Blog - Page 13 of 13 - petrostudio LLC
So, moron that I am, I didn’t realize that I had “moderate comments” selected in my settings, so I had no idea that people were actually reading AND commenting on this blog. Jeez, I’m dumb. So I just wanted to say to all of you:
I love you. You’re my girlfriend(s).
I was kicking myself for several weeks trying to come up with something new and witty to write here. I honestly want to get this thing to a place where I am updating this almost daily and providing more that just rants and raves. I just can’t seem to figure out that million dollar idea. You know the one, where you suddenly stop mid-walk/dump/sentence and profess, “I’ve got a great idea,” at which time you enumerate the great talking points of your idea to whoever happens to be the unlucky sod(s) that are near you? You know that idea? I wish I had one.
Incidentally, if anyone has a spare, please email it to me.
There is actually quite a lot to write about happening in the world at this time, to be fair. What with the (new) war in the Middle East, to the elections in the US (we should just change the party names, that’ll make it clearer to voters who is actually on their side) to a plethora of poignant and hopefully beautiful films on the horizon (SoaP not being one of them, Marys,) there is no end, seemingly, of important subjects to conquer. And I’m not going to turn this into another rant about the culture of celebrity. If you want to get my opinions on that shit, just read my previous posts. That’s all I have to say about that.
So it seems that I have a veritable boatload (or buttload, your pick) of subjects to chat about. So I’m going to pick one that with really seem like it comes completely out of my ass. I’m talking about a piece of television pseudo-drama called reality TV that I have (I must admit) been drawn to inexplicably. Well, it’s partially explicable, if you will, consider the host is hot. Über hot. So hot, she’s German.
I’m talking Project Runway.
Slap my jaw if this isn’t a great show. I mean, I could cut out the useless reality TV histrionics with the camera moves and the OVER. EMPHASIZED. EXPLANATIONS. I mean, I’ve been watching the show, I get the format. Honestly, you have to be living under a rock to not know the catchphrases for these damn things. We know that one of them will be out, Heidi. Just Auf Wiedersehen their ass and move on. Then come back. Then walk away again. I need Tivo.
There was a TIME article on the subject that really sums it up for me. Aside from the great drama (who doesn’t like to see queens and mother hens screech at each other for minutes at a time?) and the interesting challenges, these people all know how to DO SOMETHING. They are all talented. This isn’t a show about how pretty the contestants are, whether they can jump from one moving steamshovel to another, eat a sheep’s ovary or out-diva the next bitch into TV history. This is about real, talented folks from all walks of life (and all stages of ugly/pretty) that actually know how to do what the point of the show is: make great clothes.
Best of all, those of you that are watching, you know that the guy that is on top right now is the LAST guy you’d expect to be ahead in a women’s fashion design competition. I love it.
So there. I’ve exposed myself (again) to ridicule and scorn. I’m used to it. But I think that more people might actually read this now. Of course, the key is to attract more readers than you piss off, I guess.
Ah, celebrity! Here I come.
(Incidentally, there’s another movie quote (besides the title) in this post. Find it.)
I found this on YouTube and had to include it here. One of my favorite movies from my favorite filmmakers boiled down to its essence.
VIDEO REMOVED! ARGH!
Truly the greatest word of all time, dropped 281 times in the entire movie – though that number is debatable. This seems to rank TBL as number 5 in the top list of movies that drop the f-bomb the most. As a comparison, “Crash” used the f-bomb only 99 times. So that’s why TBL wasn’t nominated for any Oscars! Fuck.
Maybe I should count how many times I drop the f-bomb during an average day. As a matter of fact, maybe we should see which of my blog readers (all none of you) drop it the most. I guarantee I’m tops.
By the way, did anyone NOT know this? Help me out, here.
I complain a lot. I know it. But have you looked around lately? Maybe you’ll start complaining more, too.
Seriously, I’ve learned in recent years and had several epiphanies in recent months that have curbed my complaining a bit. I do throw out the (often) occasional complaint now and then, but I call them “rants” now, (thank you, Rian,) so that makes everyone feel better, right? And yes, I’m talking to specifically to you. No, to you. Not you, silly, the oth… never mind.
Incidentally, I really wish we all would have more Christian feasts celebrating the manifestation of the divine nature of Jesus to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi. They really help with clarification of your life. What’s important. What’s not. What sucks and what is really a blessing in disguise. It would be great if we could just order them, like Chinese food. It would save a lot of time with the whole self-realization, quiet discovery in the bosum of your apartment’s warmth, quietly sobbing in the dark over a $4 bottle of wine.
Oh, wait. That’s a breakdown. The feast comes AFTER that. Duh.
To stave off a breakdown, I’ve been throwing myself into creative work. Well, not throwing, really. More like tossing lightly. Handing. Dropping? Putting down, gently? One of those. So I’ve been continuing to write. I completed two short screenplays and am working with some friends on a third short. It’s kind of nice to be in an “advisory” position re: story, but at the same time frustrating because I’m not doing the actual writing. It’s letting go of control, which is totally cool, but I’m such as “attack this problem now” kind of guy that it pains me to wait. But I have been, and doing other stuff in the meantime.
Makes it hard to re-focus on actual work, rather than chosen, creative work, though. But here I go…
Before I do: feel the power of the BLOG! Anyone want to trade me something for this bottle of rubber cement?
The Man of Steel is back. And he’s 12. No, seriously, Bryan Singer is a genius, and can do no wrong in my book. Taking what is an old and kitchy superhero series and turning it a little on it’s ear, he’s brought some new ideas to the new Superman movie.
I just don’t buy Routh and Bosworth as any older than they really are, 26 and 23. Yeah, no, since the plot states that Stuperman has been away for 5 years, and it takes place AFTER Superman 2.
And it wasn’t like these two kids were just MEANT to play these parts. There’s no Hugh Jackman/Wolverine perfect match. It doesn’t matter. And it really doesn’t, because the story and the visuals really work.
Superman is larger than life, so the over-the-top CGI works in favor of the movie. Sometimes, it just doesn’t make sense – there are plot holes, continent-sized plot holes. But who cares? Especially when the main twist is revealed. Had me laughing so hard, and “bravo-ing” to Singer for changing Superman lore to fit his needs.
But the bigger, better treat for viewers was the Spider-Man 3 trailer. I had seen it before, so I knew what was coming, but it looks great. Sandman, Green Goblin 2 and the Alien Symbiote that merges with Spidey and then Eddie Brock to become Venom, my favorite Spidey villian. Venom’s cool ’cause he’s nuts and has huge teeth. ‘Nuff said. My only fear is that it will fall into the Batman trap from the Schumacher (say it with me, “Batman suit with nipples”) years, where there were too many villians distracting from the main character’s struggles and story.
I wax philosophical about superheroes because, amazingly, their movies often deal with more human-sized drama and strife than a standard kitchen-sink drama. When was the last time you really cared about a human character in a movie? How about every superhero movie in the Singer-era. Nolan’s Batman was phenomenal, as are all of Singer’s X-Men. Ratner can suck an egg.
To be true, there are movies out there with great human drama on a small scale. These movies I love. Sideways. Lonesome Dove. Magnolia. The Breakfast Club. No bigger than life characters. Just normal people with problems. I love that.
Cause we all have ’em.
As previously stated, I’m a video game fan. Want to play a lot more than I get to – need to play a lot less than I do (according to the wife.) It’s a Catch-22.
What a lot of people wonder is how grown men (and women, yes you know who you are) can still play these games, can still spend lots of money on these things, can take precious time away from other important activities like golf and television watching and eating ice cream to work your brain into a frenzy by playing incredibly addictive, pulse-pounding fun! Yeah, makes perfect sense to me, too.
Truth is, playing games as an adult is great. It’s a very social thing at that age. And not social in that teenage-giggling-at-the-man-that-just-fell-down way. I mean social in the fully grown men-giggling-at-the-man-that-just-fell-down way. There’s a difference. Seriously, games are something like a $30B industry. Thousands of grown men and women work at these comapnies creating this entertainment. And, like the movies, 95% of it sucks. And the vast majority of people that participate in that sucky content, like the movies, are morons… err, kids. Same diff.
So I love when an adult calls a kid out on something in a public forum. Take 3DRealms co-founder George Broussard, who recently announced on his company forums that the Xbox360 demo of the game “PREY” would be delayed due to testing at Microsoft. This was met with the usual backlash from the children out there that like to gripe at any adult when they are told that they’ve had enough ice cream for today, and it’s time to go to bed.
So the best part about it is the first reply to this announcement, by a moron… err, kid by the name of ‘FerretWave333.’ He states, and I quote, “I hate Microsoft and their gay testin department.” Not only is this full of wit and rife with… I can’t do it. I need a reload on my sarcasm gun. This kid’s a moron. Testing, Einstein.
Anyone who has even touched a game in the last 5 years, walked by an arcade on the boardwalk or, hell, been to a mall, ever, will understand how misguided, moronic youths (did you just say yout?) like FerretFucker5000 come to be born. You see, a mommy and a daddy who have way too much disposable income and not enough time invested in “parenting” slip and fall during a martini-induced party and accidentally procreate.
Seriously, that’s not really the reason why I started to write this entry. I mean, it seems that every entry I write is just me complaining about someth… wait a sec, it’s me! I forget I’m crotchety, sometimes.
There’s this incredible game about to hit the market called ‘Gears of War.’ I know, catchy Anyway, this is what the thing looks like:
And this is why I dig this stuff. Images like these pumping out of a console on the fly – this is 5% stuff. Top drawer. This is ‘Lord of the Rings’ good. ‘Chinatown’ good. ‘Godfather’ good. This is art. True art, in a different form.
Plus, there’s a chainsaw attached to the bottom of your machinegun! Fuckin’ A!
So I’m sitting here for several hours working on a project I no longer care about for a guy that I don’t really like (don’t think I ever did) and it hits me.
What the FUCK?
So I put myself on autopilot and crank the shit out, hoping to just finish and be done with it. This is not what I want to do with my life. This is not what I plan to do with my life. I’ve got Frou Frou’s “Let Go” on loop. It’s from the movie Garden State. Once again, go buy it right now. It’s brilliant. It’s one of those movies that makes me crazy when I watch it, truly moves me to say:
What the FUCK!
Every once in a while, a general malaise, a soft listlessness falls over me, and I wonder just what the hell I’m doing. I feel stuck, trapped, unable to move past my own accomplishments. Or perhaps unable to move over my failings. Who knows. Point is, it’s sentimental crap and I hate it. But the only way truly to beat it is to work, I’ve found. No pity, no breakdown, just work.
I write. I don’t write nearly enough, but I do write. I’m currently in the middle of two shorts (almost complete, going to shoot them as part of a feature next year) 2 features (I get started and distracted,) 2 more shorts (complete, ready to go,) 3 short stories (almost there,) and a novel. The novel is my favorite thing right now, a very Vonneguttian romp through whatever the fuck comes to my mind at any given time. I love it, and I enjoy writing it. But I don’t write it enough.
Shit gets in the way. I love video games. I love going to the movies (currently not so in love with watching movies at home, though.) I love hanging out with friends (even though most of them suck because they move away.) I love parentheses.
But mostly I have work to do. Like this piece of shit project.
(So make me feel like time marches forward, things change and people truly care. Comment.)
First of all, I need to say this: no designer should ever try to implement an ecommerce shopping cart without first having his head examined for holes. Secondly, there is something seriously wrong with me, aside from the obvious: once I get started on a problem, especially a sticky, troublesome problem, I have to finish it. Hence the end time for today’s work debacle.
Incidentally I’ve noticed that, in actuality, 95% of all people are fucking useless. Only 5% of us are working while the rest of the world plays Tetris and opens “hang in there!” attachments from their mom.
So, I’m offering 7 magic internet beans for the first person to comment the movie that the quote, “Fuck me gently with a chain saw,” comes from. And it’s not “Bambi.”
Speaking of fucking, you can find a pretty good list of definitions for this post’s title at the Urban Dictionary. My favorite is number 1. I didn’t know United was so hip. Way to fly the friendly skies, scrotum-punchers.
So Al Del Bene, one of my partners in crimedy, is in L.A. this week with another ass-muncher that used to be alive. They are hanging out, braiding each other’s hair and having paella. I’m not trying to suggest anything, just that they were holding hands when I called Rian today. I could smell it. It would be great if my posts had absolutely anything to do with anything. Instead they are just complete rambles from the inner workings of my obviously enormous but warped cerebral cortex of shame.
Care for a spin?
So I’m as tech-savvy as the next guy. Actually, the next guy is a complete moron (see previous posts) so I’m more tech-savvy than the next guy. I have both Macs (4) and PCs (2) in my home. Technically, one of those Macs and PCs are the same machine, but never mind about that.
All that to say, tech-savvy blokes like myself love free software. That’s why I’m excited about Windows Vista Public Beta 2. Not that I’m psyched to see all the new features that Microsoft is putting in that all 4 (count ’em) of my Macs already have, but because it’s free. And it’s new. It’s shiny and new. Come aboard. We’re expecting you.
New = good in computer-land.
So I will download it (it’s 3.2GB – crap in my pants) and try it out. You never know, it might be cool. I just hope that it doesn’t fuck up my games.
Finally, I gotta say that, last night (if you can call it ‘night’ since it ended at 1:20 in the AM,) my fellow blokes and I from the Gods of Light participated in the Improdome at the Peoples Improv Theater. We went incognito as the Vicious Spelunkers. We didn’t do half badly .Of course, we picked a night when there were an unprecedented number of teams (14!) and I didn’t return home until quarter of 3. Which, if you know and love me, you know is very late. It’s past my bedtime, is what I have to say.
So. Eat well. Don’t take any wooden nickels. And never fart upwind.
I find myself constantly asking the cosmos to explain things to me. Perhaps I’m too stupid to understand the phenomenon that is celebrity – perhaps it actually exists on a higher plane than I am on, and therefore I can only express my understanding of it with utter and undying contempt. Maybe I’m actually insane, while thousands of sheep scream their heads off on city streets if they happen to catch sight of Britney Spears driving a diamond encrusted Escalade down Broadway, wearing no shoes, Daisy Dukes and no thong, a blue bra (because we can see it, Britney spent all her money on the truck and can’t afford a bigger shirt) while smoking twelve cigarettes, drinking Ketel One from little nip bottles whilst threatening to throw her baby at the paparazzi if they don’t leave her and PapaZao (he so cool I want to take a crap in his mouth and slap his momma) alone, screaming, ” you’re endangering my child!”
But, honestly, I think that it’s the great masses of (dare I call them) human beings that are ca-razy. I’m perfectly sane and screaming to the voices in my head to kill 3 people, just THREE people!
By the way, on any given day, you can go here for proof that there is no God.
I, and many, many folks I know, have way too much already to be angry about on this round dirtball we call home. We honestly don’t need any more help. Thanks, we’re full.
Finally, I just need to say that there is one bit of entertainment that I am DYING to see. It’s a TV series type with infinite possibilities and subjects, and could spawn a whole new genre of entertainment. It would be great to actually have a reality TV show. Because what they call reality now is complete shit. I can’t come up with any flowery, clever language that expresses it better.
Here’s the proof: reality TV doesn’t need commentary, confessionals or reunion shows. And as soon as someone from a show is walking the red carpet, it’s no longer reality TV.
So suck my balls.
I did it. I moved my blog over to Blogger.com. Mostly because nobody was reading it. At least there is a half chance that somebody out there will accidentally click on a link right after I update this and think that there is something worthwhile to see and then tell all their friends and then I’ll be liked.
Of course, I need to figure out just what the hell will be so exciting on this site that people will WANT to read it, and then WANT to return to read more. Of course, that means I also have to update it more than once an epoch.
I’m bringing epoch back. We don’t use that word enough.
So, for those of you that actually read this (all one of you) I have an update to the up the dump post from last week.
So I was reading the book “Overheard in New York” which is a collection of quotes from the website OINY and came across the phrase, that food “made my ass cry brown tears.” I nearly cried some brown tears directly into my pants, at that moment.
Never heard that before. You can truly learn something new every day. I’m gonna go drop a bat now.