Sure, I'll Post It

DISCLAIMER: Alright, I actually wrote and posted this film review a few days ago. However, I removed it because I think that the writing sucks and it's too long. I'm going to repost it though because I feel bad that Skaht and I have been lazy about updating this thing and I know that we have a few readers out there. So, here's my shitty post about a movie:

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It’s pretty rare when I feel compelled to write a film review. That’s mostly due to the fact that I don’t really like movies. However, if Skaht manages to have me sit through one and I like it then hey, great. If the movie sucks then we’ll probably discuss why it sucked, be done with it and there you go.

This time it’s different because, well, here I am writing a film review. Last night, we watched The Haunting (1999 version) and it was so retarded that I was inspired to actually think about it long enough to mention it here. Seriously. This film is retarded. Retarded.

…I like saying “retarded”.

Anyway, I’m going to provide spoilers here, so if you actually want to spend $5 at Blockbuster and rent this thing, stop reading. I don’t know why you’d want to do that, but hey, I’m warning you anyway.

At first glance, I was actually psyched to see this movie. It looked like a classic haunted house type of tale which I really like. So, when Skaht and I found it, it didn’t take long to figure out that this was the film that we would use our free rental coupon on. After a dinner of Christmas left-overs and white Zinfandel champagne, we put it into my trusty PlayStation 2 (it doubles as my DVD player) and got comfy on the couch.

Shortly after the movie begins, Eleanor (a woman who has been confined inside, taking care of her dying mother for years), gets a call from an unidentified person, informing her of a sleep study that she should participate in. The details are vague, but in the paper, she learns that she would receive room, board and a $900 stipend per week. Not too shabby!

Some insignificant stuff happens next and then before you know it, Eleanor is on the road to the location of the study. After driving to the destination and consulting her map, she figures out that the huge, hulking mansion/castle in front of her is the correct place. The first image of the mansion/castle was so massive and fake looking that I began to wonder if this movie would end up being a huge CGI cheesefest. As the movie kept going, I realized that I was right.

Eleanor meets the caretaker and his dour, old wife who quickly informs her that once the night comes, no one will be around to help her should she need any assistance IN THE DARK. The wife repeats the same foreboding phrase to Theo (the next study participant), after she arrives as well. Theo is more interested in showing Eleanor her Prada boots and playing out her clichéd New York bisexual hot girl vibe, so she doesn’t really pay much attention. After this scene, an annoying super-anxious guy shows up and this completes the arrival of the study participants.

The three study participants meet the doctor in charge of the study plus his two assistants. Both assistants leave the mansion and never come back after one of them receives a facial wound from some supernatural force. How they leave is a mystery as the gates have been locked shut by the caretaker (and they remain locked after everyone tries to escape later on.) The house itself is gigantic and ornate and very fake looking – with lots of trap doors, heavy sculptures and a revolving, mirrored ballroom. The three ‘patients’ take to their rooms and have a few questionable things happen (these are supposed to be scary things, but they aren’t.) and then they go to bed. Meanwhile, we learn that the doctor isn’t concerned with studying their sleeping habits. Rather, he is interested in learning about how they cope with fear. Wow, what a jerk!

As the movie drags on, creepy things start happening to Eleanor and everyone starts questioning her sanity. Then, they blame the doctor for rigging up the house to make them all scared when they learn about the true intention of the study. Things change, however, when the good doctor himself is almost drowned by a blood spewing fountain sculpture in the greenhouse – making it undeniable to everyone that the house is insane, not Eleanor.

As far as scary imagery goes, this film has none. It’s billed as a “shriek filled funhouse”, but what you get is a lot of cheesy special effects and laughable dialogue. Did you ever see Casper the Friendly Ghost? You know the movie, not the cartoon? Well, most of the spirits in this movie look like him. I’m not joking. Fun scenes like a comical beheading by a fireplace ornament and a battle between Eleanor and a highly digitalized hawk sculpture come-to-life are additional worthy moments.

Look, I praise a good horror film that relies on minimal gore and effects to instill a sense of fear. But, this movie was so full of mediocre computer generated “grabby hands” and moving sculptures that it began to make a real mockery of itself. The best part came near the end when we find out that Eleanor’s great-grandad is actually the asshole who built the house in the first place and his spirit still imprisons the legions of children he killed in his textile mills way back in the day. So, the whole reason she ends up there (we find out) is because the house “needs her to protect the children.” Um. Ok. Seriously, Monkey could write a better screenplay then this.

Merry Christmas

and Happy Holidays

Christmas Gifts

Skaht and I gave each other our Christmas gifts early this year.

Skaht got us both spots in a ballroom dancing class. It starts on January 14th!! I'm sure that Skaht and I will tear it up. Look for us on the professional circuit sometime next year. Yeah, I think that we'll be that good. Seriously.

I made Skaht's present. It's a shrine to creativity (creative writing creativity.)

Here are some shots of it:









Materials:
Wood
Paint
Vintage papers and book excerpts (from the 1800's to 1940's)
Wire
Vintage glass beads
Bronze sparrows
Vintage typewriter keys
Peacock feathers
Lacquer
Dollhouse chair
Electric light
Cellophane
Love

Name that 80's band!

Well, actually that's just me and my friend George at my other friend's birthday party (Sara.) Looks authentic though. It inspired Alli P. (she took the photo) to propose a photo shoot in the near future. If we do the shoot, then maybe I'll be inspired to get back to learning electric guitar - since my guitar is rotting away in storage.

So yeah. Take heed. I might be famous some day. A famous old person. Holla!

Special Guest

Hey, everybody, Skaht here. We have a guest blogger today, Molly, from We Are Not Funny. She’s locking down her blog for a minute, since she’s looking for a job and her boyfriend’s mom has been reading her stuff. I think that’s kind of lameass behavior, but whatever. I woke up late today, and although I’m eager to post some stuff, it’s nice to have this as a place holder, especially since, knowing me, I probably won’t put up anything else today.

Molly’s stuff:

Hi Ya'll (thats how I say hello when I am a guest blogger) It's me Molly (mollybush.wordpress.com) Scott kindly let me guest-post-blog here because there was something I really wanted to write about. I was going to title it (cleverly) "What not to blog about when your boyfriends parents read your blog" But then I realized since this matter hits me close to home I really can't post it on my blog. It is, now, not safe for this type of literature. When I am no longer dying inside imagining my boyfriend's sweet mom reading my blog (and vomiting at my content) I will re-release it from it's hiding in the wordpress attic. I will then have a re-release party. You're invited, ya'll!!

Anyway, a couple things you shouldn't write about when your boyfriends family reads your blog. An important one is them. Yeah leave them out of it. Completely. Leave the Thanksgiving you spent with them in your mind and off the interents and don't mention making love (iIhave never referred to it as that in the blog) to their son in their home while they are home in their now guest room (pretty sure I didn't mention this, but I am too horrified to look at my blog at the moment) Don't use terms like "hate-fuck" in your blog. I know that, now. Don't link to a site for amputee porn and than say something like, "that makes sense, humping a peg leg could feel good" Yeah really don't do that. Just retyping that made me ill. Refrain from multiple usage of the word "cunt" and if they didn't know before reading your blog, don't out yourself for working at a tanning salon. Don't seem incredibly hateful and depressed. Parents like to think of you as happy, fun, adorable, innocent. Don't let your blog ruin that idea. Try not to use the term or coin the term Eye-AIDS, and if you absolutely must don't let it be applying to you. This might make them think their son was given a sexually transmitted diseases from you. GROTCH! Eeew, I just thought of another, don't write about how you never want to work. This may bring concern.

I have to actually stop this guest post, ya'll its making me incomfy. For now don't check my blog. But maybe check back soon. If I am alive inside again, ever.

Bye Ya'll

(PS – Skaht here, again. I didn’t edit Molly’s stuff. I just noticed the misspelling of “y’all.” Also, the picture is courtesy of me, a random Flickr search, and MS Paint.)

Snow

This morning I walked out to the first snow I’ve seen in Boston this year. The rain washed it away by the time I got to my office. I think I need to get a pair of boots. Somehow, I made it through all of last winter in Chuck Taylors without losing any toes to frost bite, and only slipping, falling and busting my head on the ground once. I guess it’s time to grow up, and by grow up, I mean I’m glad I finally have enough money (hardly any, but more than last year) to look at boots as a good purchase for winter instead of a frivolous indulgence for bourgeois pussies (people above the poverty line).

Another year older, and I find I’m colder this year. Last year, I wore hoodies or zip-up sweaters layered over T-shirts all through winter. This year, I’ve already found I need the added warmth of a long-sleeve shirt added to the mix. I guess that’s part of the slow march towards death, and I’m starting to understand why I see old people wearing cardigans in the summer.

I miss sledding, tubing, whatever, etc.

Picture of the Day

Call Me

Yo, dudes, I’m up blogging at you early-like. The drain in Tanya’s shower is fucked, so after she showered, getting up an hour before me, there were still a few inches of standing water up in there when I looked, so I skipped the morning shower. I took one yesterday evening after the gym and didn’t have a physically taxing night, so it’s no big deal. Besides, I’m wearing the same shirt I wore yesterday. What can I say? I like being a slob.

I saw a link to the Lame Game on Amy’s Facebook page and checked it out. I’m feeling it. They call out Boston for being the shitty smug city it is, and I always appreciate that. They need to step up their game, though, because it didn’t take me long to work through all their entries.

Since coming back from Pittsburgh the other week, I’ve been hating on the people in this city more than usual. It’s been tough going anywhere or doing anything. Yesterday, since it was in the 60’s, I decided to try to do some shopping on my lunch break. I went to Filene’s Basement, looking for some underwear. I’m kind of particular about it. Filene’s Basement almost always drives me into the red pretty quickly. I thought 2:30 on a week day might not be so bad, although I obviously factored in people Christmas shopping. It wasn’t too crowded. There was the usual mix of brand-hungry foreigners, gross old people, girlfriends buying cheesy shit for their boyfriends, neutered men shopping with their spouses/girlfriends/sisters, and predatory Newbury Street homosexuals. Man, pervy old dudes just camp out in the underwear section. I had to bail.

If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s gratuitous phone usage, which you’ll find plenty of in Boston. I work with someone who takes about 15 personal calls a day. Out trying to shop, I saw several people shopping while talking on the phone. Two days ago, while in a group having some normal conversation someone just had to look up some bullshit on their phone, for no reason. Even eating at Frank’s last night, people across from us had to make a couple phone calls just trying to confirm something, all, “Larry, do you remember the name of that steak place? No, okay I’ll try Carl…” Fuck you. People who talk on their phone at the gym are some of the worst. Some flisp has to be all, “Okay, I’ve got like twenty more minutes on the elliptical, then I’m just going to take a quick shower and put on my American Apparel leggings and Uggs and I’ll meet you at Starbucks.”

Tanya and I want to move. For now, I’m trying to convince her to stay in and watch movies.

RIP Miss Bettie

It saddens me to hear that Bettie Page passed away last week. She was definitely an inspiration for all of us Burlesque freaks and the occasional Goth girl (i.e. the "Bettie" haircut.)

Drinkin' and Dialin'

I’m happy Skaht said that it was ‘cute’ when I decided to drunk dial him multiple times last night on my way back from a friend’s birthday dinner. You see, I just wanted to give him a call and ask him to come over because I thought that it would be fun to hang out. I had no idea what time it was (past midnight on a weekday) and I was feelin’ fine from all those nice blackberry cosmos (seriously, they were good.) So, I figured – why the hell not? Skaht loves me and I’m sure that he’d want to stop by!

So, I proceeded to call and the phone just rang and rang before Skaht’s voicemail picked up. For some reason, I thought that there must have been something wrong with my phone, because if my phone had worked correctly, Skaht would have answered. I then called him again with the same results. On the third try, Skaht answered because the constant ringing of his phone must have woken him up or annoyed him to no end by this point. He didn’t sound upset or anything and I was psyched because I was all like – yay! My phone works!

Now that I had him on the phone, I started babbling and saying drunken cliché phrases like “come over here and do me” and “I miss you so much, I can’t stand it!” As I went on and on, I ended up walking right into a patio table, knocking over a plant and smashing into the back of some person’s bicycle on Mass Ave. The person wasn’t there, so that’s good.

Skaht finally told me that it was too late for him to come over and do me and that he was in bed already. I was sad but I let him go, walking into a trashcan as I hung up.

Sorry, Skaht.

I'm back

I’ve been meaning to blog at your asses, but shit has been hectic with work. Plus, I was in the Burgh for a minute after Thanksgiving and spent almost an entire week unmoored from the internet, something I highly recommend. I’ll possibly blog about the trip at some point.

Tanya has a pretty good strategy for lighting my blogging fire, though. She just posts a picture of me in which I look like I have Down syndrome. Then, I feel the need to post something so the pic is not at the top of the page. I guess I deserve that shit, though, since I make fun of people who look like they have Down syndrome but actually don’t have it. You know, that certain type of waddling baby-faced fat person. Come on, I know you know what I’m talking about.

Anyway, Tanya and I love animals. The next pet we want to get is a pug and we’re going to name her Nude Panties.

As you know, Tanya and I hit up the YouTube a lot. We’ve clocked many any hour watching funny pet videos. Still, sometimes we have divergent tastes.

For example, Tanya turned me on to Hamster on a Piano, and I’ll admit I really enjoy it.


However, this one had me howling with laughter for minutes, and Tanya just wasn’t as into it.


There’s this whole weird genre of fake animal farts on YouTube. It’s pretty awesome. There are also a lot of really phony suicides and suicide jokes. The internet is great.

Thank, God, some of the shit on the internet is real. This dog rules.

Surprise Day!

Today is Surprise Day.

I got Skaht delicious candied ginger:



Skaht got me 10 Mega Millions bets ($270 million payout!) (NOTE: Monkey is not freeze dried in this picture):

Together Forever

I’m in an odd mood today and as a result of that, I started looking at pet taxidermists online. Now, I’m not all psyched for Monkey to kick it (in fact, I’ll probably be completely crushed when he does), it’s just that the whole idea of stuffing your pet is very strange to me. I don’t understand why someone would do this. I can acknowledge that losing a pet can feel the same as losing your best friend, but why would you want to keep a shell of that pet around after death?

In some ways, I find the whole thing a bit disrespectful of the pet. Now I realize that once Monkey buys the farm, he’s not going to give a rat’s ass whether he’s six feet under in the backyard or frozen in the ‘sleeping kitty’ taxidermy position on my couch. But, I wouldn’t feel right making him have to be with me beyond death. It would feel like I was robbing him of eternal rest or something. Not only that, it would probably make me more sad about his death than if I just buried him. Every day, I would look into his hollow, lifeless marble eyes and wish that maybe today he’d decide to jump off the couch and attack my ankle, or beg for food or...anything, really.

I’m getting sad just writing this.

Num num num

I'm waiting for Skaht and I'm bored. So, I found this. It's like an alien face hugger sandwich! Yum!

VS Fashion Show

Ok, so I did end up watching a little bit of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show last night after I got home from dinner with Jen. I just watched the first ten minutes though, because I couldn’t slog through much more. I do think that if I end up getting a bottle of wine tonight, I might try to watch the rest online. But, that is only because I am a masochist and I like to torture myself. It’s sexy.

Anyway, the first few minutes had the annoying backstage cut-ins with some guy in an English accent yelling out model’s names and telling them to “get ready to work” (or something like that.) It was pretty retarded and I definitely think that this guy is the same guy that they had doing the same thing during the last three shows. So, he’s yelling and the camera work is all over the place in an attempt to make the whole thing feel exciting. I don’t know, do people find that exciting? I don’t understand why this kind of media style annoys me to no end, but it does. I was about to shut it off, but then Usher was coming on stage to perform and well, I totally had to watch Usher.

Usher comes on and does one of his Usher songs that everyone seems to know. Then, the models started coming in, one after the other. People started to freak out at this point. See, I get it…they are models in skimpy clothing and well, most people applaud that sight. But, the annoying celebrity that these models are met with is kind of irritating. Each one came out and did a ‘yo homey’ gesture to either Usher or the audience, and I have to tell you that watching these total white-ass women throwing shout-outs was kind of embarrassing. Why couldn’t this just be like a normal fashion show? Oh yeah, I forgot, these are THE Victoria’s Secret ANGELS. Totally different story..totally.

Fashion wise, the outfits that I saw were pretty bad. You always get a mixture of crap and creativity at fashion shows, but the first few get-ups were seriously lacking in any imagination. Basically, each model was wearing what looked like clearance rack lingerie from Walmart (in lovely shades of gym sock gray and beige.) Seriously, this is shit that my 60 year old mom probably wears. Over that, some models either had fabric haphazardly tied around them or weird, brown leather belt things that looked like something straight out of Braveheart. At this point, I was asking myself where is the glamour? Where are all the sparkles and big wings and fantastical sex nymph costumes? The opening outfits looked more like the remnants of some art school drop-out's failed creation than anything interesting. But, yeah, I did only watch the opening scene, so maybe all that came later (I guess I will find out tonight when I settle down with some booze.)

The models were models and I won’t dispute that most of them are or are not hot in some way. They all had the standard model body, which is fine…but, am I a freak to think that lingerie actually looks hotter on women with curves? Sure, the models are tall, but some of them still look a little too pre-pubescent boy for my tastes. I think that real hourglass figures are the hottest (you know, voluptuous with a skinny waist and full hips like a pin-up.) Most of the VS models just look like one long pair of thin legs with little in the way of curves. That's not a bad thing - I guess that I just find this body type more appropriate for high fashion than for lingerie modeling. For lingerie shows, I think that Dita Von Teese makes an excellent model. However, girlfriend is like 5 feet tall, so I guess that excludes her from Vicky Secret's elite model force. Too bad.

See, I think this kind of body is the epitome of sexy:


This one ain't bad by any means, but where the hips at girl?:


After watching the show for a bit, I grew bored (as predicted in my previous post) and decided to work on Skaht’s super surprise Christmas gift. It’s not a sexy gift, but at least it’s unique.

Newsflash: Victoria's Secret Sucks

I have a like-hate relationship with Victoria's Secret. I like it because I am a girlie girl and I like lingerie. However, I hate it because it is the epitome of every ridiculous mass-consumerist idea of what sexy should be. To be more concise, it's a place where everything has "sexy" written all over it because the marketing people think that most of us women need it all spelled out for us.

It's funny that the entire line of lingerie has been recently redesigned so it will look more feminine and retro, rather than the circus-pornstar fluorescent shit that they used to sell. I guess that sales started to plummet as more people left the store empty handed (it's difficult to find the sexy in lime green butt floss with sequins.) Hell, I do burlesque shows occasionally and I couldn't even justify any of that crap most of the time.

However, this rant comes on the heels of my most recent shopping excursion when I went in to use up some discount coupons on a couple of panties and shampoo. I really like their shampoo. It smells nice. But, it took damn near an hour to get through the process of buying it because I was accosted relentlessly by salespeople trying to get me to look at sweatpants (with "sexy" written on the ass), gross fragrance sets or credit card offers. I was bothered continuously by every staff member in the store. I can only imagine what a guy must feel like, should he shop there for his woman. But, then I remembered that only ya-doods without any semblance of creativity shop there for their girlfriends and I proceeded to not give a shit about that any more.

Note: if you want to impress your lady friend, blow some extra dimes on a gift from Agent Provocateur. The classiness and high sex appeal factor will score you extra in the bedroom. Trust me.

So yeah. I hate that place, but I still shop there sometimes. I still like to buy bras and panties and all that crap that women spend a fortune on. I do it, but then I hate myself later because I feel like I just bought into the gimmick. If only I had the funds to outfit myself correctly in some La Perla. Someday...someday.

Oh, and I hear that the VS fashion show is on tonight. Usually, I make a date to watch it because I love fashion shows and the VS wings and all - but, this year, I'm going to forgo it. The last two times I watched it, it was like 10 minutes of total fashion runway and 50 minutes of annoying backstage cut-ins showing models on speed preening for the camera and running around in heels. It was fucking boring. Not to mention, if I have to hear Heidi Klum and her annoying mangled English one more time, I'm going to jump off the roof. Too bad - it's a cool idea, but if I want to watch a train wreck, I'll just go over to eonline.com and look at some fun Britney Spears videos.