Funniest Shit Ever

I cannot stop watching this.



Cracks me up EVERY TIME. And I'm loving how it matches the blog too.

Holy Waste of Freaking Time

My Blueberry Nights. Just don't.

Magic Double Feature

So tonight I was supposed to actually go somewhere with friends, but as I'm the only one who ever gets anywhere on time, no one was there when I arrived; long story short: It was a magic double feature at home tonight.

One of the movies last night (Spanglish?) had a preview for The Prestige, and I thought it looked good even though I've been making big fun of it for more than a year. I also got The Illusionist since I was pretty sure they were the same movie. Came out at the same time, same time period, two guys and a girl, etc. Anyway, I need to go with my first instinct: The Prestige was a little sucky. 

Both Christian Bale and Edward Norton can Machiavelli it up with the best of them, but Christian Bale was a little more like The Colonel (why on earth doesn't Colonel have an R?) than the devil. The acting was better in The Illusionist, but you can't draw out the name and say it all dramatic like The Prestige (or, like The Libertine, a piece of crap (I'm assuming) from a couple of years earlier).

Accents are a funny thing too. Christian Bale's English accent sounded fake, which is weird because he's English, and Hugh Jackman was American, and Michael Caine was Alfred, which reminds me a little of Dick Van Dyke (remember growing up thinking that's what English people sounded like?). And then in The Illusionist everyone had a vaguely German accent, which, when you think about it, is kind of dumb. I mean, they wouldn't be speaking accented English, right? They'd be speaking German, so who cares if the English is accented? But then again, I remember seeing The Man in the Iron Mask and being annoyed by Gerard Depardieu's accent, and then realizing they are, in fact, in France. I think Americans identify British English as Europe. We can understand, yet it's still foreign!

So, to sum up, Illusionist better because Christian Bale has a weird mouth, I just don't get Scarlett Johansson and the name is really dumb. I don't care if that really is what it's called. It did remind me I've looked up Tesla before though (but usually get stuck on the car of the same name. Gorgeous to be sure, but I can't get over a gorgeous car that doesn't make any noise. It's the sound that does if for me), and he was pretty amazing. Though probably nothing like David Bowie. But then, David Bowie seems weirdly ahead of his time too.

And The Illusionist isn't that great, especially the locket-in-the-haystack, way over-tell ending. I almost expected the hills to be alive with the sound of music. But Jessica Biel's butt in those riding pants made all the flaws seem pretty minor. 

Giant Friday night

I just watched The Night Listener, and have one question: I don't really care if the kid ever existed, but is Bobby Cannavale really gay? After Third Watch, I've only ever seen him play gay guys in movies. I wonder if he's really gay or if he got typecast after The Guru. I didn't really realize, since I finally watched August Rush last night, it would be an all Robin Williams weekend. He has the weirdest body since Mike Meyers, and did a lot of running in this one, which even Mel Gibson looks stupid doing. I knew this movie was based on a true story because Dick Wolf also ripped it from the headlines. 

Speaking of funny guys acting woefully serious, I also watched Spanglish (hey, it's Friday night, and I roll right up to the roof, my friends). I really love Adam Sandler even though I feel like I shouldn't sometimes (I never saw Little Nicky, but that doesn't save me from the nightmares). He's just so very great in Punch Druck Love. And he was great in this one too. It's a little sad the lengths they went to to make you hate Tea Leoni (and ironic since her husband was probably stepping out while she was filming. Oy. That whole Red Shoe Diaries thing? One mystery solved). 

The thing I don't get about Spanglish is why the car-ride scenes looked so fake. I mean, James L. Brooks, Adam Sandler, Tea Leoni -- hell, even Cloris Leachman (who is awesome, btw) should rate better green screen. And it's not like they are only in the car once. Yikes.

I know you're waiting to hear whether I managed to get Bones on Tuesday. That's a negative. Apparently if you have all the discs in a season in your Netflix queue, in order, and the first disc isn't available, it skips them all. So Wednesday I had a nice season one ender of Magnum. I yi yi. Thank goodness I thought to pick up a little Red Green at the library. 

Oh, and I saw Quantum of Solace

Or, Those Bolivians Sure Wear the Hell Out of a Hat.

Psych

I got the first season of Psych this weekend and have been pretty much holed up. It's very much like a conversation with E -- all Jan Michael Vincent references and and frustrating the straight man and parade of TV dads. It's too bad the lead is Ben Stiller's twin.

I feel a little weird that I'm number 10 on the wait list for season two, but at least the last season of Bones comes out on Tuesday to hold me. Is it sad that I'm timing my Netflix? I haven't watched any and I have to send them all back on Monday. Otherwise I'll have the dreaded Very Long Wait. It's like waiting for the last 10 seasons of Criminal Intent. 

Thank god he's back

Just saw Rocknrolla, and am so glad Guy Ritchie rebounded from Madonna curse faster than one of our finest actors. I love the old MG, but she must be some sort of talent succubus. 

Now I'm reliving a truly awful bit of the 80s: The Equalizer. Even my mad crush on William Zabka doesn't make up for watching this awful, awful show. I get the feeling Edward Woodward is supposed to be sexy, but he makes McCain look loose. And young. Plus, the music is the absolute worst kind of 80s electronica. David Allen Grier is a cop every once in awhile though.

I mean, right now, they are doing some sort of reverse calling on a pay phone (remember pay phones?) with a desktop computer OUT ON THE SIDEWALK. WTF? He's a spy like James Bond. Everyone knows my name, which drink is mine and what table I'm playing at. 

Pay phone

One of the best things about watching old TV shows (and I mean Magnum old, not Green Acres old) is watching them fumble around for a pay phone. Oh dear god! How will I reach you if something happens? But I think I can count on one hand how many times I actually used a pay phone. And answering machines. They used the hell out of answering machines. The big Rockford two tapers.

House of Jennifer Connelly's Legs

So I'm watching House of Sand and Fog, and I feel like I'm having sex with Jennifer Connelly. And since I wasn't expecting it and I know she doesn't know, I'm feeling really weird. And used. It's like watching someone through a window. I wonder if she was weirded out when she watched in and saw the angles they shot of her. And since I'm only watching because of her, the movie is all kinds of boring, I have some thinking to do on what kind of person I am.

Oddly, I don't feel like I had sex with Ben Kingsley.

Another year older

So my birthday's this weekend. Entering the Jesus year, and I feel like I should be somewhere else in my life. Last year this time, my mom came down to watch The Boy so E and I could take a trip. A couple of my friends who also have birthdays this weekend are going to try and get me to go out tonight, and there will be boys I'll have to talk to. God, what a horrible prospect.

But then Dwight Yoakam comes on the iPod, and the rain starts to fall harder, and somehow I feel better. I might have to just turn off the phone and spend the weekend on the couch in a Kurosawa marathon. Or, you know, CI. 

The Great Brain

The ways my brain can distract me never cease to amaze. Tonight, it was noticing how many movie covers/posters feature a person and a rearview mirror (Silkwood, Driving Miss Daisy, etc.), went through the best movie moments (this summer Heath Ledger bumped Superman out of the top five: Jason Lee figuring out he's in a lesbian bar in Chasing Amy, Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis dancing in the barn in Witness, Giovanni Ribisi daring Keanu Reeves to shoot him in The Gift, Chazz Palminteri (two Zs, whatever dude) dropping his coffee cup in The Usual Suspects, and The Joker in the cop car), and, because I don't think these are the best movies, just the best movie moments, on to my favorite bad movies, most of which are Roman Polanski joints. It's funny how almost all of his movies can be boiled down to "Wait... did I just sleep with the devil?"

E has a little obsession with Polanski, I think because the man just cannot fail. He could be standing in a pile of shit and the stink just wouldn't stick. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he was the devil. But the devil has to be taller.

Not Again

So I'm at the end of a four-year relationship, and though I'm wondering what happened and feeling like shit, I'm also wondering what to do with all the random, stupid thoughts and ideas I used to shovel off on my significant other because I knew they'd make him laugh. I'm in the "everything reminds me of him, and I have to remember not to call/text/etc" phase. It sucks.

So I'm doing what everyone does now: Instead of keeping my remarks to myself and getting on being depressed and eating a whole gallon of ice cream, I'm torturing complete strangers with them. Hey, I just finally lost 10 pounds and can't afford to get depressed. Loss of back pain and fitting into all my clothes is about all I have going for me.

So instead of sleeping (because if I have one more dream about him, I'm going to actually wake up crying), I'm watching Grand Prix and wondering if the director had a stroke when he saw this incredibly serious and artistic movie with the madcap, Cannonball Run cover art it sported when I rented it. Of course, it's not artistic in a completely good way: Split screen! Three! Six! Nine! Too small to see! Sex in a brandy glass! A minute ago I thought it was finally over when the screen went dark. Intermission? Holy crap.

If E were watching with me, he'd have some good story about why James Garner is starring instead of Paul Newman or Steve McQueen, both, coincidentally, in the other long-ass movie I rented, The Towering Inferno, and co-starring everyone from O.J. Simpson to Fred Astaire (and that does include everyone. Seriously, I think I'M in this movie). I don't think it's taken a whole country this long to burn down. It's much like another long-ass movie E made me watch about the exact same thing happening on a cruise ship. Towering Inferno at Sea, I believe it was called.

I could be watching my favorite detectives battling murders, but that's ruined since it just reminds me of E passed out in a beautiful Dallas hotel room while I rang in the new year in the bathtub watching a CI marathon.