Friday, April 29, 2005

Cost-efficient marinades and Barry Levinson misfires!

So I called the student loan police, and once I typed in my SSN was INSTANTLY whisked away to a real life living and breathing customer service rep, rather than being presented with the electronic system as originally promised. My SSN apparently triggered some sort of "holy shit" mechanism in the phone system. The woman was serene enough, although I could tell in her voice that she wasn't reading anything encouraging on her computer screen. All I ended up doing was updating my information (thus ensuring that they start calling me all the time and ruining my seemingly boundless leisure time), and finding out how to allow my mom to access my student loan information. I'm hoping Mom can use her Mom powers to get me some kind of lowered payment deal. I cannot deal with people at all. "May I pay less?" "No." "Great, thanks. In fact, I wanted you to say no. I don't like it when I benefit from situations." Dickering is not a quality I possess even a molecule of. I don't have the patience or skill required for wheeling nor dealing, nor any combination of the two. Well, anyway, I'm sure my mom can figure out my financial problems for me, as I am both disinclined and ill-equipped to do so. I wish it didn't still feel good to hand off a problem to my parents, but somehow it still does. How very, very, very, very sad!

I took care of our garbage and recyclables situation, which was getting really out of hand. We tend to drink a lot of purchased beverages, and when we are done, we tend to take their now-empty containers and stack them on top of our refridgerator until it gets to the point where cans and/or bottles are falling off the fridge every time we shut the fridge door, falling loudly onto the stove and scaring us badly. It felt good to get all that crap out of our house. It's crazy the amount of shit that gets left behind simply from the act of getting through the week alive.

For dinner I made this meal where I marinate steak pieces in Caesar salad dressing and eat them with instant mashed potatoes and corn. It's delicious and it makes me proud that I have mastered a recipe that makes both my girlfriend and I full and content. I can only guess at the irreperable harm this meal has done to our bodies, but it tastes good so who cares if we get fat and everything in the world thinks we're disgusting? Whoopee for eating unhealthy shit!

Barry Levinson is really weird. I really like it when he makes comedies, because quite often these comedies are critical punching bags and box office disasters, and it's always very interesting to me when a movie is really viciously attacked, and becomes the target of endless late night talk show jokes. "Toys", "Jimmy Hollywood", and "Envy", which I just watched today, made hardly any money and were roundly despised by almost every critic there is, but all three are intriguing in their own very singular ways, and not without genuine laughs. There aren't usually any out and out jokes in them (i feel sorry for the poor bum who had to cut enticing trailers for these movies; in fact, that probably has a lot to do with why they do so crappy in the theater)but there are a lot of good little moments, and there's always a feeling that the people involved were really excited to be making this movie, and felt like they were taking part in something worthwhile. I wonder what goes wrong. I don't think it's entirely a case of critics viciously ganging up on a movie, because "Envy", considered from a distance, doesn't hold together as a film. I would have felt pretty nervous about impending test screening, had I directed or written or acted in this film, having viewed it once. There's so many exquisitely unnecessary scenes and impossible-to-deliver-with-any-conviction bits of dialogue. It actually had kind of a "Punch-Drunk Love" feel to it, for me anyway. It's also way too long, and feels like a first draft excitedly typed up by a drunk-though-not-unintelligent wiseass in some efficiency somewhere. I would be pretty hesitant to recommend it, but part of me would like to see it again. It's always interesting when a guy gets ahold of an expensive camera and just starts taping stuff. Make more not-good films, Barry!

I'm always tempted to buy Halloweed-sized bags of candy, but after a couple days you never want to eat that kind of candy again, no matter how much you originally enjoyed it. There is a limit to how much Laffy Taffy I can eat, it turns out. Hey, I found something out: If you are eating a spicy meal, and you accidentally eat a hot pepper and it's burning your throat in a scary and painful fashion, you should grab a whole bunch of Laffy Taffy, should you happen to have some lying around, and just start eating it. It helps a lot.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

VHS stands for "Very Happy Surprise"!

I still have to contact my student loan people. My mom is getting upset. I was supposed to do it a few days ago, but I refused to do it on Monday, because it was my birthday and you shouldn't have to talk to people who want your money on your birthday. They should be giving me money on my birthday, not the other way around. Birthdays are for receiving money, not for giving it to people you don't know who aren't helpful about things like not making me pay back my loan. Tomorrow I have to suck it up and call them. I tried to do it online, but I couldn't figure out the website. It's that kind of incompetence that disables me from getting jobs that provide money for giving away to loan people. I wish I'd gotten the loan for the purpose of buying a hovercraft, or one of those segue scooter things, instead of dumb college. I'd be excited and more than happy to reimburse a loan for a hovercraft. A hovercraft you can use.

I'm 29 now, due to that birthday. It's all right, I guess. Turning 29 is not making me feel old, but rather more pissed that I haven't girded myself for living enough. I cannot do much of anything, other than complaining in a moderately entertaining fashion about being incompetent, and David Sedaris already has a pretty good line on that area, so I can't even really think about getting a job doing THAT. So in a weird, non-interesting twist of events, I found myself wishing I felt older on my 29th birthday. I don't know if that's better or worse. Slightly better, I think, actually.

I sold my first thing on ebay today. A Fight Club DVD. It's a good movie but I haven't watched it once since I purchased it like 4 years ago. I never use anything I buy, but I buy things all the time. I only like the picking-things-out portion of the shopping experience. Later everything I picked out is awful and sucks.

My old friends from the video store I used to work at (Videoport in Portland, ME) sent me four VHS movies for my birthday.

They were the following:

"Soul Vengeance" - Directed by Jamaa Fanaka, the man behind the Penitentiary series (some of the best filmmaking you'll ever experience, the rare series of films that actually improves with each passing sequel) and starring Marlo Monte as "Charlie", a guy who gets revenge on the bigot cops who falsely arrested him by choking them with his giant growing penis. For some reason it wasn't renting anymore so they sent it to me. I'm truly blessed.

"Condorman" - A Disney movie about a guy in a bird suit doing weird stuff. The guy in the bird suit is Michael Crawford, who ended up being the main Phantom of the Opera guy. If you want to see the Phantom of the Opera guy running around in a bird suit, I have a feeling you'll enjoy "Condorman". But you can't watch it, because I now own the only copy remaining on Earth. Suck it hard, America!

"The Sinful Dwarf" - Not that videotapes are worth shit anymore (how long, do you think, before their value goes up? a couple years ago "The Garbage Pail Kids" movie on VHS was going for 30-40 bucks on ebay. now it's lucky if it goes for six, even though it's available in no other format that I know of. or maybe people are finally realizing how HORRIBLE it is, and was completely worth forgetting about. it's so hard when good memories go bad, and movies you grew up with turn into raging shitheaps with the passing of time. happens to songs, too. i'm no longer proud to admit it but there was a time when toad the wet sprocket was something that i enjoyed listening to. now it makes me kinda cringy. not unlike the phrase "kinda cringy" itself), but I bet not too many people own a copy of "The Sinful Dwarf", in any format. I actually don't really want to own "The Sinful Dwarf". I'm kind of sad to own it. I would rather my friends had not given it to me. Now I have to have it in my house all the time. I wonder how long it'll take me to realize that I don't really want it and am not going to miss it or feel guilty at all if I give it to the Salvation Army, along with all the CDs I've bought in the past two months. Anyway, "The Sinful Dwarf" was released in 1972, and it's kind of a porn. The really, really non-titillating kind of a porn. A gross midget lives with his gross mother and together they tie up and strip young women and keep them in their home for funsies. The dwarf is constantly forcing himself on the bound young women, and it's not especially pleasant or even diverting. If you can't make an interesting scene out of a dwarf raping kidnapped co-eds, then you need to put that steadicam down, my friend. You need to put that steadicam DOWN. But, yeah, now I own this. Maybe I'll watch it tonight then put it in my neighbor's recycling. That ought to make someone's day a little more interesting. If you were a garbageman and you saw a copy of "The Sinful Dwarf" in someone's garbage, you'd totally fucking take it, and don't try to tell me any different.

"Fag Hag" - I have never seen the movie "Fag Hag", but it stars Wil Wheaton and mysteriously has a picture of my girlfriend Scotch-taped on the cover. This is the first time I have ever noticed that Wil Wheaton has only one L in his name. That makes him even MORE irritating. Actually, I don't have too much against Wil Wheaton. I read a very favorable review of "RC Pro Am" written by him, which won him some points in my book, as did "Toy Soldiers", even though he sucked in it. The worst performance in the world couldn't hope to sully a movie as solid as "Toy Soldiers". Now I want you to sit there for awhile and think hard about how entertaining the movie "Toy Soldiers" is, and then compare it to anything you've ever created, reflecting on your inferiority. Its director, Daniel Petrie Jr, is Hollywood's greatest living director.

Here is a quiz:

Which of these screenplays was written by Daniel Petrie Jr?

A) Beverly Hills Cop
B) Beverly Hills Cop 2
C) Turner and Hooch

ANSWER: All of them! All that and he directed "Toy Soldiers". Give up if you think you're ever gonna do better than that, cause you're not!

Those are the four movies I got for my birthday from my good friends at Videoport, James and Jackie-O and whoever else helped them pick them out. I'm worried about having to carry "The Sinful Dwarf" around with me on my travails, but the acquistition of "Soul Vengeance" more than makes up for it. Give a little, take a little. That's how we get by in this life.

On another note, for my money, Katie Holmes does not make for a very convincing beard. Even gay dudes want to have sex with Katie Holmes. Not buyin' it, Maverick. Doesn't count.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

I dislike days.

I got up around 11:45 AM. My girlfriend Annie was watching an A&E Biography about the late Phil Hartman. It was mostly footage of people talking about how sad they were that Phil got shot by his evidently cocaine-enjoying wife. Nothing too enlightening but my eyes and brain seemed to want to watch it, so I did. Then my mom called to tell me that she'd called the people behind my not-being-paid-by-me-at-all student loan, and urged me to do the same once they open on Monday, which happens to be my birthday. I don't know if I can bring myself to talk to these people on my birthday. I just don't see how that thing will ever get paid off. I just figured I'd end up in debtor's prison, but it turns out that debtor's prison doesn't even exist. I'd way rather go to jail than get some job I hate. But now there's not even the prison option. I have to figure out a way to pay these stupid things. Then I talked to my dad about the fact that the wreath factory he works at has been sold to some lady. My dad has worked on-and-off with wreaths for the past three years or so. When he comes home, the cats become very interested in his pantlegs, and smell them with vigor. After smelling them, they give the "Flehmen Response", which is the scientific name for that face cats make when they smell something that confuses them. Kind of pissed-off with their mouth slightly open. That's the "Flehmen Response". I guess pine scents blow cats' minds.

The phone call with my parents wore me right out. It made me think about all the money I owed to almost everyone, despite me having nothing and benefitting not at all from any service I have ever received, barring the two free weeks of Netflix I just finished enjoying. I got to watch the entire third season of "The Shield" (I almost wrote "shelf" again! That's too much!), and some other crap. That movie "Closer" was one of things I watched during my free trial. The whole thing is people yelling about how shit sucks. Clive Owen is pretty damn sexy though, walking around calling people cunts and cheating on Julia Roberts, who would be pretty easy to cheat on given that she's less attractive than almost everyone I've ever encountered. It's like someone tried to stretch human skin over a horse's face for some unknown reason, and then cast that horse in "Pretty Woman". I can't imagine any heterosexual male not wanting to penetrate Natalie Portman with something or other, but her more mature roles of late are increasingly less impressive than her work in "The Professional", her only non-annoying performance to date, and if Jude Law were any less interesting, he'd be a CGI effect. Anyway, all the talk of money and how much of it I'd be giving to people I'd never meet was extremely taxing, so I spent a lot of time lying on the floor today, arising to use the toilet and make Bagel Bites, which were slightly burnt. Envelope Man did not show up today, either. What a lying, no-good, worthless pile of disease-riddled shit who I hope dies soon. But not before giving me twenty dollars. I'm running out of Honey Bunches of Oats.

My girlfriend wanted to watch "Pollyanna" together while we lied on the floor, which we have to do since we have no furniture, except for a Canadian rocker lent to us by our awkward landlord, but I couldn't pay attention. I wish I hadn't amassed so much debt before even developing any kind of remote clue as to what I want to do with myself. Now I just sit around worrying about money. I became my dad around the age of 25, and my dad didn't even become my dad until he was well into his thirties. I don't think anybody's reading this thing, but if you are, DON'T MAJOR IN ENGLISH. You won't get a job. Major in computers. That's the only area worth exploring, if you're interested in success or possibly feeding children. Otherwise you're just wasting your time. It's pretty mean that colleges even offer other possible majors, when you think about it. College might as well have been a giant hole in the ground that I threw a bunch of money into, or actually a hole that I threw absolutely nothing into, and then the hole keeps calling me on the phone, asking for money. Luckily the student loan people don't currently know where I'm located, but I have a feeling my mother filled them in.

There's a show on MTV2 you should be watching called "Wonder Showzen". I have to eat two donuts and lie down on the floor again.

Friday, April 22, 2005

A nice day ruined by a mustachioed loser.

The guy who I stuff envelopes for, thus providing my only income, said he was going to show up and give me money this afternoon, and it's now 5:52 PM. No longer afternoon. I don't know why he hasn't shown up yet, but the answer better involve extensive damage to his brain, face, throat, respiratory system, guts, sexual organs, and/or dunghole. Otherwise he's just being a dink, and ruining my sunny afternoon. It's beautiful outside, for some reason.

You know what I do lately while taking a shit, something I have inexplicably done thrice already today? I take a pen and an old issue of Entertainment Weekly, and I look through the articles, and when I see a word or phrase that is also the title of a movie or popular song, I circle it with the pen. Now, for it to count, the word or phrase cannot be a direct mention of the song. Like if the article reads "Hello, I'm character actor David Paymer and I sure like the song 'Hell is for Children' by Pat Benetar", I will not circle it. I just won't. It doesn't count. However, if that same article were to read "Hello, I'm character actor David Paymer and I patrol playground looking for unsupervised kids and upon locating them I proceed to beat them to death with nearby rocks, or, in lieu of rocks, chunks of hardened tar, because, let's face it, hell is for children", then I would circle the words "hell is for children" without thinking twice. Cause that's how you play my game. Thrilling it isn't, but it improves one scanning abilities, and expedites shitting.

It really is very nice outside. It almost makes me wish I like being outside, or that every street in America featured a drive-in sized television screen, and you could sign up to reserve TV time for yourself and your family on this giant screen (or simply enjoy whatever program has been selected by whoever's turn it currently is) and sit outside in lawn chairs and watch your show. Instead, what do we get? Trees and grass. And the stupid road. And dirt. Boy, dirt. Nothin' like dirt to really get you in the mood to be outside. There's also bugs outside, and they really make things hard, don't they? Prior to birth, if I'd been informed that all throughout life I'd be surrounded by airborne microscopic monsters that just want to bite you and suck an essential liquid from your body, I probably would have stopped eating amniotic fluid. But I didn't, I kept eating amniotic fluid. And now I'm stuck with all these bugs.

I hate my envelope provider. He has curly hair, and wears ill-fitting stonewashed jeans. My envelope provider is not a shapely teenage girl circa 1991, and thus should not be wearing these stonewashed jeans. A point in his favor is that his sunglasses appear to be the same ones worn by Bret "The Hitman" Hart, an accessory that I cannot argue with, no matter how late you are in dropping envelopes off at my home. His aforementioned mustache, while somewhat depressing in the way that all mustaches not belonging to Tom Selleck or the late illusionist Doug Hennig are, is relatively inoffensive, but probably only in comparison to his silly hair and outdated dungarees. I generally squint at his ass when he leaves, trying to determine the brand of these pants. I'm convinced they're Jordache.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

What is Butthorn enjoying of late???

I have a hard time enjoying things! For one, things are pretty much crap! For two, I am boring. Seriously, not an exciting man. When I was three my mom asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I replied "the man who punches holes in records". I meant this. At no point in time have I been a provider of compelling events. The third reason that I am not too good at enjoyment stems from the fact that the opinions of others magically seem to take precedence over my own. Like this:

Me: I like tables.
Someone else: I do not like tables.
Me: I do not like tables.

I don't know why I do this. I always feel like it's unkind to disagree with people. Freedom of speech is sort of annoying to me. There are just too many options, as far as opinions and things to say go. Sometimes I'd rather have some powerful jerk tell me what to say and think. Isn't that boring? Those are boring words from a boring-ass man! I have often told others, to their rampant disinterest, that I would like for a Japanese man to invent a machine that, when I step inside, will tell me what my favorite food is, what my favorite TV show is, favorite movie, favorite Rick Astley song, and on down the line. I think I would find it enlightening. It would also give me an opportunity to speak with a Japanese man. Those guys are something else!

All right, I can tell you confidently enough that I like the following:

THE SHIELD - Before correcting it, I accidentally wrote THE SHELF. That would be a fine name for a police show. This is an excellent program. You may watch it on the FX channel if you would like, but since something about changing the channel to FX is laborious and nonsensical, you might be better off to rent the DVDs, and that way you can watch the entire season in a sitting, which is what you are going to want to do. Every gross thing in the world happens in it, and people are degraded beyond what any reasonable human would think possible. Pure stress from beginning to end. Clearly Michael Chiklis is a superior performer. Even if he sucked in this, it would be permissable, because he was The Commish. The word "commish", to me, seems like a good alternate name for boiled dinner. "P.U., something smells like a shit-spattering queef!" "We're having commish for supper." "Ah, makes sense." By the way, that was Ed Begley Jr. and his wife talking in that little scene about commish. I would also like to single out Walton Goggins, not only for having an excellent name but for doing a good job playing Shane, a dick with too many teeth. This show will get you all excited. It may incite you to harm others with sticks. Harm rules! I have more to say about this program. I may in fact write about it every day.

ISAAC MITSHERBERTISHI - This isn't his name but you know who I mean, the gay guy who makes clothes and has a show where he hangs out with people. The show for whatever reason has a blindingly white paint scheme (which makes it hard for me and my trusty but overtaxed RF Modulator, which has a problem with brightness) (don't you just love the RF Modulator? You probably don't have one, since undoubtedly you have a nicer TV than I, but still, it's always nice when a new electronic device with a cool Star Warsy name sneaks onto the scene. RF Modulators just kind of came in out of nowhere. I went to Radio Shack with the complaint that my DVD player wouldn't play through my maybe-not-so-up-to-date Zenith, and the man told me rather unexpectedly that I needed to buy an RF Modulator. "Well, all right then!" I remember saying.) but it's worth watching because the guy is so genuinely nice to everyone, and is impressed and surprised by very insignificant things. Generally not a thing happens. It's a good show to slowly wake up to while squinting and frowning and wishing your apartment was nice.

NICE PENS - Pencils are for shitheads. Buy me a nice pen and maybe I won't kill your family.

I like some other things too but my web browser won't stop pretending to load things so I guess that means I need to do something for it. Computers: They don't help.

Bye blokes!

Monday, April 18, 2005

I have a blog!

Look at my blog, isn't it fancy and fine? I have nothing of interest on any topic to report. It's just that you guys all have blogs, and I've been feeling left out. You bloggin' blokes! You blokes with your bloggin'!

All right, well, let's see. What do I blog about? Let me just think for a minute here. I don't really any have interests that I would want to talk to everyone in the world about. I don't write very intelligently. This is going to be very difficult. I have made a mistake! I am sorry about all of this! Bum de dum de doo. Blog blah-blog. Bloggy Bloggy. Bloop Bloggy Blogg. <--Ha ha ha!

You know what I really like? Soft drinks!
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