Hey guys! It's been a while since my last post, only because I had no idea what to write about. I've been having these really bizarre, recurring dreams lately, so I figured I'd ramble on about that.
1. I've visited this weird house in my dreams quite a bit. The house is a mansion with sprawling floors, weird staircases and an attic that scares the shit out of me. As you walk through the house, there are staircases that lead up to floors, but there are staircases that run parallel to each other as well as adjacent, so there are platforms that have four different ways to get up to it. There are also floors that have stairs leading to it, then a slight bend-around leading to more stairs. The best way I can think of to describe the layout is an old Victorian house with museum-like stairs with a Winchester Mystery House type feel. There's nothing super creepy about the stairs themselves, but the sprawling layout makes it easy to get lost, which builds panic.
As for the attic, which still creep me out thinking about it, it's a dank smelly place that's hard to see in, no matter what the lighting. To get to the attic, you go down a long, dim hallway, At the end of the hallway is a very narrow, metal spiral staircase. The stairs are so close and tight together that you have to hunch down to even walk up them. Once you reach the top of the stairs, there's a gift shop sort of place that is only illuminated by a single hanging light bulb. I call it a gift shop because there are crappy little trinkets that are creepy that seem to be for sale, but this part of the house is so far away from anything else that there's never anyone in there but me. The creepy trinket things are old toys that have eyes that stare at you. There is a little stained glass window that brings only a faint bit of illumination. If you look through the center hole of the stained glass window, which is translucent, you can see an old cafe with cars from the 1930s parked in front: Keep in mind that these dreams take place in modern times. To get into the attic, there's a folding ladder that drops down from that roof that you're supposed to climb. The opening to the attic is blacked out, there's no illumination at all, and there's a freezing cold draft coming from the opening: I've never gone into the attic.
I've dreamed about this house many times for many years, and I've been in the "gift shop" just as many. The most recent time I've visited it, I came down from the "gift shop" and as I was walking down the main flight of stairs to one of the landings, this bright, vividly colored specter came floating through the window towards me. The best way I can describe the way it looked is if you could remove everything from the human body but the veins and then pumped the brightest neon lights through them, that's how the specter looked. She introduced herself as my grandmother and I nearly choked. I had that feeling you get in dreams where you go to scream, talk or simply say anything and nothing comes out but *uuuuugggggghhhhh*. As quickly as she appeared, she left. Kara was sitting on the landing typing on her computer, unaware of the specter that was maybe thirty feet from her.
That was the last visit to the house I've had. I'll let you know if it comes back.
I've had three other recurring dreams, but I don't want this post to be a novel, so I'll post those on other days. Just so I don't forget, though, they're about Hawaii, New Mexico and Beaumont. Stay tuned!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
How to make a proper fire
With the holiday season upon us, a roaring fire is a wonderful and magical way to warm your bones and keep your heating bill low. I'm not talking about one of those faggy fireplace fires, though. I'm talking about a roaring, fuck off bonfire in your backyard. A fire so brutal the fire department might actually show up and shut down your fun. The steps are simple, but must be followed to the T.
1. Convince your roommate to buy a new TV; A giant HDTV that's improperly calibrated so even the highest budget movie looks like a BBC documentary. Once this step is done, proceed to step two.
2. In order to make room for the new beast of a TV, move the old 60" rear projection TV up to your loft. In the loft you will find an old cabinet that weighs a ton: Move this to the backyard to make room for the rear projo, and move all your roommate's trophies to the backyard as well.
3. This next step is crucial: Let the cabinet sit outside, decorated in trophies, for AT LEAST a week. This sitting period will allow enough time for this once-proud cabinet to sit and lose all it's self esteem. For the longest time, this cabinet had a feeling of pride, holding all your outdated shit, it had a feeling of self-worth. This week will reduce it's sense of being, and, in doing so, compromise it's structural integrity, allowing it to be easily smashed with a sledgehammer later.
4. After a week, you need to have an allergy attack. I'm talking puffy eyes, stuffed nose, sore throat, sneezing fits that hurt your lungs, the whole nine yards. When you wake up, you're going to feel like a bag of shit run over twice. This is also a key step, so don't skip it, lest you fuck up the fire-making process.
5. Wait. What, you might ask yourself, am I waiting for? You're waiting for Randall Klinkenborg to show up on your doorstep full of piss and vinegar. Once Randal is at your house, it is time to commence the bonfire festivities.
6. In your backyard, you should find a ten pound sledge hammer. Once the hammer is located, whip Randall into a hate-filled rage by taunting him, shouting obscenities and depriving him of food.
In retrospect, all of these steps are crucial and should be treated as such.
7. Now that Randall is in a rage, take the first swing at the cabinet, only after removing all your roommate's trophies. He'll be in Vegas, and smashed mementos is a sight no one wants to come home to after a long weekend of beating prostitutes in the desert. The first swing is crucial: Put a giant hole right in top of it, let it know who's boss. If you can't wield such a manly tool as a hammer of sledge, go back to step one, but add a zero step: Work out for a month solid eating a high protein diet until you have a physique equivalent to that of Henry Rollins.
8. Now that you've made the top of this cabinet your bitch, hand the sledgehammer to Randall and step back: It's showtime. If you worked Randal into a proper hate-filled whirlwind, he rip that fucker a new asshole in about two minutes. Stand back and drink grape soda as he destroys what once was a cabinet.
9. You're now left with a giant mess of wood splinters and large planks. Now you can exercise your creativity. Beat the large pieces into smaller pieces, smash metal pieces into flat slammer-esque pieces, whatever your little heart desires. Go nuts, and party hard.
10. One the cabinet has been reduced to a weeping pile of oak and particle board shreds, clean up the mess while enjoying a smoke. Once this step is over and done, it's fire time motherfuckers.
11. In an old burnt out washing machine drum, stack cigarette butts, tennis balls, trash and three to four planks of wood in a tee pee style pyre. Dance around and make false sacrifices to the fire gods as you do so, they will award you with a roaring fire in a few minutes, so pay your goddamn respects, punk. In your recycling bin you'll find an old Coors Light 24 pack box: Rip it to shreds with your bare hands.
12. Once said box has been mutilated, stack the mangled pieces strategically in between the posts of the pyre. Here comes the fun part: Light that shit on fire.
If you've done everything correctly, the crappy beer box with ignite with the heat and power of a million suns, immediately engulfing the cabinet's skeleton in licking flames. If this doesn't happen, return to step 7 and rage again. We'll see you in a few steps, you human loser.
13. In order to keep the flame alive, throw more and more chunks of the wood into the fire. Not so many pieces that you suffocate it, but just enough to make it crackle with hate. Keep doing this till you're either out of wood, or the Po Po shuts you down.
Congratulations, you're now the proud owner of a fiery inferno! There are ways to gain style points as well, and these points make all the difference; If you gain enough, the fire god will appease you with a thunder and lightening show, which only adds to the chaos you've created. Great ways to get said style points are as follows:
A. Conduct fire safety with a baseball bat. If an ember leaps out to spoil your fun and burn down your house, beat the little turd senseless with a bat. You'll feel great and look good at the same time.
B. Throw pine needles in the fire. The crackling noise they make seems to please the gods, as they listen on with warm hearts.
C. Try to make a sword out of the various hinges and runners of metal that used to serve a purpose in the cabinet. You'll fail ever time, but Loki the fire god will smile upon your efforts and reward you with a bitchin' bolt of lightening. He's a real swell dude.
D. For a great show, throw things like glue and dead bugs into the blazing inferno. Glue is good for the lulz and emit a terrible smell. Bugs snap crackle and pop like your favorite childhood breakfast cereal, but I do not recommend eating the final product. Cellophane wrappers also burn like Pikeys in a campsite.
E. Finish a 100ml bottle of grape soda for the ultimate bonus points. It will taste like shit, but no pain, no gain.
Happy Holidays from Lost July, and don't burn your house down.
Kettner
And as always, check out Lost July Comics, we'll have some new nuggets of fun for you guys in just a short while.
1. Convince your roommate to buy a new TV; A giant HDTV that's improperly calibrated so even the highest budget movie looks like a BBC documentary. Once this step is done, proceed to step two.
2. In order to make room for the new beast of a TV, move the old 60" rear projection TV up to your loft. In the loft you will find an old cabinet that weighs a ton: Move this to the backyard to make room for the rear projo, and move all your roommate's trophies to the backyard as well.
3. This next step is crucial: Let the cabinet sit outside, decorated in trophies, for AT LEAST a week. This sitting period will allow enough time for this once-proud cabinet to sit and lose all it's self esteem. For the longest time, this cabinet had a feeling of pride, holding all your outdated shit, it had a feeling of self-worth. This week will reduce it's sense of being, and, in doing so, compromise it's structural integrity, allowing it to be easily smashed with a sledgehammer later.
4. After a week, you need to have an allergy attack. I'm talking puffy eyes, stuffed nose, sore throat, sneezing fits that hurt your lungs, the whole nine yards. When you wake up, you're going to feel like a bag of shit run over twice. This is also a key step, so don't skip it, lest you fuck up the fire-making process.
5. Wait. What, you might ask yourself, am I waiting for? You're waiting for Randall Klinkenborg to show up on your doorstep full of piss and vinegar. Once Randal is at your house, it is time to commence the bonfire festivities.
6. In your backyard, you should find a ten pound sledge hammer. Once the hammer is located, whip Randall into a hate-filled rage by taunting him, shouting obscenities and depriving him of food.
In retrospect, all of these steps are crucial and should be treated as such.
7. Now that Randall is in a rage, take the first swing at the cabinet, only after removing all your roommate's trophies. He'll be in Vegas, and smashed mementos is a sight no one wants to come home to after a long weekend of beating prostitutes in the desert. The first swing is crucial: Put a giant hole right in top of it, let it know who's boss. If you can't wield such a manly tool as a hammer of sledge, go back to step one, but add a zero step: Work out for a month solid eating a high protein diet until you have a physique equivalent to that of Henry Rollins.
8. Now that you've made the top of this cabinet your bitch, hand the sledgehammer to Randall and step back: It's showtime. If you worked Randal into a proper hate-filled whirlwind, he rip that fucker a new asshole in about two minutes. Stand back and drink grape soda as he destroys what once was a cabinet.
9. You're now left with a giant mess of wood splinters and large planks. Now you can exercise your creativity. Beat the large pieces into smaller pieces, smash metal pieces into flat slammer-esque pieces, whatever your little heart desires. Go nuts, and party hard.
10. One the cabinet has been reduced to a weeping pile of oak and particle board shreds, clean up the mess while enjoying a smoke. Once this step is over and done, it's fire time motherfuckers.
11. In an old burnt out washing machine drum, stack cigarette butts, tennis balls, trash and three to four planks of wood in a tee pee style pyre. Dance around and make false sacrifices to the fire gods as you do so, they will award you with a roaring fire in a few minutes, so pay your goddamn respects, punk. In your recycling bin you'll find an old Coors Light 24 pack box: Rip it to shreds with your bare hands.
12. Once said box has been mutilated, stack the mangled pieces strategically in between the posts of the pyre. Here comes the fun part: Light that shit on fire.
If you've done everything correctly, the crappy beer box with ignite with the heat and power of a million suns, immediately engulfing the cabinet's skeleton in licking flames. If this doesn't happen, return to step 7 and rage again. We'll see you in a few steps, you human loser.
13. In order to keep the flame alive, throw more and more chunks of the wood into the fire. Not so many pieces that you suffocate it, but just enough to make it crackle with hate. Keep doing this till you're either out of wood, or the Po Po shuts you down.
Congratulations, you're now the proud owner of a fiery inferno! There are ways to gain style points as well, and these points make all the difference; If you gain enough, the fire god will appease you with a thunder and lightening show, which only adds to the chaos you've created. Great ways to get said style points are as follows:
A. Conduct fire safety with a baseball bat. If an ember leaps out to spoil your fun and burn down your house, beat the little turd senseless with a bat. You'll feel great and look good at the same time.
B. Throw pine needles in the fire. The crackling noise they make seems to please the gods, as they listen on with warm hearts.
C. Try to make a sword out of the various hinges and runners of metal that used to serve a purpose in the cabinet. You'll fail ever time, but Loki the fire god will smile upon your efforts and reward you with a bitchin' bolt of lightening. He's a real swell dude.
D. For a great show, throw things like glue and dead bugs into the blazing inferno. Glue is good for the lulz and emit a terrible smell. Bugs snap crackle and pop like your favorite childhood breakfast cereal, but I do not recommend eating the final product. Cellophane wrappers also burn like Pikeys in a campsite.
E. Finish a 100ml bottle of grape soda for the ultimate bonus points. It will taste like shit, but no pain, no gain.
Happy Holidays from Lost July, and don't burn your house down.
Kettner
And as always, check out Lost July Comics, we'll have some new nuggets of fun for you guys in just a short while.
Pic related, it's Randall making a mess
Monday, November 22, 2010
Wasted youth
When I was a kid and it would rain on the weekends, I would go into a small scale depression. I lived for the outside world: Climbing trees, learning backflips on the trampoline, exercising my overactive imagination by playing Jurassic Park in the backyard, running around, playing on the jungle gym, the list could go on for days. But every now and then, rain would shit all over my parade and I would be trapped inside for the whole weekend.
This weekend Southern California saw more steady rain than it usually does, which is none. For two solid days the rain came down. For about an hour there was one window of opportunity where the sun came out, but I didn't see any of the neighborhood kids capitalizing on the sunshine. If I was a kid, I would've grabbed my bike and squeezed in any dry time I could have. My guess is that kids were too busy with their Dan Fogleberg music and Pac Man videogames to even notice the rain had subsided.
With the birth of video games, childhood obesity being the epidemic it is and every other invention that's come out with the sole purpose of keeping kids indoors, I wonder if kids even care about the rain anymore. I wonder if kids sit by the window like I used to and just stare at the outside world, longing to go climb a tree or play tag. Or maybe nowadays kids pray for rainy days so that they have an excuse to not go outside. Now they have a perfect excuse to sit inside and play Halo.
I guess I won't know until I have kids myself, but I'm hoping that children still enjoy the outdoors as much as we used to.
New comic coming soon!
This weekend Southern California saw more steady rain than it usually does, which is none. For two solid days the rain came down. For about an hour there was one window of opportunity where the sun came out, but I didn't see any of the neighborhood kids capitalizing on the sunshine. If I was a kid, I would've grabbed my bike and squeezed in any dry time I could have. My guess is that kids were too busy with their Dan Fogleberg music and Pac Man videogames to even notice the rain had subsided.
With the birth of video games, childhood obesity being the epidemic it is and every other invention that's come out with the sole purpose of keeping kids indoors, I wonder if kids even care about the rain anymore. I wonder if kids sit by the window like I used to and just stare at the outside world, longing to go climb a tree or play tag. Or maybe nowadays kids pray for rainy days so that they have an excuse to not go outside. Now they have a perfect excuse to sit inside and play Halo.
I guess I won't know until I have kids myself, but I'm hoping that children still enjoy the outdoors as much as we used to.
New comic coming soon!
Friday, November 19, 2010
Grocery Shopping
"Is fucking fun" are the words that should've sprung immediately to mind. If those weren't your initial word choices you are either A. Someone who doesn't cuss(Start, it's liberating) or B. A mental infant.
As you grow older, simple pleasures get harder and harder to come by; Shopping is one of the greatest pleasures one can have as a grown up. I anxiously await pay day knowing that a magical trip to the Food Library(Or "grocery store", for those of you who are slang-challenged) is rapidly approaching. There are literally over 9,000 food things to buy in these places, and I recommend you try all of them. They're all delicious. Aside from okra, that is, that shit looks like boogers.
With so many items to choose from and millions of combinations to use said items in, you're single-handedly in charge of your diet for the next pay period. Now, this can seem, scary, terrifying even, but it gets easier children. And take my word on this, you'll be terrible at it at first. Fish sticks and buffalo wings are not acceptable things to buy, especially if that's all you're buying. One week will pass with one week remaining till you get paid again, and you'll be out of wings/sticks, out of money, and out of luck. You just committed rookie offense number one: Buying food like a dipshit. Now you're eating Ramen and pissing off all your friends by bumming 99 cent Del Taco burritos off them. Don't be that kid, everyone hates him.
My personal favorite place to buy food at is a magical dreamland called WinCo: It's a culinary Disneyland without some retardedly high entrance fee. Why do I like Winco so much? One word: BULK. Spaghetti in bulk? Why yes, I love noodles. Rice in bulk? I'll take 12 pounds, which, once you steam it, equates out to about 1,000,000 pounds of starchy awesomeness.
Side note: "Awesomeness" didn't get the squiggly "Hey moron, you spelled that word wrong" line that Firefox loves to plaster all over my blog, but "combinations" did. S-T-U-P-I-D.
Back to how awesome WinCo is. Now, I, much like you people that read the drivel I type up for you, don;t have a lot of money to spend on things like food. WinCo is cheap as all hell, and if you can buy it in bulk, holy GOD the savings are amazing. I just got 6.39 lbs of whole wheat flower for $2.88. That's about 40 pizza crusts. PARTY! Hazard a guess as to how much 6.93 lbs of spaghetti set me back.
$5.47
Hell. Yeah.
Now, if you have proper storage for all this shit that you have no chance in hell of using over the course of two weeks, you probably won't have to do serious shopping again the next check. Maybe a few things, more tomato sauce, more black olives, blah blah blah. The point is, go insane. Set yourself a reasonable budget, then go apeshit insane buying things. I never stay within my budget, I usually overshoot it by anywhere from $40 to $60. This is disappointing, but who cares? Food is good for your brain, it's good for your health, and what else are you going to spend your money on. Hookers? Buy a steak instead, it won't give you Chlamydia.
Also, learn to cook. Cooking doesn't take a lot of effort or even any real mastery of the kitchen. Watch The Food Channel from time to time or head to Barnes and Noble and get a cheap, shitty cook book. Not only will your taste buds thank you, but you'll pull in stupid amounts of ass. Chicks dig a guy that can cook; Ask one, they'll tell you. If your cooking-challenged, a Food Library can seem scary or pointless, because you can't see the potential, nay, the magic that awaits you beyond those sliding doors.
Something fun to try: If you like Star Wars, pretend to use Force Open whenever you walk through the automatic doors. You'll feel like a Jedi and you'll get to go grocery shopping. Win win.
I believe this is my longest post yet, which is saying something about grocery shopping day. Aside from snuggling my girlfriend, trips to Stone Brewery to refill my growler for cheap, warming up in sweatpants under a blanket on a rainy winter day while watching Pokemon and eating Ramen, or the first taste of Pho of the year, there are very few simple pleasures left these days. Grow to love grocery day. Don't look at it as "Oh ho hum, I have to go buy food. Dildos." Look at it as you're starting the first chapter of your very own two-week-long Choose Your Own Adventure book.
Do you look in the cabinet(Page 32) or drive to Carl's Jr.(Page 56)?
You open the cabinet and find Spaghetti(Page 2) and Funyuns(Page 241). What do you eat?
You eat Funyuns. You are stupid and dumb for buying these things, and you're still hungry. Return to page 32.
Fun, right? Seriously, go grocery shopping. NOW. And as always, check out what we've got going on over at Lost July Comics. New panels will be up soon.
As you grow older, simple pleasures get harder and harder to come by; Shopping is one of the greatest pleasures one can have as a grown up. I anxiously await pay day knowing that a magical trip to the Food Library(Or "grocery store", for those of you who are slang-challenged) is rapidly approaching. There are literally over 9,000 food things to buy in these places, and I recommend you try all of them. They're all delicious. Aside from okra, that is, that shit looks like boogers.
With so many items to choose from and millions of combinations to use said items in, you're single-handedly in charge of your diet for the next pay period. Now, this can seem, scary, terrifying even, but it gets easier children. And take my word on this, you'll be terrible at it at first. Fish sticks and buffalo wings are not acceptable things to buy, especially if that's all you're buying. One week will pass with one week remaining till you get paid again, and you'll be out of wings/sticks, out of money, and out of luck. You just committed rookie offense number one: Buying food like a dipshit. Now you're eating Ramen and pissing off all your friends by bumming 99 cent Del Taco burritos off them. Don't be that kid, everyone hates him.
My personal favorite place to buy food at is a magical dreamland called WinCo: It's a culinary Disneyland without some retardedly high entrance fee. Why do I like Winco so much? One word: BULK. Spaghetti in bulk? Why yes, I love noodles. Rice in bulk? I'll take 12 pounds, which, once you steam it, equates out to about 1,000,000 pounds of starchy awesomeness.
Side note: "Awesomeness" didn't get the squiggly "Hey moron, you spelled that word wrong" line that Firefox loves to plaster all over my blog, but "combinations" did. S-T-U-P-I-D.
Back to how awesome WinCo is. Now, I, much like you people that read the drivel I type up for you, don;t have a lot of money to spend on things like food. WinCo is cheap as all hell, and if you can buy it in bulk, holy GOD the savings are amazing. I just got 6.39 lbs of whole wheat flower for $2.88. That's about 40 pizza crusts. PARTY! Hazard a guess as to how much 6.93 lbs of spaghetti set me back.
$5.47
Hell. Yeah.
Now, if you have proper storage for all this shit that you have no chance in hell of using over the course of two weeks, you probably won't have to do serious shopping again the next check. Maybe a few things, more tomato sauce, more black olives, blah blah blah. The point is, go insane. Set yourself a reasonable budget, then go apeshit insane buying things. I never stay within my budget, I usually overshoot it by anywhere from $40 to $60. This is disappointing, but who cares? Food is good for your brain, it's good for your health, and what else are you going to spend your money on. Hookers? Buy a steak instead, it won't give you Chlamydia.
Also, learn to cook. Cooking doesn't take a lot of effort or even any real mastery of the kitchen. Watch The Food Channel from time to time or head to Barnes and Noble and get a cheap, shitty cook book. Not only will your taste buds thank you, but you'll pull in stupid amounts of ass. Chicks dig a guy that can cook; Ask one, they'll tell you. If your cooking-challenged, a Food Library can seem scary or pointless, because you can't see the potential, nay, the magic that awaits you beyond those sliding doors.
Something fun to try: If you like Star Wars, pretend to use Force Open whenever you walk through the automatic doors. You'll feel like a Jedi and you'll get to go grocery shopping. Win win.
I believe this is my longest post yet, which is saying something about grocery shopping day. Aside from snuggling my girlfriend, trips to Stone Brewery to refill my growler for cheap, warming up in sweatpants under a blanket on a rainy winter day while watching Pokemon and eating Ramen, or the first taste of Pho of the year, there are very few simple pleasures left these days. Grow to love grocery day. Don't look at it as "Oh ho hum, I have to go buy food. Dildos." Look at it as you're starting the first chapter of your very own two-week-long Choose Your Own Adventure book.
Do you look in the cabinet(Page 32) or drive to Carl's Jr.(Page 56)?
You open the cabinet and find Spaghetti(Page 2) and Funyuns(Page 241). What do you eat?
You eat Funyuns. You are stupid and dumb for buying these things, and you're still hungry. Return to page 32.
Fun, right? Seriously, go grocery shopping. NOW. And as always, check out what we've got going on over at Lost July Comics. New panels will be up soon.
 |
| Pic related: It's my boredline-OCD-arranged section of the pantry. God I love grocery shopping day. |
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Dear Yahoo Mail,
Your thought-process perplexes me. I don't use email very often, but when I do, I choose you, Yahoochu. So what has me scratching my head is the fact that when I delete something out of my Inbox, it gets deleted without a second thought from you. My spam, however, you place higher importance on, asking me "Are you sure you want to delete these items? This action cannot be undone".
Maybe you're on to something, oh wise one. Maybe I do have a $1,000 Wal-Mart gift card waiting for me somewhere in the deepest depths of the internet. Maybe I do need to increase my penis size to painful lengths. Or maybe, maybe, you need to get your shit straight. I don't want to partake in your Nigerian housing scam, I don't believe that there is a prince somewhere in the world that chose me to inherit his money and I certainly don't believe that there are 60-year-old women in my local area looking to hook up.
But once again, maybe I'm wrong. I doubt it...
Maybe you're on to something, oh wise one. Maybe I do have a $1,000 Wal-Mart gift card waiting for me somewhere in the deepest depths of the internet. Maybe I do need to increase my penis size to painful lengths. Or maybe, maybe, you need to get your shit straight. I don't want to partake in your Nigerian housing scam, I don't believe that there is a prince somewhere in the world that chose me to inherit his money and I certainly don't believe that there are 60-year-old women in my local area looking to hook up.
But once again, maybe I'm wrong. I doubt it...
Monday, November 8, 2010
I guess I don't really like movies after all.
I cam to this realization the other day, and it was a little hard to deal with. I always thought I was a movie buff, and I technically am. I can tell you the plot, major actors, director, year of release, etc of most every major movie on the market without even having seen it. What set me down the path of disbelief, however, was the fact that I don't ever get excited about new movies.
Take Inception, for instance: Everyone said it was amazing, critics raved and a huge fan following was formed. Meanwhile, I didn't give a single fuck about it. Christopher Nolan? Whatever. It was one of the biggest movies of the summer, it was an original idea that was well executed, it had the makings of a movie fan's wet dream. I, however, was unimpressed. Same with Avatar. People went insane over it, it had a re-release for Christ's sake, people got depressed after watching it and wanted to kill themselves because they knew Pandora wasn't real and they wanted to live there forever. Meanwhile, I haven't seen it, I don;t want to see it and I probably never will.
What gives?
I used to pride myself on my DVD collection; I only had great movies. The Exorcist, Clockwork Orange, Trainspotting, all really good, critically-acclaimed classics. Nowadays I have shit in there like Saw II. I've really let myself go.
So what I figured out is that I do love movies, just ones that I know won't suck. It takes me so long to see a movie that I know I'll love, and once I do watch it, it's forever a favorite. Why am I this way? I don't know. All I know is this:
Fuck you James Cameron. You bumped Scott Pilgrim out of theaters for your dickfest re-release of Avatard.
Take Inception, for instance: Everyone said it was amazing, critics raved and a huge fan following was formed. Meanwhile, I didn't give a single fuck about it. Christopher Nolan? Whatever. It was one of the biggest movies of the summer, it was an original idea that was well executed, it had the makings of a movie fan's wet dream. I, however, was unimpressed. Same with Avatar. People went insane over it, it had a re-release for Christ's sake, people got depressed after watching it and wanted to kill themselves because they knew Pandora wasn't real and they wanted to live there forever. Meanwhile, I haven't seen it, I don;t want to see it and I probably never will.
What gives?
I used to pride myself on my DVD collection; I only had great movies. The Exorcist, Clockwork Orange, Trainspotting, all really good, critically-acclaimed classics. Nowadays I have shit in there like Saw II. I've really let myself go.
So what I figured out is that I do love movies, just ones that I know won't suck. It takes me so long to see a movie that I know I'll love, and once I do watch it, it's forever a favorite. Why am I this way? I don't know. All I know is this:
Fuck you James Cameron. You bumped Scott Pilgrim out of theaters for your dickfest re-release of Avatard.
It's late
... And I have work in a little while, but I want to see how this will look with some nonsense words thrown in. Please pardon the complete lack of effort on my part, it won't always be this bad. I promise. It's 12:08 on a Monday morning, but it's really 1:08 according to my body; We rolled the clocks back yesterday and my body still says "no". I have to pee right now, I'm a little sleepy, but I want to do some reading before I knock out. I'm thinking I would also like a snack while I go through my book collection to choose tonight's sleeping aid. I have peanuts downstairs which, don't get me wrong, sound great... But I want sugary. So that means I'd have to put on pants and drive to a gas station, talk to the clerk, and drive all the way back. I might just settle for peanuts. I had the Tropical Skittles earlier today, and they were delightful, but now I want something else, something not as fruity sweet. I'm in a real jam here, goddamnit. And now I have to poop. I guess it's time to go sort this shit out. Goodnight people, sleep hard.
Edit- I just proof-read this thing and I started five different sentences with "So". Not only is that horribly grammatically incorrect, that's just plain lazy. I'll chock that up to a bit of sleepiness, but it's also a bit my fault, lazy little cunt.
Edit- I just proof-read this thing and I started five different sentences with "So". Not only is that horribly grammatically incorrect, that's just plain lazy. I'll chock that up to a bit of sleepiness, but it's also a bit my fault, lazy little cunt.
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