Tuesday Movie Review: Super 8

I know I usually do movie reviews on Mondays but I was busy yesterday, so shut up. I went to the the-ah-tarr with a buddy of mine to go see Super 8. We're big, big, big fans of Lost so of course we got excited that there was a promising monster movie written by one of the most original thinkers, J.J. Abrams, in Hollywood. NOPE. This movie kind of sucked and felt repetitive, almost like a children's prequel version to Cloverfield.

The movie stars four boys and a girl, all as awkward as the last but still kind of lazy child actors that may have been plucked off the deserted sets of Disney Channel's backlot studios. Anyway, the movie starts off with the four boys all making a monster movie and then they invite a girl to film with them (OMG SHE SAID YES) and they all gather at night in her Dad's stolen car to film by train tracks.

There's a fat kid... on the left.
And a skinny guy... on the right. THEY'RE BFFs.

Also they are very entertaining movie makers. I wanted so badly for an old 1920s, slick back Old Hollywood Producer to come up to the six of them acting like idiots and just take a puff of his cigar and say 'ya got talent kid'. Then proceed to just walk away with his hands rattling change in his pocket. Oh, and with a Jazz solo playing modestly in the background.

Back on topic, the kids make a movie and OMG a train crashes.

The movie then takes kind of a strange turn where the monster apparently fucking hates dogs? Dogs really hate this thing because when it step foot the dogs were like NOPE. They weren't having it, no sir they were not having it at all.

Then the monster starts to terrorize the town(cool jones over here) and he's just being a really big dick. Then it gets into a generic storyline where the guy who drove into the train was trying to FREE THE ALIEN SO HE CAN PHONE HOME.

So yeah, the monster beats up a bus and eats some army guys, then for some reason he falls in love with a water tower. Seriously, when he saw the water tower I think I heard some Barry Manilow playing. The monster has sex with the water tower pretty much and makes a nest beneath it but OOFAH, he's making a space ship because he's an alien!

The kids go in the water tower to save the dumb blonde girl that got kidnapped and the monster is about to chomp her head off then the little boy befriends him somehow? Where the hell did this alien get a heart of gold from? Why was he being such a dick earlier and now he's all puppy dog eyes. HAhaha, I really wish I could find a picture of the sad alien, it was kind of ridiculous.

So yeah alien flies away (haha what?) and he goes home I guess. The end.



Hahaha, it pretty much is Cloverfield, but with smaller people that run around and never get hurt and never cuss but the movie honestly wasn't that awful. It definitely kept me intrigued all the way through but it was just so silly. And fuck the theater for making me pay 12 dollars for LEATHER SEATS. They suck and made my ass sweat.

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Kittens Kind of Changed My Life

Sometimes things happen in life for no particular reason and sometimes it just sucks. One of the inexplicably terrible aspects of being human and having our own ideas and thoughts is the idea of death itself. It's a scary thought isn't it? To simply cease to exist, and not only cease to exist, but to know that the world will continue to move about as you exit.

Many people become so accustomed to living their own life through their own eyes, they forget that others are living a life as well. Everyone is the star of their own movie, living every scene only as they would, thinking the importance of it is above all other importances. Above politics, economics, socialization and even family.

But, what I learned this past week was such a plotted out, detailed, gut-wrenching event, that all I could do is look away and accept it. Accept it as a part of life that will always happen. The shitty side.

I was at my grandma's house, which is down the street from my house, feeding a pack of kittens. One was black, one was grey and one was stunning, shining with a golden and orange-hued coat. They were all weary of strangers, hiding beneath the house like a pack of orphans who couldn't trust a soul.

Slowly, as the days dragged on, I gained their respect. I left out treats for the first couple of days and waited for them to come out, then slowly they eased into my presence. On the fourth day, they finally approached me willingly and one of them even ate out of my hand. I could feel the slight, wet flurry of tongues making my palm moist and clean of the snacks I had previously held. On the sixth day, they even followed me home and slept beneath my porch.

Then, one day the kittens stopped coming to my house and I stopped seeing them around the neighborhood, walking on the sidewalk with the playful exhuberance only a kitten could have. I didn't shed a tear, sully my face or fall into any kind of depression, really. The only feeling I had was one of slight worry. The worry was in the back of my head and didn't effect my tasks throughout the day. Work was fine, school was fine, social life was fine. But the absense of the kittens was inexplicatorily feeble. A weak memory that only processed mild concern.

Then, one day I was driving home from work and there on the road was the orange hued kitten, squashed on the street like a pancake. The brutal reality of life was there in front of me. Things can be cute and cuddly and warm, but when something falls into the naiivity of joy, they lose the reality of life.

I let out a slight gasp and remembered what Kurt Vonnegut said about death. So it goes.

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Respecting Elders

I know they're old. I know they've lived three times longer than I have. I know they have lived through some of the world's most momentous occurrences, tragedies and miracles like the falling of The Berlin Wall, the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the death of Anna Nicole Smith (yes, that is a momentous occasion to me). But seriously guys, why do we have to respect them? Elders, I speak of.

I don't want anyone getting the impression, however, that I disrespect my own grandparents. Of course not! Ludicrous! Absolutely ludicrous, simply because I respect them for a different reason. I don't respect them because they're old, but because they are family. If it wasn't for the combined sperm of my two grandfathers back in the sixties, then I wouldn't exist! I respect those balls! Those balls are the reason I exist!

But, I'm talking about OLD PEOPLE. I don't think that we should respect someone that poops their pants on a daily basis. Nor do I believe I should "pay my dues" to someone who finds it necessary to look for exact change as I stand behind them, waiting patiently for the check-out cashier to bag their five gallons of prune juice. I'm not saying all old people are bad, just the ones that aren't all there in the head.

If there is an old person who is clearly mentally gone and is clearly supposed to die because they are living off of pills and machines, then no, I don't think they deserve my respect. Why should I respect someone who is trying to cling onto a world where no one cares whether they die? Or someone eating away at the nation's social security, endlessly mooching off of our tax dollars.

Okay, I'm getting off topic but basically, all I'm saying is we should really just treat old people normal. If they act like assholes, don't bite your tongue and let it slide... Do what you would do to anyone else. Tell them to fuck off and make an old joke about saggy tits/balls. Choose which one works best.

That is all

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Marijuana Awareness Class: An Open Letter to Courtney Love

About a year ago, I got arrested because I fell asleep in car completely stoned and wasted, and of course a cop pulled up behind us and we alll got sent to the slammer! LOCK EM UP BOYS, THEY'RE A MENACE TO SOCIETY. Anyway, I got me a fancy-schmancy lawyer and he got me out of hot water, but at the expense of taking a marijuana awareness class.

First off, I guess i should say how absolutely grim and disappointingly boring the room we were in was. It was a "conference" room at a La Quinta Inn and it was merely an empty room with six flourescent light bulbs, beaming down on a few over-crowded tables of juvenile delinquents. It was an absolute embarrassment to be seen here so luckily no one I knew was there. That is, until someone from the back of the room yelled, "Leo! Hey Leo!".

I shuddered in embarrassment and saw the bulky, muscle-swollen kid from my English class that made consistent jokes about farts and references to UFC or whatever else douche bags thrive on. I kind of smiled at him and sat at another table of misfits.

Beside me was a kid with purple highlights which was, in itself, a hilarious characteristic trait. Beside him was a Courtney Love stunt double that made constant outbursts and references to killing her husband. Hahahaha, I swear every sentence the "teacher" said about marijuana, she would follow with a statement about how she would love to kill her good-for-nothing husband. I love it when people drag their own shit in public.

Then beside her was a 16 - 25 year old black guy with a massive afro and a pair of jorts with a massive graphic of Bob Marley on them. He was pretty much the epitome of "Hey, pull that guy over. He looks suspicious." And BAM! Those cops were right, haha.

The class was pretty much a seven hour drone fest with nothing but stoned, drunk and pilled-out excuses for humans. The Courtney Love stunt double was by far the most entertaining aspect of the entire class. She unfortunately got moved to another table because she was making me laugh so hard and the teacher found it disruptive for two people at marijuana class to get along so well.

There was a point in the class where our teacher had brought up mixing alcohol with marijuana and the possible 'fatal' effects and she simply bursted out, pulling her hair and yelled "MAN, THIS ONE TIME I TOOK FIFTY SOMAS (pain killers) AND DOWNED A BOTTLE OF WILD TURKEY (cheap, cheap african-american malt liquor) AND I WAS COMPLETELY FINE." I'll remind you all, that she said this with smeared lipstick, haha.

Stunt-double Courtney Love, if you're out there... I miss your antics!

That is all...

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Hotel Maids: Assholes in Aprons

No, this isn't a story about Arnold Schwarzenegger or that French dude who mouth raped a maid...

This past weekend, my brother and I took a little trip to San Antonio, Texas for a concert and through some divine intervention, he was able to find a room at a 5-star hotel for a dirt cheap price.

So, of course we pounced at the chance and booked it immediately. The night we came back from the concert the two of us were ridiculously drunk and both passed out on each of our beds and awoke the next morning to knocking on the door.

"House keeping!" yelled the hotel maid from behind the door. English was clearly her second language.

I ripped the sheets off my head and looked at my brother who woke up at the same time as me. Both of us were whispering angrily at each other to tell the maid to leave.

"You tell her!"

"You tell her!"

It went on for about thirty seconds until we heard the door open. Then the two of us hopped back into our sheets and began to laugh hysterically. Here's the thing... My brother is a pretty big dude. And when big dudes laugh, they shake pretty violently. So the maid walks into the bedroom section of the hotel (yeah it was that nice) and saw my brother shaking like a meth tweaker and we literally heard her gasp.

"OK, I come back," she said as we heard her footsteps walk away and a door close. The maid was gone and all that was left were the two of us thrusting in our beds.

My brother and I then ripped the sheets back off our heads and filled the room with ridiculously loud laughter.

Then out of fucking nowhere, we heard the maid say from the bathroom "What's so funny?"

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