Publicity Whore

Mariah Carrey can be called many things . . . but publicity whore is what I am currently adhering to. Just take a look at that picture. It seems she went out with some friends (who were on a day pass from whatever mental institution they reside at) out to Koi, located in a part of town I'm obviously not allowed in. Papparazzi flock there to catch fleeting glimpses of celebrity-hood . . . and I guess Mariah decided that a photo-op with a homeless, wheelchair-bound man with a bad eye would be the perfect thing. According to where I pulled this picture from, the guy didn't even want to be photographed. I don't blame him, who would want to be pictured next to a loony bitch who's wearing something that looks like a bad print for window coverings purchased at IKEA during their semi-annual sale, which ends on Monday by the way. Make sure to head out there, and try to stuff as many things possible into your Volkswagen Jetta while sipping on your latte's from Starbucks.

Drunk of the Week

Pissing yourself when you're drunk is one thing . . . but grinning like an idiot immediately after is something else. What is this idiot thinking. You're crotch is covered in urine, take your damn shorts off. It's not cute, you look like a retard who forgot to wear her depends that day. There are times when the human race as a whole is let down by the actions of one. Hitler, Pol Pot, Saddamn Hussein . . . grinning drunk chick with the pissed shorts . . .

Tough Alba

According to a report found on www.femalefirst.co.uk, it seems that Jessica Alba is fond of punching sharks in the nose. Well, actually, she's only done it once, but hey, how many times to do you have to punch a shark to start enjoying it.

"Jessica Alba punched a shark on the nose when it got too close to her while filming her new movie.

The sexy actress was shooting underwater scenes in the Bahamas for upcoming film 'The Blue' when the deadly fish swam too close for comfort.

So the 24-year-old star lashed out and managed to scare the shark away.

She revealed: "I jabbed him on the nose and he swam off".

Meanwhile, Jessica has slammed her male co-stars for being wimps."

You have to take into consideration that her male co-stars for that particular movie are Paul Walker and Scott Caan. I could take those two in a fight no problem. I just need to secure myself a posse of sharks with laser beams attached to their heads, and we're good to go. I'm sure my shark posse would have a great time chomping down on that ginormous head Walker's sporting . . . and we ain't talking head as in the penile variety. Have you seen the noggin on that guy. It's like the Hindenburg resting on a pair of shoulders.

Oh, and before I get hateful messages demanding some sort of picture reference for Jessica Alba . . . here you go.

It Was Bound To Happen Eventually

I don't know how Ben Affleck conned Jennifer Garner into not only bearing his offspring, but also tying the knot with him. Here's a quote from the Superficial, who in turn is quoting the Enquirer ('cause I can't be bothered to go to the original source):

"Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck have secretly married, The National Enquirer can exclusively reveal … Wearing white, the pregnant Alias star sealed her union with Ben on a sandy beach on the Turks and Caicos island yesterday evening. With the sun setting, her costar Victor Garber watched as Jen, 33, and Ben, 32,embraced and kissed. The couple flew to the paradise hideaway yesterday morning.It is understood the couple are leaving the luxury resort Parrot Cay, where they spent their first night as a married couple, later today or tomorrow."

I know what you're saying to yourself. "It's the Enquirer, didn't they just run a story on the Bat-Boy and Bigfoot international peace summit they held in the headquarters of the United Nations?" Yeah, they do report on such things, but this one seems to be the least outlandish of their stories. About as believable as Mary "Can't Eat" Kate Olsen's eating disorder, or the fact that President GW Bush meets with aliens for regularly scheduled anal probing on a weekly basis. Oh wait, sorry, that's just Dick Cheney with his hand up his puppet. I get those things confused sometimes.

Ouch of The Day (6/30/05)

I'm all for fair play when it comes to sporting events . . . which I will take extreme measures not to participate in, but that's besides the point. Where was I, oh yes, playing dirty. Sometimes, I truly am tempted to just give up competition as a whole when I witness the extent of someone's desire to win. Take these two fella's. Never would I want to win so much that I would willingly cup another man's balls and shaft and give them a firm squeeze. I guess that's not in my nature. It is also not in my nature to play soccer . . . that whole ball to the face incident took care of that.

Upon further examination of that picture, it appears that the guy doing the squeezing is Vinnie Jones. Of Lock Stock/Snatch (haha, get it) fame. You know, he's such a badass, that this would probably be considered his handshake. A nice tug on the ol' jewels to say hello. So, in retrospect, or hindsight, or whatever backwards logic you want to use, this is perfectly ok. I just hope to never meet Mr Jones in a dark alley. I'm sure he'd say hello . . . and that greeting I am not going to be fond of.

Panic

I was gripped by a sudden realization today, an almost panic attack if you will. You see, it's well past noon, and I hadn't blogged yet. I had actually somewhat forgotten my just recently established blogging ritual. I don't know why I feel the urge to blog every single day . . . and multiple times at that. I guess I'm just a giver. Or maybe I'm just gay for blogging. Well, I'm not sure about that last sentence. I have not determined if the weblog has a masculine personae. I don't want to come to the conclusion that it has a female one, as the wife might get jealous about how much time I put into it. She might cut off my blogging priviledges at home. So far, the less I mention ridiculously embarrassing stuff that happens to her or involving her, the better.

So, yesterday, she was sitting on the porcelain throne we have and . . . haha! No, I'm kidding. She is a pristine being that has no need for defecating or urinating, and never ever ever passes gas. She is perfect, and if you (the reader) say anything about it, I will meet you in an open field for a duel. A gentleman's match where you can chose your weapons . . . flintlock pistols or dueling sabers. And we shall wear frilly shirts, tight pants that only go down to our calves and do a great job of accentuating our packages, and tube socks. Gotta have tube socks. I do this to defend my wife's honor, and so help me God, in that get up . . . I don't know what else I could do to achieve that goal.

Or, I could just have her deck you in the chin and lay you out. She comes from Irish descent, and I personally know she can punch hard. I can show you the bruises if you want. Sometimes, it's like I'm living a reverse Lifetime movie of the week existence. You've seen those made for television movies right? I really have no idea why women like to see other women get beat the shit up and tossed around only to, in the final 5 minutes, kill the abusive man. Does that final sequence make you women feel vindicated? And the poor acting . . . what's up with that?

Ouch of the Day (6/29/05)

If the road rash associated with falling off a moving motorcycle isn't enough . . . this guy's about to be crushed by the very same bike he just fell off of. Wow, talk about your bad luck. This is why I don't usually drive anything with less than three wheels. It's very hard to fall off a tricycle . . . err . . . I mean All Terrain Vehicle. Especially when it's decked out with streamers and baseball cards stuck to the wheelspokes. Yeah, I'm still talking about my ATV . . . don't freaking call it a tricycle!

I'm telling my mommie. You're soooo gonna be in trouble.

Getting The Shaft

I wish this post were about elevators, or golf clubs . . . or the purchasing of the seminal 70's blaxploitation classic. No, this morning, I got a phone call from the staffing agency. Let's call them "Asshole Staffing". They got a call this morning from the office in which I work, letting them know that I didn't need to come in today. Free day! Yay . . .well, if it were under normal circumstances, I'd be celebrating, but you see . . . I have absolutely zero days off. No sick days, no vacation time, zilch. Anyone who's worked on "temp" status can feel my pain right now.

A day lost at work essentially translates to a 1/5 loss in revenue for myself this particular week. I had my budget planned perfectly for the next two weeks, taking into account the UNPAID 4th of July holiday (this is certainly un-American) coming up. This really throws a wrench into the inner workings of my finances right now. Hey, know what you could do to help? Click on those damn "crisp ads" and "google" text ads. I need to make up the loss . . one quarter at a time.

The thing that really ticks me off though . . . apart from the loss of money; and there really isn't anything I hate more than losing money, is the way Asshole Staffing behaves towards yours truly. I have been a good little worker bee for them for well over a year. In that span of time, I have taken no more than 3 personal days. Any other absences were either unpaid holidays (Thanksgiving hurt the wallet quite a bit) or days like today, where I get the shaft. And they are so nice when they call about days like this too. It's like they've got this big grin on their stupid monkey faces when they decide to deliver bad news to me. God forbid I were to call in sick or for a personal matter that would keep me from going in that day. Oh no, then the attitude is palpable through the phone receiver. They are short, uncourteous, and a millimeter away from chopping my head off with their verbiage.

I don't understand why they act like this. It's fairly unprofessional if you ask me. Not that I am extermely pissed about it now at around noon-ish when I'm writing this from home. I got to take care of some car related things (wash & oil change), played some Halo 2 to let off some steam, and will most likely be going out for some greek food (I drool for feta cheese) and catch War of the Worlds later before the theaters get too crowded with the "just got out of work" crowds. The day is not a total loss. I also get to spend some quality time with the wife, which is always good. It just chaps my ass when I have to talk to Asshole Staffing. About anything. I just hope I don't get another one of these calls tomorrow morning. There's no way I'm missing two days in a row of work. I'm no workaholic . . . but I am addicted to fattening my bank account.

*Music I listed to while coming up with this entry:
Hurry Up And Wait - Stereophonics
Speed Dial No. 2 - Zero 7
Last Living Souls - Gorillaz
Wake Up - The Arcade Fire
Jonathan Fisk - Spoon
A Million Reasons - Stellastarr
These Days - Nico

Disturbing

Noticed this on my google ads (are you clicking on them??), and this seriously sent a chill down my spine. Dick Cheney for president in '08?! What? Are they serious? They want this slimy prick of a man to run the country? I guess if they want to keep their 12 year insurgency battle-strategy . . . he would be the right man for the job. I seriously will migrate north to Canada if the democrats lose the '08 election to this jackassed anti-christ. I don't care if I move to the frenchy area, anything would be better than living in a country run by a Dick.

Ouch of The Day (6/28/05)

Finally, break-dancing and soccer have combined to create the super-sport "Break-Ball". The fun and new innovative sport that will capture the hearts of pop-locking and ball dribbling youths alike.

Wait, that's not a new sport? Why would a guy be doing a spin on his head on the turf of a soccer field then? Something must have gone terribly wrong. I have no idea how he ended up in the position that he is in currently, but that would be something to watch. I've been the subject of "mat burn" (back during my high school wrasslin' days) . . . but never have I felt skin irritation brought on by a healthy rubbin' of grass. I'm thinking it's not pleasant. But hey, drop me a comment if I am wrong . . . which I never am by the way, but don't let that stop you. Never one to discourage conversation . . unless you annoy me.

Punks Engage

Avril Lavigne is reportedly engaged to the lead singer (using the term lightly here) of the "punk" band Sum 41. You can see the ring there on her finger. He must have used his "sell-out" money to buy it. More power to him. I'm still waiting for my undiscovered talent to be marketed to a mass audience. What's this talent? I can't tell you, it's top secret at this moment . . so quit sending me your used panties, the wife is getting pissed.

Anyway, back to Avril and her troll . . yeah, he kinda looks like one huh? You know, the troll dolls with the funky hair. I'm not ragging on him, some people (chemically imbalanced that is) find those things to be "super-cute". I am worried about my wife a little though, as she has a thing for Avril. I don't know why, she normally hates midgets, but this one she took a liking to. On the other hand, I'm kinda happy for Lavigne, since she found a mate that is about the same height as she is . . . and now she won't have to contend with a guy that keeps telling her "Come on baby, you're the right size, you don't even need to kneel down".

Last "Throes"

I don't like to get political (I'd much rather get physical . . ain't that right Olivia Newton John) but after watching the Daily Show last night, I was a bit incensed by the outlook of the Iraq conflict. Here we have the vice president Dick Cheney proclaiming on the Larry King Show that the insurgency was in it's "last throes" . . . only to have the general in charge of the operations making an appearance and saying that the violence has escalated. Then, you have Cheney trying to cover his ass saying that he was minsunderstood. That the last throes could be placid or violent. I don't get that. Why doesn't he just admit that he has his head up his ass? No, wouldn't want honesty in the White House . . . or the off-White House, or wherever the VP resides at.

Then, they show Donald Rumsfeld trying to back up his buddy Dick (if that sounded dirty . . . then good!). He also is trying to work around the definition of "throes" and puts down a timeline of anywhere between 2 - 12 years that these last throes will last. Twelve years!! Two years ago he wasn't sure if the conflict would last "6 days, 6 weeks, even 6 months". Now, he's sure that it's going to last at the most 12 years. Great, way to mishandle that issue. What a giant cluster-fuck this Iraq thing has become. Might as well bomb Iran while we're out there. Let our troops wander into Syria. Why not? We're there for the long run. I just would like to personally slap each and every one of the millions of Americans that helped elect this administration into a second term of office. The GW fluke should have ended in 2004. Now, we're stuck with these bastards 'til 2008.

Not only are they fixing to fuck up the military, sending our loved ones (both my brother and sister are marines) overseas to fight their personal vendettas (Hussein wanted to kill my daddy, I'll show him - GW Bush), but you know they'll be crippling the economy as well. With paying for the protracted war, the mythical privatization of the social security (great . . . you mean, all that money that I paid out to Social Security . . . I'm not going to see when I'm retired . . .oh yeah, you're great), and the tax rebates to the rich (how does this rebate check of $100 benefit me?) are going to leave this country in some sort of deep ruin.

At this rate, Canada is starting to look better and better each day.

S.U.V. Woes

I have been without my car for the past 3 1/2 days now. It's been with the guy working on my clutch. He had originally told me that the job would take about a day, two tops. Great, I could borrow one of the many automobiles that are parked outside of my parents' house. Maybe even my brother's . . . a zippy little Honda. Instead, on Friday, I end up driving my sister's Ford Escape SUV. She's out in Camp Le Jeune in one of the Carolinas. I forget if it's north or south, the fact is . . she's not currently using it.

Initially I was fine with the choice. Then, I started noticing the handling on this behemoth. Now, the Ford Escape is the smallest of the Ford SUV line, their compact choice if you will. Still, coming from driving a Focus, it is quite the change. I noticed decreased turn radiuses, a decline in handling, and the fact that I could not work the clutch like I did on my own car. All in all, it was a pretty shaky ride. Comfortable, but I felt off in that car. So high up, and always wondering if I was going to make the car tip over with a sharp maneouver.

Monday comes around, and the guy assures me that the clutch job will be finished by that night. As usual the wife and I head out to my parents' for Monday night dinner. This is a ritual we dare not pass up, since the home cooking is stupendous. Always something delicious and extremely filling. I still feel like a growing boy when I go there . . except . . . it's not vertical but horizontal growth that I'm putting on. I call the guy after dinner, and he tells me that he's having a hard time finding some sort of a seal that the transmission needs, or else it will leak oil all over the place. He tells me he needs one to two days extra, so he can do the job properly.

Ok, fine, I'll just keep borrowing the Escape and deal with the shitty handling. The only problem is, my mother needs it the next day, but she offers up her Cherokee. There's nothing I can do about the choice. I take it. Before we leave, we are told that it's pretty smelly in there. Apparently, during the winter, she forgot to roll up one of the windows and rain got in . . . the claim is confirmed when we get in to drive home. It smells bad. Woodsy.

If you've ever been camping for an extended period of time or know someone that has and then smelled them or have been smelled upon your return, then you could approximate just what the inside of this vehicle smells like. I'm grateful to have it so that I can go to and from work . . . it's just that the smell is terrible. The only good thing about it is it's automatic transmission, which will ensure a smoother ride while I'm using it. Other than that, the 15 minutes it takes me to get to and from work is going to be almost murder. I hope I can get my car tonight. Yeah, I'm saving 500 bucks on a repair, but it's costing me in other ways.

*Music I listed to while coming up with this entry:
Combat Baby - Metric
Looks Just Like The Sun - Broken Social Scene
Plans - Bloc Party
Let Go - Frou Frou
Michael - Franz Ferdinand
Stray Dog And The Chocolate Shake - Grandaddy
The Past and Pending - The Shins
Staring At The Sun - Simple Kid

King Kong Sighted

For those waiting for Peter Jackson's latest project . . . and were dumb enough to land on my little blog . . . I have to say one thing: "Do you know how to use your Google properly?" For those who just happened upon this and by chance noticed the title of the entry (I'm looking at you Blogexplosion'eers), then you're also in luck. Below is the link for what surely will be ruling the box office come December. I can't wait for this. My frumpy Kiwi void needs to be filled(not in the gay way you pervs). PJ has been absent from my cinematic life for way too long. Click on the link below . . . and I pray for your souls that you have the necessary Quicktime plug-in.

King Kong Link

Ouch of The Day (6/27/05)

Can you say concussion? I bet you the guy on the receiving end of that tackle can't. Well, at least anymore. I'm pretty sure he was able to say all sorts of big words, but these days, I'm willing to bet that the extent of his vocabulary is "Me want to go pee-pee/poopy/sleepy". Or anything as complex as that. What you're witnessing is a life changing impact. Just look at that eye, it looks like it's about to pop right out of his socket.

While we're at this, I'd like to mention that I don't remember much of middle school. Back then, we used to play full contact football minus the pads. I'm wondering if that had any thing to do with that. Me want sleepy now . . .

Jack Nicholson Loves Dildos

I have to hand it to ol' Jackie boy, he sure does have brass balls. I guess they complement his black dildo pretty well, and it is a shame that they are not prominently displayed. A shame for the female readers (if there are any) that is. Me, I'd rather Nicholson keep his privates private. I mean, they are called privates for a reason. When I first saw this, I did do a double-take. For a split-second, I thought that was just a well tanned Lara Flynn Boyle dangling from between his legs. I guess it was that look on his face that led me to believe that. If I had Lara Flynn Boyle between my legs I'd have that same scared shitless look as well. Woman looks like she hasn't eaten in decades, and this might lead her to be a "biter". Ouch.

How Much is that Roadside Assistance?

As previously reported, the "Dukes of Hazard" movie had been pulled over by legal issues concerning a little copyright issue with the 1975 flick "Moonrunners" that the television show drew it's inspiration from. Well, looks like the movie was able to get a little roadside assistance with that legal matter, and paid out a fat five million dollars to the producer of "Moonrunners" to keep it's August 5th opening date solid. Fans of short shorts and frivolous lawsuits can rejoice now. Justice has been served. Just make sure you take plenty of moist towelettes when you catch this opening weekend, and try to avoid any Pee Wee Herman-esque legal matters.

Land of The Dead Visited

Finally got around to catching George A. Romero's latest zombie-fest "Land of The Dead" this past Sunday at the Burbank AMC. After the initial attempt on Friday . . . ahem ahem . . . I was glad to be able to catch a movie that's pretty much been twenty years in the making.

So, apart from the zombies . . . what's going on with this movie. After the initial credit sequences, we learn that some time ago, the dead and recently deceased had started to rise and attack the living. It's not an isolated incident, and soon most of the world is overrun. Cut back to the present, and we meet a rag-tag group of mercenaries that work for Kaufman (played by Dennis Hopper), the man in charge of Fiddler's Green.

These guys are led by Riley, who's on his last outing. He's retiring as of that night, and he wants to have an uneventful supply run. The group descends on a small town, raiding the supermarket and the liquor store. Liquor not being an essential, but Cholo (played by John Leguizamo) gets it for its value on the black market, and he also wants to impress Kaufman.

All Cholo wants in this post-apocalyptic world is have his spot on the luxurious Fiddler's Green building. This is the glowing spire in one of humanity's last bastions, and it comes complete with restaurants, shopping areas, and its very own Enron-esque logo. Cholo has been doing these supply runs for Kaufman, as well as taking care of his "garbage" for almost three years now, and he feels his time has come.

The band of mercenaries return to the city with their take after losing one of their own to a zombie, Riley and his "idiot" Charlie go off to look for his ride out of town. Cholo goes off to meet with Kaufman to make his proposal for prestigious membership in Fiddler's Green. This is when he realizes that he is not good enough, and never will be good enough in Kaufman's eyes to be a part of that. Cholo manages to escape turning into "garbage" at the hands of Kaufman's goons, and decides to take his team out and steal the "Dead Reckoning" . . . a truly badass tank/truck/missile launching platform. His purpose, to have Kaufman cough up a large amount of dough in exchange for not blowing the crap out of the city.

Meanwhile, angered by the repeated attacks by the humans, the zombies are starting to mobilize. After years of just stumbling around, they are now led by a former gas attendant only known as "Big Daddy". He leads the zombie horde to the glowing tower he sees in the distant. They are going to take the fight to the aggressors, and they learn how to overcome obstacles. They have become problem solving zombies.

Riley in the meantime, learns his ride has been taken, tries to figure out what happened to it, and learns Kaufman is behind it, and doesn't want to let him go just yet. He's got another purpose for him, as he sends Riley out to retrieve the "Dead Reckoning" from Cholo. He reluctantly agrees, and with his ol' pal Charlie and hottie Asia Argento (the daughter of horror legend Dario Argento), they head out into the wastes to do Kaufman's dirty work . . . but is that what they truly intend on doing?

Telling you more about this would mean wandering into spoiler territory. What you can expect from this movie is lots of zombie action, some great set pieces, and a general sense of dread mixed in with some really funny socio-political commentary. It's a bit subtle and played for laughs when it appears, but still relevant. Don't let the box office numbers fool you. When I went to see it, the theater was packed, and it was 4:15 on a Sunday afternoon. I predict this will make it's 15 million budget back by the end of next week, and I hope it does more business after that. The stage is set for at least two sequels to this that Romero is already tentatively talking about. I want my zombie action, and I want it soon. Don't miss out on this. And if you don't think it's a family movie, don't worry, I saw a fair amount of young'uns at the theater. Depending on your point of view, that could either be bad parenting . . . or pretty much the most awesome parenting known to man.

I know I'll be taking my offspring to watch horror movies when they're three or four . . . much to my wife's future chagrin.

Stood Up

After more than two years of marriage I was almost certain that getting stood up was pretty much a thing of the past. So I wasn't ready for it when the concept reared it's ugly head last night. As you may remember (and if you don't, scroll down a couple of entries) I was all set to go watch George A. Romero's Land of The Dead last night. So, was it the wife that decided to not show up as she had promised to do so? No, she was right there with me as the showtime came and went and The Sal for some unbeknownst reason decided not to show up.

Yes, The Sal stood us up. We had decided to all go together to this zombie flick, and as I left work Friday afternoon, I noticed him buying tickets online. I figured that I might as well get that over with so I wouldn't hassle with it later that night. I handed him a twenty and told him to get Heather and I pair while he was doing that. He said sure, and after a little confusion (The Sal - "It's not even playing at that theater man" Me-"Scroll down and look for George A Romero's" The Sal - "oh, there it is"), an agreement was made to meet up at the Paseo Colorado 14 at 10-ish. The show was at 10:10pm, and he assured me that he did this all the time. He showed up minutes prior to the movie, swiped something or other, and went into the theater.

10:10pm comes along. The wife and I have been waiting for The Sal outside the box office area on the little metal chairs for about half an hour. He is nowhere to be seen. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been much of a problem for me, but I had given him the ticket money, so I had techinically already paid. 10:11pm comes around and I say "Fuck it", I go to the credit card ticket dispensing machine . . . only to find it's out of commission. In fact, the whole theater's Credit Card/ATM system is down.

So, you might be saying to yourself "There's usually 10-15 minutes of previews, did you wait for him?" We did, til 10:20, at which time, feeling pissed and thwarted, we could no longer wait for him. If there's something I hate is paying for a movie and missing the first few scenes of a movie. So we left. I don't know if he showed up after. If he did, I hope he got a refund for the extra two tix, because I'll be damned if I don't get my 20 bucks back from him on Monday when I see his ass again.

The only fortunate thing about missing the movie though . . . validated parking. That, and the DVD zombie marathon that my wife suggested we partake in instead. She's such a trooper. Don't tell anyone, but she says she's starting to enjoy the zombie horror genre.

*Music I listed to while coming up with this post:
Guilty Cubicles - Broken Social Scene
Vegas Two Times - Stereophonics
Winding Road - Bonnie Somerville
Hear Me Out - Frou Frou
30 Century Man - Scott Walker
I'm Never Bored - The Walkmen
Against All Odds - The Postal Service
P45 (5/4) - Gorillaz Vs Space Monkeyz

Ouch of The Day (6/24/05)

I love seeing people getting hit in the face almost as much as I enjoy seeing people getting it in the groin. So, when I came across this little picture, at first, I was ecstatic . . . but then, a repressed memory arose. You see, back in the 2nd grade, during P.E., I was the victim of a soccer ball to the face. It was a very traumatic experience. And, I had been dealing with it with the help of anti-depressants (screw you Tom Cruise! *sobs*) until I eventually had no need for them. Now, the feelings have re-surfaced. If you want to help, leave me a comment. I will be taking PayPal donations to seek psychiatric help. Maybe I can get Brooke Shields' shrink to prescribe me some Paxil.

And no, this isn't a ploy to extract money from you through pity . . . . or is it? Mwahahahaha . . . .