How to Be a Legend in Your Own Lunchtime

I just scored a copy of this book, "Dee Snider's Teenage Survival Guide: How to Be a Legend in Your Own Lunchtime." Complete with a library card insert from Carnegie Free Library in Beaver Falls, PA. Take a peek at the introduction, by Twisted Sister.

The Time has come for you to make a stand.
You've got to do things your own way.
Forget about the style, forget the brand.
'Cause every dog has his own day.
It doesn't matter what the others think,
What counts is, do you like you?
You think you're drownin',
But you'll never sink.
Just do what you wanna do.

Believe me, you'll be hearing more about this book.

Comagain?

During a recent attempt at the supreme art of being brain dead, I found myself choosing the most coma-inducing movie on my shelf. Someone Like You starring Ashley Judd, Marisa Tomei, Greg Kinnear and Hugh Jackman is the ultimate fuel for a long night of thoughtlessness. Or is it?

Instead of tuning out a thoughtless jaunt through an otherwise unremarkable tale of unrequited romance, I found myself bizarrely perplexed.

Somehow I missed the fact that Someone Like You is actually a tale of conspiracy involving the heads of underground New York City's television and magazine conglomerates. Apparently it's incredibly easy to pitch ideas while secretly/carelessly posing as a recently deceased local elder.

Touche, brain. Perhaps the same effect will happen the next time I decide to watch A Walk to Remember.

The Creepiest Math Equation Ever

The results are in. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is officially the creepiest movie I've ever seen. But let's not give it the respect that a board of critics probably consider due. Let's instead devise a clever math equation so that we may better understand the physics, metaphors and general creepiness that you should actually walk away with after viewing this film.

A=The Metaphorical Clock

The Clock is introduced early on in the movie to serve as a metaphor for the issue of time in reverse. We'll need a constant reminder that time is in reverse, so why not repeatedly show us a clock that literally ticks backwards? Good.

B=Benjamin + Daisy (90yrs - life's experiences + child - life's experiences + clock in reverse)

A man plays a boy who is actually an old man who is growing in reverse. Juxtapose this with a child his age who is growing forward.

C=Experiences (Lack of life experiences x 3.14 x clock in reverse)

Benjamin (age 16 + clock in reverse = 80 yrs) loses his virginity in a brothel only to discover he's a sexual aficionado. Wherein he meets his biological father who'd given him away who as luck would have it, is also a perv, who then gets him drunk for the first time. Take this logic and apply it to the rest of the film and the experiences that would follow.

D=Old Man/Young Man Sex (90yrs - 40 years = Get It While The Gettin's Good)

Aren't we just waiting until Daisy and Benjamin are both the same age so they can finally do it? Good thing we've waited out this math equation, because good news! They do!


E=The Passing of Time (clock in reverse - time + digital age)

Shouldn't there not only be a metaphorical clock but a physical one to help us keep track? Perhaps in the director's cut, they'll have one at the bottom of the screen. Until then, refer to the math equation we've begun. Oddly enough, as the movie ticks on and Benjamin draws closer and younger to death, the reverse clock finally dies. They replace it...with a digital clock.

(Clock in reverse - logic + technology = inevitable rolling of credits)

If this movie didn't come right out and say it was about the decaying and reversal of time, it would just be two beautiful people plus or minus make up who are constantly remarking on how they look next to each other. Kind of like if Brokeback Mountain weren't about repressed homosexuality, it would be an extremely boring film about how two people just couldn't work it out.

Take away from this math what you will. In the end, the values and lessons we attempt to learn were lost on me. Thus proving yet again, that no matter how many metaphors, make up or explosions take place, it's still a ticking clock until Brad Pitt stops talking and starts removing layers of clothing.

A + B / D + (C x E)D = Nothing Amazing

When in Doubt

While Mad Men may continue to blow my mind and secure its #1 spot in the list of All Time Favorite Katie Shows, Peggy Olsen has jumped considerably to the top of my favorite ladies list.

While I'm waiting on my WWPOD? bracelet to be made, I'm constantly referring to her character's strength on a daily basis. As another female who's hellbent on ensuring her future success in New York City, what better character to look towards?

From her seemingly demure manner, to her steadfast confidence, Peggy Olsen will remain firm on my list of go-to females.

Except for that whole pregnancy thing.

Nobody's Going To Put You In A Corner

When May I Call On You?

With my newly piqued interest in the world of the occult and my desire to prolong my denial that I, in fact, do not secretly wish to be a Vampire, I decided to give True Blood a taste.

First thoughts? I honestly don't know. Once I got past the fact that no one can play Southerners, not even Southerners, it became easier to stomach their botched Louisiana garbled language. Anna Paquin, (whom I have peed next to, I'll have you know) won a Golden Globe for this. My question is this: Really? I mean, she's adorable and all. While I enjoy that she's not playing it too dark and mysterious and in the constant need of saving, she's a bit too bubbly and pony tail flipping for my taste.

Stephen Moyer on the other hand... Holy Hot Tamale. His British tongue has sufficiently licked the underbelly of the swampy Louisiana terrain. With his smoldering undead eyes and his ability to always remain in fantastic lighting, I'm fully on board for what his character has to offer. And no, this is not in the interest of my, "Wouldn't it be cool to be alive forever" thing.

Sookie's best friend Tara enjoys pulling the Julia ala Designing Women card every other act while delivering a not so eloquent, "Go fuck yourself, I'm black!" speech. While I might be able to appreciate more if she wasn't channeling Wanda Sykes, I just can't quite buy certain aspects about her character. And while we're on that subject, what's going on with Sookie's pervy brother? Let's chat. Sookie's grandmother? Is she the beacon of murder updates in the town? She bursts in every other scene after an alarming phone call from a neighbor.

As for the rest of the show, I was honestly hoping for better writing from Alan Ball. I mean, this man did write Six Feet Under and American Beauty. (A quick trip to IMDB also told me that he was the story editor for Grace Under Fire...also a great show.) I enjoy that it's not pretentious in its exposition. They give you the story without sugaring its devices and breaks it out honestly. But still... I mean, come on, it's a little silly. (I did just read all four volumes of Twilight, so perhaps I shouldn't hate so much.)

That being said, I woke up with a strong desire to watch the rest of the season. Perhaps it's my call of the nightlife, perhaps it's my itch for immortality. Count me in, True Blood. Let's see what'cha got.

Now enjoy the opening credits. Some might say, (I might say) it's better than the show.

Turns Out, Guy Fieri Isn't Bobby Flay

Perhaps it's a known fact among my circle of friends that when it comes to the issue of Guy Fieri, that douche bag from Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, that I tend to become a tad irate.

He has tainted the very essence of TGIFriday's with his backwards sunglasses, his SUM 41 hairstyle, and his tendency to exude ridiculous remarks. "That's fierce, brother!" is no way to define the level of heat from a chicken wing. You are not a cook, Guy Fieri, you are a tool bag.

My hatred turned to confusion upon my recent discovery that Guy Fieri is not, in fact, Bobby Flay. I've been assuming this entire time that Bobby Flay was the one giving chicken wings a bad name. If someone were to bring up Bobby Flay in conversation, I would interrupt them with, "Fuck Bobby Flay!" No one seemed to share my level of hatred for Bobby Flay and I couldn't understand it. When pressed, my reasons were seemingly superficial. "Because he's stupid," I'd say. No one seemed to challenge me on this fact and it continued to remain common knowledge that Bobby Flay was a terrible person in my book.

So...Mystery Solved. Guy Fieri is not, in fact, Bobby Flay.

Fuck Bobby Flay!

Un-Cool

It seems to be a growing trend that movies work to uphold the concept that couples who have found love, might not have it for very long. That a decision you thought was right, might reveal itself to be wrong when you least expect it.

Case in point: Serendipity. What a pile of garbage. And you know what's terrible? Every time it comes on TV, I have to watch it. I hate this movie.

It constantly begs its viewer to question everything, to wonder what would be different if you had made a different choice. Films like this serve as a cautionary tale. One mistep and you could end up settling, and who wants to settle?

While I should be enthralled over the fact that John Cusack is starring in yet another movie of opportune moments involving inclimate weather, it's difficult to accept its message. Not to mention that two engagements were called off over a feeling. One of them, including the actress Bridget Moynahan who's been broken hearted in Sex and the City, that awful show Six Degrees, Serendipity and from what I've come to understand, also in real life. While I believe in destiny and the magic that can exist between two people, I'm troubled by the fact that we're told to question our judgement.

On another note, high five to John Corbett for delivering one of my Top 5 lines in a romantic comedy. "You can't fend off an army of bloodthirsty Vikings with a Shenai. It's illogical."

I Was Just In The Neighborhood

As an avid Television viewer, I'd like to pull the plug on an issue that's been plaguing me. We're all aware of the phrase, "I was just in the neighborhood." Friends seem to say it all the time when popping in. Men say it to women who stand at the door in their bathrobes as they conveniently show up for bed time. Mother-in-laws say this when they stop by with freshly-made cakes.

Now, I'm not doubting that people unexpectedly stop by to say hello. I guess what I'm saying is, no one in New York stops by to say hello.

The characters of Seinfeld seem to do this with great ease. They flock to Jerry's apartment from all over Manhattan. They come bearing clever anecdotes and shocking replies received from snarky Deli owners. They burst in without removing their coats, deliver their latest news and are out the door in less than five minutes.

I have friends in Manhattan that I enjoy seeing. You know what I do when I get there? I ask if I can stay over. It's quite a haul to get places in the city. You're battling sometimes-working trains, overcrowded buses, expensive cab rides and let's not get into the weather. Once I get there, I'm ready to settle in with a drink, maybe some dinner... Any good movies on?

Perhaps this is combined with the fact that I live in Brooklyn and certain luxuries like 24 hour drug stores are only found in Manhattan. Some weekends I question if I can do without soap until Monday. More often than not, I do. If people like Elaine and George can travel great distances just to deliver a message, then I'm clearly out of my league here.

If you get a text that says, "I was just in the neighborhood and decided not to stop" then you know why.

Long Lost Uncle

In another life, Tom Waits was a drunken uncle of mine who showed up to Thanksgiving, arguing politics.

I'm Sorry, What?

My short review: Witchcraft. Kung-Fu. Jet Packs. Midgets.

Do what?

Technology vs. Horse

"I'm putting in a chase sequence. So the killer flees on horseback with the girl, the cop's after them on a motorcycle and it's like a battle between motors and horses, like technology.... vs. horse."

I want to write something this brilliant one day.

Let's Get Together

Watching Parent Trap last night reminded me of what it was like watching this as a little girl. That powerful moment when you realize that there's only one Halley Mills. Movie magic had me believe that she had a twin. She does not!

Even as a little girl, I felt a certain twang of sadness upon realizing this fact. They looked like they had so much fun together! I remember my dad explaining the use of trick photography to me. Much to my protesting, I wasn't able to reason out why Hollywood could do such a thing.

Even though I would go on to watch Parent Trap over and over, I somehow couldn't quite jump that hurdle of acceptance. Wasn't Halley Mills totally depressed at the end of this film realizing she didn't have a twin who was also her best friend? I would've been.

Thanks, Hollywood. I'm going to go talk to myself in the mirror now. Try that duet on for size.

What's the Deal, Ramis?

It's been a long time since I made it a point of seeing a movie on opening night. The vain promise of the next buddy-film Superbad had me chomping at the bit for another harmless hands free comedy. Year One, however, left something to be desired. Strike that, I'll just say it. It was awful.

We follow Zed (Jack Black) and Oh (Michael Cera) on their even-absurd-for-fiction journey through the ancient biblical fables of the desert. One bad hunter and one bad gatherer do not equal comedy gold, unfortunately. To challenge the notion of their useless villager facades, Zed and Oh attempt to rescue their love interests from the clutches of slavery.

The cameos you hoped would float the plot only work against itself. Zed and Oh soon stumble upon Cain and Able. Able (Paul Rudd) is killed off in less than five minutes while Cain (David Cross) is somehow found at every stop along the way providing useless commentary and continually making reference to a joke that died well into the second act.

And yup, you guessed it, that dorky McLovin' appears as a biblical version of that dorky McLovin'. It was, I believe, at this point I began to accept that the movie just wasn't going to get any better. Abraham (Hank Azaria) managed to provide fuel for the only laugh the movie got out of me with a snarky remark regarding circumcision.

One stop at Sodom and Gomorrah later, we've reached the climax of the film. Add a dash of a creepy High Priest, a touch of a hot princess waiting to rule, and the threat of Oh's love interest burning as a virginal sacrafice and you've got a biblical mutiny on your hands.

I won't spoil the ending, but come on...they win.

Perhaps it's unfair to judge the plot of any buddy-comedy. It seems they all tend to work off the same blue prints... Guy loses girl, guy works to get girl back, guy makes hilarious observations along the way while meeting other hilarious acquaintances, guy gets girl. I'm fully satisfied with the way these comedies tend their course. What I'm not satisfied with, is the laziness on the writers behalf.

It begs the question: What's the deal, Ramis? I've waited for your comeback. You gave us Ghostbusters, you gave us Groundhog Day. All this time I've been expecting you to be cooking up the next big comedy. I know Michael Cera and Jack Black are the newest go-to in comedy gems, but you could've stretched your horizons a tad more.

I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, Harold. But next time I want to see less talk more rock.

Rain, Rain, Shoot Me in the Face.

It's been two weeks and this rain hasn't stopped falling. Either the earth really needs this moisture or nature is just out to coax me into a submissive and dismal ball of misery.