A Pep Talk For TV Producer Bryan Fuller

Even though the TripleDoubleU’s a-rumbling over “Pushing Daisies” (some hint that the title may become eponymous with its fate), I say, sally forth, Bryan Fuller.  Your imagination, and our societal lack thereof, needs it.

From your beginnings, as a fan who got to write for his favorite franchise, “Star Trek,” through your development of the wonderful “Wonderfalls” and “Dead Like Me,” and the best part of the crap that “Heroes” has become (FYI… he wrote the first season’s incredible “Company Man”), I don’t feel like you’ve received your just desserts just yet.

It appears ABC’s gamble last Wednseday was good one (and funny, since the episode was about gambling).  I hope that “Pushing Daisies” can find the audience it needs to keep the Brass ordering more seasons.

And fear not if all does not go as planned (crossing fingers for new “Star Trek” show).  Look how long it took Judd Apatow to click with the mainstream.  There was “The Ben Stiller Show,” “Freaks and Geeks,” and “Undeclared” way before there was “The 40 Year Old Virgin.”

We need people like you in Hollywood (and Charlie Kaufman, and maaaaybe Zack Snyder), since the Lucas and Spielberg wells have all dried up.  Who else will do battle with the Michael Bays, Stephen SommersBrett Ratners, and (vomit) Friedberg/Seltzers of the world?

JusWondering… “Nobody Nose” – I Smell A Conspiracy

Little voice, big um...
Little voice, big um…

You know that cringe.  

Tennis shoes and can sing? Marry me
Tennis shoes and can sing? Marry me

That recoiling feeling when something is justnotright.  It’s minor, maybe ignorable, and perhaps even a subconscious tingling, but you still notice it.  When Sara Bareillis first hit the scene with her infectious (will-it-be-one-)hit(-wonder?), “Love Song,” I took note of her CD cover in passing at a Target.  I wondered what she looked like, but I didn’t take the further effort to investigate, um, further, like by simply flipping over the case. 

I didn’t think much about the picture at the time.  It only reminded me of how they made Alanis Morissette mysterious with quick cuts (which seem slow nowadays) in her video for “You Oughta Know.”  (It’s so Nineties it’s hilarious.)

When I finally saw the video, that’s when the cringe hit me.  Could it be?  Would they?

One of my biggest pet peeves in the world is what I’ve come to collectively call: Marketing.  It’s not just about the corporations anymore (though in this case it is).  I hate being sold to, and if you’re a poser, you’re a loser (my lame t-shirt slogan… I bet I could make a shitload off selling it to posers, though).  I try to associate myself with real people for this very reason.  In fact, I think this whole country would be a whole lot better place if people weren’t afraid to be who they really are, and if they don’t know who they are, I’d hope that they could enjoy the ride of trying to figure that out.

Anyhooptyhoo, I find Sara attractive.  I’m a sucker for the chanteuses as it is, and it makes me mad that the marketers of this world (particularly her label), may not have.  They thought she might not sell if the front and back covers were reversed.  These are my own interjections, of course, but this is the same label she directed the song at.  They wanted her to write a catchy pop love song to sell to the masses, and in response, her inner cringe produced a massive hit. 

And what prompted all this old news to get dragged up?  Not as old news that’s become new news due to any upcoming DVD release.

Why cover your costar?
Why cover your costar?
Why cover your star?
Why cover your star?

I felt the cringe when the original posters came out, and I don’t think it was just because they’re not even in the slightest least bit funny…

Minor Facts That Didn’t Make It To The Fact Sheet

FACT 1: I never stop my engine when I get gas.  Someone yelled at me the other day about it.

But my argument is that it saves me at least 38 seconds, every three days, in my hectic high paced life of writing and fixing computers and drinking.  This video is why I don’t fix my sweater when I get out of my car:

 
I really do wish it was also a lesson in how blowing on a flaming gas dispenser, or scraping it on the cement to put a fire out, is a bad idea, but we can’t have everything I guess.

FACT 2: I play soccer.  It’s indoor, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been rocked in the face by a kicked ball.

Scratch that “getting rocked” comment above.  I get pebbled compared to this guy:

 
And that’s not even that bad, in comparison to this.

FACT 3: And speaking of getting rocked, I was at one point an aspiring rock star.  (This is way before I realized my dreams playing Rock Band.)

I was perhaps a little better than this guy:


At least, I would have had the common sense not to be in a shower in my video.  If I did, then the world would know I shower in swim trunks.  I must stop doing that!

Who’s Megan Fox? Are You Kidding Me?

Here’s a question, and it’s a doozy.  Could you believe someone on Planet Mother @#$%ing Earth, in this age of Instant Internet Gratification, that anyone of the us in the path of The Giant Spoon Chock Full of Mashed Pop Culture (we all wait with our mouths open), would not know who this is?

Duly named

Duly named if you cover the n

My sister, Tammie, and I carpooled today, and she dropped the bombshell about the Bombshell on me this morning.  “Who’s Megan Fox?”  I dropped some names of the movies she’s been in – “Transformers,” uh, the next “Transformers,” “How to Lose Friends and Alienate People.”  It didn’t help.

Not needed, but hey...

Not needed, but hey... (also not needed: butt hay)

When I picked her up after work, she had done some homework while at work.  After scouring the TripleDoubleU, she told me that Megs reminded her of a more delicate Courtney Cox (ugh).  I did disclose that she had some cosmetic surgery, and that I wasn’t a big fan of that.  But my sister regaled in the fact she was engaged to this guy (not him, but the – oh, you’ll see):

Our other discussions weren’t as noteworthy, except for the fact that during some part of the chat I wasn’t really paying attention to, I almost threw up in my mouth when she told me she and her fiance have “mutual trust.”  (I almost gagged again.)  I don’t know why.  I think it conjures S&M or something.  Gross. 

Oh, and one last thing: the song at the beginning of the trip was Weezer’s “Troublemaker.”  The song at the end – “Troublemaker.”  Ah, modern radio.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Short and Sweet

I’ll cut these odd, recollected flashings to the point:

The Short:

Just like them, except more thumb-like

Just like them, except more thumb-like

There was a pair of thumb-shaped people.  Each of them were about two-feet tall, one man, one woman.  They dressed in the style of traditional (stereotypical?) Dutch people.  The weird thing was the guy had to stay laying down, otherwise his organs would shift and kill him, and the lady had to stay standing for the same reason.  They were on a news report in my dream that stated, “They’re perfect for each other.  He can pick up low things, and she can grab things that are high… well, two-feet high…”

 

The Sweet:

me

Not pictured: me, spaghetti

I was hanging out with Posh and Becks.  We were at their house, in which everything was pure white – the fancy carpet, the leather couches, the marble end tables.  Posh was leaning over the end table, leafing through magazines.  Becks was relaxing across one of the couches (I think it was the love seat, but I didn’t want to put that… oops… at least I didn’t put he was shirtless… damn!)  I was sitting on the floor across from Posh, at the end of the coffee table.  We were all eating spaghetti for some reason.  Finis.

Yummy... wait, what?
Yummy… wait, what?

(Above pic from Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster)

Bonus spaghetti: Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!

Goin’ Down At South Park… Plus Bonus Creepy Thing!

If you’ve watched the last two episodes of “South Park,” you’re probably as baffled as I am.  It almost felt like a dream state in its level of confusion, but it tiptoed toward the nightmare of the possibility that the show might be losing it again (I consider the movie the relaunch of creativity).  Grant it – I did find aspects of the episode humorous, but as a whole, it left me unfulfilled.

From listening to Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s commentaries off past seasons’ DVD’s, and knowing that they shelf some ideas for later, I can only assume (<–that’s the devil’s word!) that it came out of this grab-bag of manatee balls:

There must be Peruvian flute bands all over California.  (Possibly the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica, since that’s what the artwork looked like to me.)  Trey, Matt, and/or the remaining writing staff probably saw potential in these groups, and it was the germ for some kind of story.

That germ turned into a full blown virus when they found this website (again, a staff member might have already known about them – possibly owned some – but whatevs… the site is aww-inducing).  This “bit” probably was the only highlight aside of Craig’s recounting to the other boys how much everyone else hates them.

“Pandemic 2: The Startling” can be seen South Park Studios’ website.

For fans of creepy rodents on this Halloween, check this out:

This Guy Will Ruin Theme Songs For You Forever

Okay, so maybe not so much ruin them… But just as the dog’s mouth watered whenever Pavlov rang that bell, you will not NOT think of the words to these wordless scores ever again.  You’ve been warned…

Oh, and Happy Angel’s Night (says the guy who has to stay home and guard his house like he’s Kevin McCallister on Christmas).

His Jaws and Indy parodies are just as wicked.

JusWondering… My Owl Irks

Hooters, The Restaurant, much like The Owl it’s “based” on, is here to stay.  (Well, I guess it depends on which owl species, but I digress.)

Also like The Owl, The Restaurant isn’t as cool as it used to be.  “Hey look!  That owl can turn his head all the way around, almost!”

Upon my recent visit, it occurred to me why I don’t go there as often as I had in my youth.  (Okay, it happened to be my second visit this week.  We went for a “change of pace” on Monday, and they informed us that Thursday was Buy One Boneless Wing Get One Free Day, and that Friday everyone was dressing up for Halloween…  I’ll let you know how it goes.)

Anywow, the reason Hooters has lost its luster, for me at least, is the gimmicky things that they still insist on doing.  My Pet Peeves AKA My Owl Irks are as follows:

1) Ladies, don’t write your name on the napkins.  Don’t sign it with a heart.  Don’t googily goo it up with your real name and your nickname.  You can do this on the receipt, though.  It doesn’t affect me the same.
 
2) Shit-can the birthday song.  Unless it’s for a twelve year old boy (“Hey look!  That owl tried to scoop up that wiener dog cuz he thought it was a squirrel!”), this routine simply puts a spotlight on the biggest douche-bag in the restaurant.  The only other exception – friends trying to embarrass a buddy.

3) I can open my own containers.  Be it A-1 Steak Sauce or a tub of ranch, I can handle unscrewing and ripping just fine.  I often unscrew by myself and rip ones at home – wait, that doesn’t sound right.

4) The ketchup faces must stop.  Stop.  Seriously.  Explaining that the face is “hungover” helps no one keep their dignity.

5) If I want merchandise, I will ask you.  Isn’t it enough you talked me into curly fries?  What am I made of – money?  The calendar’s on sale, you say… And there’s not a single house pet?

6) Hula hooping your boredom away makes me bored.  How about sword fighting?  Perchance arm-wrestling?  Maybe arm-wrestling with oil in a pool with full body contact?

7) We’re not buying that you like us if you sit with us.  I do buy that you like me if you feed me a french fry.  (This happened to me once… I had no follow up so nyeh.)

8) You charged me for a potato salad that’s your lunch?   Well, there goes $1 off your 30% tip.

The Good And The Bad Ugly

Here’s a quick one minute lesson…

Good Commercial:

(Reminds me of how my sister, Tammie, would spit her food in napkins and run to the bathroom to get rid of it when she was a kid… as an adult, she just spreads it out on her plate and yells, “All done!”)

Bad Ugly Commercial:

(This @#$% earworm makes me want to put a fork in my eyes and pull it out my ears!  Such rage!)

Happy Find… ChaCha

I must have been living under a rock (that rock being my huge non-camera having cell phone), because I only just discovered ChaCha (actually my bro did, and he passed the word onto me).

If you don’t know what ChaCha is, I’m not going to tell you.  You’ll have to send a text message to 242242, and ask “What is ChaCha?”

Basically, it’s like OnStar via text messaging, and it’s quite frankly awesome, considering how much Google text sucks.  (Sure, it may not reach the levels attained by Internet phones, but it’s saving me an extra $30 a month).

Some examples of ChaCha interactions:

Q: Which came first – Facebook or MySpace?
A: MySpace launched in August of 2003 and Facebook was founded on February 4, 2004. MySpace was first… based off of Friendster.

Q: How does ChaCha make money as a company?
A: Through strategic partnerships and advertising campaigns such as the Obama ad.

Q: How much is Tiny Toons Season 1 DVD at deepdiscount.com?
A: It is $30.89 with free shipping.

Q: What is your favorite article on monkeyblogmonkeydo.com?
A: My favorite article is “It’s So Cold in 14J-4.”

I think they might have a new favorite now. And golly gee, so do I.