2) your priorities fill me with a deep sadness.
You know a song is great when even on mute it makes you feel...inspired.
Yes, I know this is from a while ago and the band is already broken up, but if you care more about who wins the internets than two girls making out, 1) you belong on buzzfeed or Reddit not the zlog and 2) your priorities fill me with a deep sadness.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
RESURRECTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hello really really loyal followers, which at this point are the only followers I have left.
HI MOM!
(Kidding, there is no way in hell I'd let my mom read this).
Anyway, I come bearing exciting(?) announcements. First off, I am resurrecting the zlog. I am actually going to try to stick to a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule. I have no idea how. If I run out of stuff to write about I guess I'll just liveblog whatever's on the CW again. SO LOOK FORWARD TO THAT!
I've also decided on a kinda format. Mondays and Fridays will be the usual whatever I damn well feel like and Wednesdays I'm going to write about everybody's favorite subject: TV commercials. Sounds scintillating doesn't it? Just give it a chance, kay kay?
And that's it for now. What? Come on, wasn't all that enough? You know I give and I give and what do I get in return? The love of the best readers in the whole wide internet? Please?
HI MOM!
(Kidding, there is no way in hell I'd let my mom read this).
Anyway, I come bearing exciting(?) announcements. First off, I am resurrecting the zlog. I am actually going to try to stick to a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule. I have no idea how. If I run out of stuff to write about I guess I'll just liveblog whatever's on the CW again. SO LOOK FORWARD TO THAT!
I've also decided on a kinda format. Mondays and Fridays will be the usual whatever I damn well feel like and Wednesdays I'm going to write about everybody's favorite subject: TV commercials. Sounds scintillating doesn't it? Just give it a chance, kay kay?
And that's it for now. What? Come on, wasn't all that enough? You know I give and I give and what do I get in return? The love of the best readers in the whole wide internet? Please?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)