JusWondering… What Superpower Would You Like To Have?

From time to time, I like playing “What Superpower Would You Like to Have?” with my friends.  It’s usually the guys who participate, but the ladies have as well.  To play, you usually have to rule out the standards of the comics industry, like your Superman’s, your Spider-Man’s, and any of the X-Men.  Only straight-up special abilities are allowed.  For instance, last night’s trio of options:

  1. Indestructibility
  2. Invisibility
  3. Flight

Indestructibility was chosen by most (myself included, at first… I’m so wishy-washy).  It was decided that this allowed you an extent of fearlessness that would bolster you upon whatever life path you wanted.  Whether it be in business, in sports, or on the battlefield, you could be all you could be.

Invisibility was looked at as a shady route, which it most likely would be.  You’re given the ability to be sneaky and spy, to be a pervert, or to be a master thief.  No one selected this option… out loud.

Flight was a moot point, until my friend Devin interjected that it would be the most freeing.  He suggested that life would be a little less stressful if you could get up and go when the world was getting you down.  This got me thinking that I wanted Flight powers as well, because it too would provide you with an extra boost of confidence to accomplish more in this world.

Plus, how cool would it be to show up at the Red Carpet of the Academy Awards show, flying around, screaming, “Look at me!  Look at me!”  You’d take all the attention away from the glory hounds of Hollywood (but you’d probably also get shot down to be taken and examined, so… maybe not).

Here I come!

Here I come!

Devin also wondered if Indestructibility also provided some level of Immortality, because as he saw it, if the world blew up, you’d be stuck floating in space for forever.  I responded by stating you probably wouldn’t be the only one in the entire planet that had this ability, which then brought the whole discussion crashing down.  I guess the game of “What Superpower Would You Like to Have?” isn’t as Indestructible as I thought.

Happy Find… F— Yeah! Ryan Gosling & Anne Hathaway!

Duh-duh-DUHDUH!  Introducing a pair of lovely sites, Fuck Yeah! Ryan Gosling! and Fuck Yeah! Anne Hathaway!

Gosling’s is a bit Fuck Yeah!-ing-ier than Hathaway’s, but you may think differently.  The basic premise is this – take LOLcats, get rid of the cats, add the respective “Hey girl/dude” tagline followed by normal English, and eliminate the stupid LOLspeak.  Voila!  Some samples:

gosling

hathaway

I feel the creators of these sites are missing out on some other celebrities (although I do love Orson Welles’ quotes on each home page).  For example, what about a Fuck Yeah! William Shatner!

william-shatner2_edit

…or even a Fuck Yeah! George Clooney!

george_clooney_edit

…or especially a  Fuck Yeah! Julie Bowen!

julie_bowen-edit

And then there’s always this guy:

george_foreman_edit1

 

(via Filmdrunk)

Furious Case of Benjamin Bashin’

Okay, I know I’ve already hinted at my growing disdain toward The Curious Case of Benjamin Button in this post, but in this entry, I’m going to dig a little deeper.

Let me preface this rant by stating in no way or form am I holding this increasingly steaming pile of doo against David Fincher, Brad Pitt, or Cate Blanchett.  I hold no ill will toward any of the supporting players, the producers, or the studios.  This one is 100% against Eric Roth – the writer – and the scam he perpetuated on this production.

To begin – I liked Forrest Gump.  A lot.  I saw it in an advance screening way before all the hype, and it surprised and moved me.  My sister, Becky, makes this silent crying face that’s reminiscent of the Predator when she watches emotional films (like Steel Magnolias, ‘natch ), and I’ll never forget the middle-aged man sitting next to me making love to his tonic and gin who was sobbing uncontrollably by the film’s end and making the same face.

Stop crying, Becky... it's not that sad.

Stop crying, Becky... it's not that sad.

And I’ll even go as far to say that Roth deserved the Oscar for that adaptation (I’ll add that his Munich script was really intense).  I read the original novel by Winston Groom, and the streamlining of themes and the adventures through modern history and pop culture were welcome additions/changes.

But then we come to Button.  WTF.  When I first watched the film, I kept thinking that it reminded me of Gump, but at the time, I didn’t know it was the same screenwriter.  Besides noticing that, the modern day intercutting distracted from the flow of Button’s tale, and brought little more to the story than what could have been accomplished in three scenes:

  • “I didn’t know he said that.”
  • “I didn’t know he thought that.”
  • “Oh yeah – he’s your daddy.”

I also kept wondering if Pitt felt bad for Julia Ormond, the Once-Upon-A-Time-It-Girl who costarred with him in Legends of the Fall, so he had her scenes expanded to the point of pointlessness, but that’s besides the, um, point.

The greatest issue I have with Button is that the script borrows so liberally from Gump’s tropes.  (Check out the video in this post for further illustration.)  And whereas the Gump script was at least based on the novel, the Button script is based on the Gump script.  Just replace simple with backwards aging.

My other issues:

  • The original short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald does not take place in New Orleans, but in Baltimore.  Was this a Roth call, or Pitt call (since he’s done so much charity work after Hurricane Katrina)?  Who knows…
  • In the original, Benjamin is born a full-grown, shrivelled-up old man who can speak and walk (the logistics of his birth are never brought up).  His father does not abandon him;  in fact, he works rather diligently at treating him like he is a baby, buying him toys, feeding him only milk.  Benjamin instead takes up smoking Havana cigars and reading encyclopedias.  An excerpt:

The cool perspiration redoubled on Mr. Button’s forehead. He closed his eyes, and then, opening them, looked again. There was no mistake–he was gazing at a man of threescore and ten–a baby of threescore and ten, a baby whose feet hung over the sides of the crib in which it was reposing.

The old man looked placidly from one to the other for a moment, and then suddenly spoke in a cracked and ancient voice. “Are you my father?” he demanded.

  • As Benjamin goes through his life in the story, he regresses and shrinks in size.  This is okay because he starts out large.  In the film, he’s an elderly baby that grows.  Shouldn’t he die a large size baby?  (Thanks to Brandon for catching that one!)
  • The love story isn’t the primary focus of the original, which is a fine addition to the film.  But there still might be a problem (via io9):

In fact, the Button movie has one crucial similarity to Andrew Sean Greer’s 2004 novel, The Confessions Of Max Tivoli: they’re both structured as a love story. In both works, a man who’s born old and ages backwards falls in love as a child. And he loves the same woman for his entire lifetime. And in both the Greer novel and the new movie, the man and the woman connect at three different stages of their lives, as he grows younger and she grows older.

  • The original almost seems more tragic (and mines more humor) from his familial relations.  They are always around him.  When he’s an old toddler – he befriends his grandfather.  When he’s in his 20’s – he passes for his father’s brother (and falls in love with a 20 year old that likes older men).  As his wife ages, he grows disinterested by her appearance.  He can’t get into college because he looks too old, and he can’t return to war because he looks too young.  His own grown son forces him to call him uncle.  There’s enough fresh material there to not even have to snatch a snippet from the script of Gump.

I want to know how even though the adaptation of Die Hard followed its source more closely than Button does its own, screenwriter Steven E. de Souza never even get an Oscar wink, let alone a nod… come on, he deserved one (via Wikipedia):

Die Hard follows its source material — Roderick Thorp’s novel Nothing Lasts Forever— closely, much of the film’s memorable scenes, characters, and dialogue taken directly from the novel… changes included the older hero of the novel becoming younger, the hero’s daughter becoming his wife, and the American Klaxon Oil Corporation becoming the Japanese Nakatomi Corporation.

Good thing Eric Roth didn’t adapt that novel, or Forrest Gump might have been tracking down terrorists alongside Benjamin Button, like in Munich.  Wait, that might have actually been kind of cool…

My Heart(s) All A Twitter

There’s some things that are popular that I get, and there are somethings I don’t.  Then there are some I’m afraid to look too into out of fear of never escaping.  Such a curious mind can leave you with dementied brain dents you can never straighten out (I have four – FOUR* – images burnt into my retinas that will never leave me just because I had to go poking around on the TripleDoubleU).  And then there’s always the possibility of addiction (see my Songsmith post below).

And that, dear friends, is why I avoid things like Facebook and Twitter.  This WordPress blog is consuming enough.  One of my friends, Aaron, just started a Facebook profile and he’s spiraling down the drain like a dead goldfish in a toilet.

What I decided to do was test out the concept of Twitter, which is mini-blog you maintain through out the day.  How about you better explain it, Mr. Wiki:

Twitter is a free social networking and micro-blogging service that allows its users to send and read other users’ updates (otherwise known as tweets), which are text-based posts of up to 140 characters in length.

Okay, so pretty much what I said, not counting that mini vs. micro prefix.  So to illustrate how busy I am on a random day at work, allow me to present my Twitter test run.

10:35amI’m at a client cleaning spyware.  Hearts kicked my ass, but not bad enough for me to quit.  Is it bad that I quit when I’m losing?

11:27am – I answered questions after figuring out what was asked.  I held a door for a woman and she said there are still gentlemen in this world.

11:45amI was going to let a semi merge in front of me on freeway.  I used to battle truckers.  Since I’m nice now I think they look out for me.

12:02pmAt office, a minivan took its sweet time parking so I cut it off for the good spot.  So much for being a gentleman.  I had 2 pc’s to carry.

12:21pmProper restroom etiquette occurred whilst kids dropped off at pool.  Cannot linger when another is in the stall… it’s just not cool.

12:38pmHave to upgrade my copy of Quickbooks, but CD is in another pc.  Too lazy to get up.  Remoting in to share drive and install.  Win!

1:06pmAt Taco Bell (‘natch) some dude stole my cheesy double beef burritos from counter!  Was it a scam or coincidence?  I’m thinking scam.

1:39pmAt Best Buy wrestled with buying Prince of Persia for $40.  Prince of Persia won.

2:13pmMeaning to look into Drunken Recollection from last night.  Does blood thin in summer and thicken in winter?  Nurse/cousin Liz says no.

2:15pm –  Nurse/cousin Liz is right: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C0CE4DE1630F935A35751C0A966958260

2:31pmDave at work asks if I’d rather see Donkey Punch (again) or Street Fighter Chun Li.  I pick Donkey Punch.

2:32pmDave then asks if I’d rather see Donkey Punch or Tyler Perry movie.  I say Family that Preys got good reviews, so that, but not Madea.

2:33pmDave then asks if I’d rather see Street Fighter or Pink Panther 2.  I say Pink Panther… barely.

2:54 pmA brand new pc’s Windows is missing so I run the restore.  While it’s restoring, I work on this entry.  I think I might like Twitter.

*Some may say “Just four?” but these four are enough for me.

Sober Recollection… Going, Gothic, Gone!

Last night I went out for my friend, Jenny’s, 30th birthday.  We went to a goth industrial night club in Detroit called the (Leland) City Club:
Like Blade rave minus vampires and blood shower, I think

Like the rave in "Blade" minus vampires and blood shower, I think

We arrived late by my standards (courtesy of the snow and collected company), but it’s primarily an afterhours spot, so to the regulars, we were probably early.  Since it was midnight, I could have either pounded as many bottles as possible, or keep my mind clear for people watching.  Speaking of clear…

  • Upon arrival, I thought “I’ll keep my mind clear,” and I saw a dude in a clear shirt.  Then a grand woman passed by that put the BOOST in bustier, and I thought, “Biiiig.”  Then a woman no taller than 4′ followed her, and I thought, “Smaaaall.”
  • On the telly above the bar, this scene from “Superbad” was playing.  Notice the wound on McLovin’s cheek at the end… is it CGI?  It sure looks like it was digitally added, and I never noticed until last night:
  • A woman sat on a dude’s lap in the corner, straddling and facing him.  There was no movement, per sé, but I wondered if they were doing the deed.  I brought this up to another friend, Lisa, and she suspected the same.  It wasn’t until moments later that I saw them both smoking side-by-side that my suspicions were confirmed.
  • The electric chandelier above us had energy-efficient coiled black light bulbs:

Like this, but purple
Like this, but purple
  • There was a dude that looked like an elf, and a dude/dudette (?) that looked like an anime character, amongst many other things.  I pondered what percentage of people here partook in the Renaissance Festival (nice alliteration… at least the first part).  Since two people in our group of eleven had, it was fare to assume they weren’t alone.
  • I wasn’t surprised to find out that I knew some of the music (Ministry, Depeche Mode).  I was surprised to smell fabric softener coming off someone’s black hoodie with the anarchy logo on it:
Smells like Snuggle

Smells like Snuggle

  • I learned that my brain may be wired like that of a moth, as my eyes were wont to follow any bright light in the form of glow sticks, light up yoyos, and a shirt like this (the sound bars actually moved):
See the music, taste the light!

See the music, taste the light!

  • Finally, my nerdery outstepped itself by conjuring up reference to an obscure “Star Wars” character no one in my group knew, as there was a guy who looked exactly like this, save the green pigmentation… and his hair was in a bun:
"How do I get to Detroit? Is it on Hoth?"

"How do I get to this... Detroit? Is it on Hoth?"

(Sorry BillyGoatBluff, but it was another sober night.)

So Long, And Don’t Let The Automatic Door Hit You On The Way Out!

Asta La Windows Vista, Baby!

Asta La Windows Vista, Baby!

The hell hole that stole my soul will finally be no more.  Circuit Shitty is set to close it’s remaining 567 stores by the end of March, and it’s website will shut down today.

Why do I have such disdain for the retail store?  Let me count the ways:

  1. I took the job to avenge my sister – I should have known better.  I had recently moved back from L.A. where I worked at a Best Buy.  There, they had taught me that “Circuit City” was the enemy and “working for commission” was evil.  As the DVD market was beginning to grow, I remember us laughing about the ridiculous plan CC had in motion to develop DIVX (more on this in a moment).  My sister, Tammie, had opened store #3604 back home, and she had been complaining about a manager that kept hitting on her/harrassing her.  She refused to take action so I got a job there to make sure it stopped.  It did.  That manager ended up helping me make a lot of money, so he ended up being an all right guy.  Cursed Southern salesmanship!  (NOTE: To be read as “curs-ed”… not “curst”… thanks.)
  2. It elevated my lifestyle.  When I started there in August of ’98, working in the SOHO department (Small Office Home Office), I made something like $700 my first full-commission week.  The next week, I made $1oo more, and the next – $200.  I had worked at a medical center prior to BB, and at BB, I was the Media Department’s Senior (which is a splash above regular).  This money influx was amazing.  There were days I could make my week’s pay that day.  I spent more than I saved.  And it took me a long time to break that habit, as well as another.
  3. It turned me to drinking excessively, amongst other things.  You see it in every movie: Tom Cruise, Matthew McConaughey, Giovanni Ribisi… they start making money and things *snap* start *snap* happening.  I had so much money I didn’t know what to do.  Couple this with the fact I worked at a nightclub Friday and Saturday nights… well, I didn’t do completely stupid things.  I just drank more than I even do now and partook in inhaling and occasionally ingesting certain types of vegetation…
  4. I had to make the sale.  No.  Matter.  What.  I never outrightly lied.  I may have slightly bent or tip-toed to the edge of what our service plans covered, but as long as I worked there, anyone that came in with a problem was taken care of by me.  Too bad I was only there for a year-and-a-half (too long).
  5. The DIVX Dupe.  For those of you only familiar with the media format, there used to be format with the same name.  The idea was you’d buy a disc for $4.50 and once you played it in your machine, you had access to it for 48 hours, after which you had the option to pay $15 more to permanently unlock it, or could “rent” it again for $3.  It put a DVD player in my house, but it was a dumb idea.  And I was forced to sell this product to every customer.  And since it was in the TV Department, all out wars broke out between SOHO and TV (because of the spiffs).  When it finally folded as a format, all the discs went on sale for a buck or two.  I bought pretty much every one.  They exist in a box in my basement and predicted my eventual DVD purchasing habit (I currently own over 1200).
  6. The CompuServe Rebate Ripoff.  For the first Christmas I worked, people had to save up to buy a home pc.  The cheapest complete system (14″ monitor, tower, printer, and of course – service plan) cost $1585.55 out the door, with something like $50-$100 in rebates.  I killed at selling this package, and it probably made me eighty-some bucks a pop.  The following August I spent backpacking in Europe and upon returning, the well had dried up.  The cheap machine boom was upon us (as was the looming Y2K fiasco), and at the center of the shitstorm laid the CompuServe rebate.  Anyone would get a $400 dollar rebate for signing a 3-year agreement to join the dial-up service at $21.95 per month, so everyone and their kitchen sink were coming in for the “FREE” pc.  Hardly any commission on that, and try to sell service plans I did – to no avail.  Where I had been swimming in cash at the end of ’98, I dove into an empty pool at the end of ’99.  I wouldn’t last many months more because in addition to making peanuts for pay (I was back down to $400 per week – the horror!), the quality of products we sold had also diminished.  This lead me to take a second job overnight at Target which brought me a great group of friends I still associate with to this day, so maybe Circuit City wasn’t that bad after all.

(I feel cleansed like this was some type of confession.  BB CCing you in hell!)

Another one buyts the dust...
Another one BUYts the dust…

In My Brain While Sleeping… Sex Dream Fail

I’m not that lucky in life when it comes to the ladies, so you’d think my subconscious would make up for it at night, right?

I was living in L.A. again, working at a super-sized version of Best Buy that felt a little more like a Costco, so maybe it was at a Costco that had a Best Buy-styled electronics department.  Anywarehouse… it was before the holidays, and I was helping a woman locate a copy of “Little Miss Sunshine.”

As I rounded the discount bins, I spotted her:

Gosh, golly, gee, she sure is purdy

Gosh, golly, gee, she sure is purdy

I made some comment that the woman I was helping was looking for one of Amanda Bynes’ movies (she wasn’t in “Little Miss Sunshine,” but see my previous posts about my failing mental functions), and she perked up and walked right up to me.  Well, she sort stumbled toward me.

She smiled that winning grin: “You’re hot.”

I was taken aback by her candor.  “Well, so are you.”

The shopper reminded me that she needed to find that DVD for a Christmas present.

Amanda stepped stumbled closer to me.  It became clear to me she was more than a little tipsy, and since she’s seems like such a sweet girl in real-life, I’ll sugar coat her speak from here on out: “I wanna fudge you.”

The woman’s jaw dropped.  Who knows what my face looked like.  She sidled up to me and slipped her arm around my waist, resting her head on my shoulder.  “Will you take me home?”

The woman rushed off to complain to my manager, and my manager being the awesome manager he must have been (or maybe he was a complete apple), assessed the situation and sent me home.  So I resided to the fact of driving Ms. Bynes back to her place.  As we made our way to my vehicle, she announced that her mother and brother were with her, and I’d also have to drive them.

En route to her abode, she stared at me from the passenger seat, hazy and wobbling.  Her mother and brother argued in the back seat.  Upon arriving at their apartment building, we ascended a wide spiraling staircase to find that they had no furniture – only matresses spread out all over like some heroin den.  She invited me inside.

At this point, I already began the betrayal of myself, and sought out to only get her cell phone number as she lead me to her Serta perfect sleeper.  “Yeah, I’ll have to get your number so we can hang out sometime.”

As she rested on her springed laurels, she started saying a string of numbers.

“That’s too many for a phone number.”

“I’d put good money on it that your better than Justin.”

“Justin?”

“Timberlake.  I bet you fudge better.”  (NOTE: That sounds grosser than it should.)

“How about I give you my number, and then you can call my cell and I’ll have your number.”  I fiddled with my mobile and started reciting my ten digits.

She stood up and leaned her back against the wall.  She slipped the strap off one of her shoulders revealing her right muffin.

“I should really get going.”

And I woke up.  Brain, why do you forsake me even when I’m sleeping!?

INGREDIENTS: Four tall Coors Lights and half of a three-day old cajun crust pizza.

Drunken Recollection… Recollecting Is Getting Harder To Do When Drunk

What in the heckity-yeckity is going on with my mind?  I can’t remember things as easily as I used to mere years ago.  I’d like to blame it on aging, but since I’m in denial of going through that, I may have to blame it on drinking (and no, I do not have a problem).

It’s especially bad when the memories corrupted are the ones that were at one time so automatic (it has not yet affected my corrupted memories, ifugetwutimsayin).

How could I forget such nerdery as the titles of these:

The Voyage, um, The Journey, uhh... The Something Something

The Voyage, um, The Journey, uhh... The Something Something

It's Something...tion, like Generations or Insurrection, right?

It's Something...tion, like Generations or Insurrection, right?

Couple that with the fact I could not get to that wrinkle in my brain where I stored the third film to my Rutger Hauer Awesome Crap Trilogy: “Blind Fury,” “Deadlock“/”Wedlock”, and ?

(The third is the original version of  “The Hitcher.”  “Ladyhawke” gets an honorable nod.)

Now, what was I talking about again?

JusWondering… Tony Danza – Better Oscar Host Than Hugh Jackman?

This could have been In My Brain While Sleeping, but it may have occurred to me more as I was waking up: Tony Danza, famous for playing characters named Tony, should host the Academy Awards this year instead of Hugh Jackman.

Not to knock Wolverine off his high horse, but I think it’s time for this amicable, consummate entertainer to get his crack at another day.   Sure, “The Tony Danza Show” had it’s many flaws, but what about “Taxi” (the show not the flick)?  Who can forget the gender battleground that was “Who’s the Boss?”  And then there’s, um, always “Hudson Street“…

Plus, he’s been in film, and that’s a requirement to host the Oscars (David Letterman squeaked by with a cameo in “Cabin Boy“).  I’ll always remember Tony’s stunning performance in “She’s Out of Control!”

So in the end, do you want this?

When you can have this?

Reporter lady – what do you think?

Mr. Roarke Is No Moare

Ricardo Montalban, aged 88, has passed away.  He is best known for portraying Mr. Roarke on “Fantasy Island” and Khan in the second “Star Trek” film (and, of course, the original series, duh).

My lasting memory of him will remain in the form of this commercial that mixes two of my favorite things – Taco Bell and talented lions (which Detroit is in great need of):

If I had known you were still around recently, you would be greatly missed.  May you please settle for moderately missed.
Hopefully that's what's awaiting you big guy... not another you... ah, forget it

Hopefully, that's what's awaiting you, big guy... no, not another you... ah, forget it