Saturday, July 08, 2006

Back With A Vengeance

Well, that was certainly a long break, wasn't it? These last few months have not by any means distilled my piss and vinegar, so be prepared for a rather lengthy entry. I’ve worked up a list of grievances so here we go with a list of a few of them. Stay tuned for more backlogged bitching.

1. What’s the deal with movies like this? This has to take the cake insofar as worst possible concept for a film. Here’s the premise: A man anxious to be a father mistakes an extremely short-statured, baby-faced criminal on the run as his newly adopted son. Sounds absolutely craptacular to me. Have you seen the trailer on this one? A quick unseen (but accurate) movie review on this film: Negative three stars. This one makes Failure To Launch look like The Godfather. Another film that is swimming about in the cesspool, just waiting to spring forth like a giant bowel movement on the screen, is this one. Wow. The trailer for this film "features" what appears to be a flying great white shark. The premise for this one states, in part: "...when he breaks up with his girlfriend, he discovers his ex is actually the reluctant superhero, G-Girl. A scored woman, she unleashes her super powers to humiliate and torment him." Where do I get in line and drop my $9.50 for this gem?

Might I suggest an idea for the next blockbuster film? Cast Verne "Mini Me" Troyer as Faygo, a transvestite hooker who accidentally teleports to another dimension via an unclean toothbrush and has to use all his accumulated knowledge and street smarts to find his way back to his rural home in Mississippi, while, unbeknownst to him, a rival time-traveller named Foogus is tracking his every move and plotting to steal his beloved hamster, Gertie. Foogus would be played by Keanu Reeves, and the film would also feature a cameo appearance by Ben Rothlisberger as "Biker #2."

2. It seems that MinoTV (Music In Name Only Television) is sticking with its recent formula of showing as many rich talentless 20-and-under shits on screen as it can possibly cram into a 24-hour viewing period. It's even spinning off shows now, like The Hills, a spinoff of Laguna Beach. MinoTV's crown jewel is My Sweet 16, a nauseating look at spoiled little bitches who insist that their members-only multithousand dollar parties are capped off with the latest make and model Mercedes. Here's an idea for a new show on MinoTV: how about My Redneck 16, a similar show, but for the trailer park/white trash scene? It could be a smash hit. Daddy starts a huge tire & leaf pit fire in the backyard while birthday girl Becky Sue Hilljack and her cross-eyed cousins dance around to soothing tunes of "Cotton-Eyed Joe" eminating from a sweet circa-1986 jambox. The evening would be capped off by the ultimate gift: a brand-new automobile. Well, not exactly brand new. Perhaps something along the lines of a 1984 Pontiac Fiero or a 1977 AMC Pacer.

3. Ants suck. I should know, as I recently did battle with an invasion of carpenter ants. It began one morning when I trudged to the bathroom, half-asleep, and saw three or four of the little bastards hanging out in my sink. From that day forward, I'd see at least 10-15 a day, primarily in the bathroom. I made it my mission to scour the home three or four times daily and exterminate every last one of them -- one by one, by hand. I actually came to enjoy the satisfying squish that would result from their toilet paper-induced deaths and, oddly enough, soon after the elimination of the colony via professional extermination (more on that soon), I found myself missing my ritual hunting. In the process of attempting to alleviate the investation on my own -- big mistake -- I did a lot of reading and learned way, WAY, too much about carpenter ants in general. For example, instead of saying to my spouse, "Hey, there's an ant here," I would say things such as "Oh look -- I spotted a minor worker foraging inside for food!"

The proverbial shit hit the fan one morning when I was in still in bed and my wife came up to me and said, matter-of-factly, "Hey, there's an ant on your pillow." Well, that was it. I had learned to live with the occasional ant scurrying across the toilet seat, but this was my pillow, my kingly domain of the unconscious. And I'd be damned if I was going to allow the ants access to that. I ended up contacting a small local exterminator after being warned to stay away from "the biggies" like Orkin and Terminix, and after a one-time treatment, the problem was gone. Halle-fucking-lujah.

But ya problems were peanuts compared to those of this unfortunate woman in South Carolina.