JusWondering

JusWondering… S#!% Misses The Fans (And The Drummer)

Posted on by sgottahurt

In the many, many random discussions I have with friends and family, there’s one I had awhile ago that I can’t quite shake.

Over the course of the ramblings (mind you, these topics flowed seamlessly into each other somehow), my cousin, Steve, and I touched upon Vh1’s “Freakiest Concert Moments,” wearing plastic training pants in a strip club, and how to go about renting a steamroller.

About the Vh1 special: Apparently, some band made a bet with their manager and he lost, or they won (I cannot find this story anywhere… plus I cannot watch Vh1 – except for “Surreal Life”).  Anythewho, the manager (or agent) had to hang upside down over the drummer nude during the show.  The band forgot about him and by the time they remembered, he had passed out.  I was expecting the tale to end with his eyes shooting out of his head, or to discover he suffered some serious brain damage (more than the drugs that caused the bet to go through ever could).  The true finale is even better.  He had passed out quite early during the show because he was trying to shit on the drummer to get his attention.  He tried so hard it made him pass out.

I tried to imagine how one might go about shitting while upside down.  You would obviously have to try to grab your ankles, right?  In order to aim down?  Because the last thing you’d want to experience while hanging upside down in the buff is to feel a trail of your own crap running up your back and into your hair.  I’m just saying.

(The rest of this exciting JusWondering to follow later… And if anyone has a clue which rock band this happened to, please comment below!)

JusWondering… I Can Has Licenz Playt?

Posted on by sgottahurt

Also a game in prison...

Also a game in prison...

I have a love/hate (or would that be LUVH8) relationship with personalized license plates, and I’ve never been sure exactly why.  Part of me thinks of it as a game with my fellow road warriors, a la “Bumper Stumpers.”  Another part is reminded of txtspk, and sometimes that gmg (“gets my goat”… come on, I’m trying to start one).

The reason that txtspk can drive me crazy goes back to the game show – wtf does some of that shit rly mean?  (Well, that, and some of the stuff that makes sense makes little sense.)

Examples:  On my road trip to Chitown, I passed a couple of peeps w/ personalized plates.

FLINX – Fuck links… do you hate golf? Is your name Flin X (which I’d admit would be pretty cool)?
SAF – Shitty Ass Fuck indeed… initials are stupid
NVMEEE– Sooo original u needed 3 E’s
BLZR98 – Not on a ’98 Blazer – ironic?  (ARTS BRD on a Thunderbird and 06SMART on a ’06 Smart car – not ironic)

I know a lot has already been taken, and you are limited in your space, but here are some of the faves I’ve seen through the years:

PB4UGO – This one took a bit of brain shifting because my first thought was “Peanut butter for you, go”
IM1RU12 – This one had a surrounding plate holder declaring the driver was an alumnus from that particular school… though normally I’m not a fan of school spirit after you’ve left school (I’m bitter that way), I thought this was clever enough to include mostly because they were quick enough to get it first
IGODWN2 – This one is especially humorous to me because I happened upon it one night I was driving around, soul searching… my eyes focused on GOD first and I smiled… my smile grew bigger when I noticed the rest

Have you noticed any good personalized plates?

JusWondering… “Nobody Nose” – I Smell A Conspiracy

Posted on by sgottahurt

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…

JusWondering… My Owl Irks

Posted on by sgottahurt

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.

Come Get Yer Sexy Costume Challenge Right Here!

Posted on by sgottahurt

Update: My sister, Becky, helped me “uncover” one other toy.

With Halloween upon us, I feel it is my civic duty to challenge any or all of you ladies out there that are: A) creative and B) like to… sexy it up… (I was going to put “slutty it up,” but here I did anyway.)

Now let it be known, I’m all about nostalgia, and in addition to that, I’m for the sexification/sluttification of said nostalgia.  I mean, isn’t that what Halloween is all about anyway… in a non-nostalgic way?  (Maybe regular candy has evolved into eye candy.)

But here’s the challenge: we’ve all seen the Strawberry Shortcakes, Rainbow Brites, She-Ras, and Jems.  I still have a fondness for Jabba Palace Leia (especially when there’s a bunch of them pillow fighting), and kudos to those ladies that work wonders as a Care Bear (whodathunk Grumpy could look cheery).  What follows are my suggestions… my outside-the-(cardboard)-box starters, if you will.

To begin: how about Herself the Elf?

Herself Shortcake
Full name: Herself Shortcake

Sure, she’s not too unlike any other fairies (goth girls, whut-whut!), but no one is going around proclaiming, “I’m Herself the Elf!”  Another idea (and in this line there are plenty of options) – what about a Charmkin?

Mmm... bendy

Mmm... bendy

The bulk of the costume would be standard fare, but the kicker is the ring on your head with a giant charm necklace going through it.  Can you imagine that?  How about Blinkins?

I wanna say something about curtains and carpets...

I wanna say something about curtains and carpets...

No pants and a light up bottom?  If that’s a no-go, then let’s go with the girl’s version of Transformers (or maybe more-so GoBots) – Sweet Secrets.

The secret is these toys suck.

The secret is these toys suck.

You could even go as far as these guys and make your shell open up so you can hide inside.  Another great venture would be the alternative to the two-man horse… the two woman My Little Pony.  (Argue over whom gets which end!)

My Little Hair Brush

Also pictured: My Little Hair Brush

My last idea is by far not the least.  My final challenge (and if anyone pulls this off send me pics) – Alf’s Melmacian lost love, Rhonda.  I’ll leave the details to you.

Rhonda is the alien that's not ALF
Rhonda is the alien on the right

JusWondering… Red Vs. Blue (Phillies Vs. Rays)

Posted on by sgottahurt

UPDATE: Now with working video.

Last night, as I watched the end of Game 3 of the World Series between the Tampa Bay Rays and Philadelphia Phillies, I found myself further rooting for Tampa Bay, and I might have realized why.

At first, it was easy to root for them – they were playing against the dreaded Boston Red Sox for the Pennant.  Now grant it, there’s always going to be a special place at the top of my shit list for the New York Yankees, but Boston sure ain’t far behind.  That’s because of all Boston teams (well, the Bruins are kind of like their Lions).  They came close to winning three titles in the same year (the Sox and the Celtics did it), but the New York Giants stopped Brady’s Butt Pats in their tracks.  (Thanks, Eli!)

I want Detroit to be the sports capital – I want at least two of the three great teams here to win in the same year at least once (I’ve written you off Lions, ‘natch).  So as I watched the game, I thought I may have found a kindred spirit in Tampa Bay.  It’s a do-over for the Detroit Tigers, with the Philadelphia Phillies standing in for the St. Louis Cardinals.  They both made it to the World Series the after having recent last place seasons and they each beat the Big Bad Wolf in their way there (we knocked out the Yankees in the ALDS and swept the A’s in the ALCS!)

Then the next realization hit me like a foul ball (while eating a cheese pretzel) – the color scheme’s the same!  Red vs. Blue.  If the MLB brass had their druthers, their dream series of Boston vs. LA carried the same palette.

This got me wondering how often this happened in baseball… this Red vs. Blue pattern.  Then I digressed and remembered this gem:

…Then, I digressed beyond that and thought of two films I recently watched within a 24-hour period that followed the same pattern.  Enjoy!

(If you can’t watch this entire clip below, skip to 6:20 mark.)

JusWondering… Size Matters Was Buried Beyond Pet Sematary

Posted on by sgottahurt

I just finished watching the latest episode of “South Park” entitled “Pandemic” (watch the full episode here).

To quickly sum up: Peruvian Flute Bands have become a pandemic, and in the traditional “South Park” fashion, things get overblown and out of control, and a new evil is unleashed on the world.  It’s in the ending of the episode that I lost it.

A few days ago, I posted this about the insufficiently examined concept of size of the “evil one” in horror films affecting the level of fear it produces.  Without giving the episode’s ending away, I referred to something similar to the reveal in the final act.

Seeing that reminded me I didn’t delve into the other end of the spectrum: too big is not scary.  Sure Godzilla can crush our house beneath his feet, and King Kong can pick his teeth with our ribs, but we see them as ominous by default.  There’s a sense of hopelessness, not panic – a main ingrediant in fear.

Take Peter Jackson’s “King Kong”: the ape himself was not terrifying (in fact, he was the prima(te)ry love interest).  Nor were the T-rex’s outrightly so.  But those giant insects… and the face-hugger things in the pit… although they were CGI-done-right, they wer able to get the skin crawling.

Now imagine King Kong as 48 inches tall.  He waits in the corner of your basement.  You flick on the lights, and see his scarred face.  He launches at you, roaring.  You scramble up the staircase with him only a stair or two behind you.  His long arms missing you by inches.  He’s big enough to be a manageable threat (as opposed to a two-foot tall King Kong you can keep away with a chair… or a Swiffer or something), and that’s what causes that special kind of anxiety.

Now why not six-foot tall… or eight or ten, you ask?  I believe it’s because my brain considers the possibility that it’s a man in costume.  That’s why four-foot tall works, because at best, that giant Gremlin or tiny Godzilla is an adolescent or preteen in costume.  I can see an adult going loco, but a middle-schooler?

In closing: babies and little kids aren’t scary (depending on who you ask I guess) because of their size, adults are lame, and awkward ten, eleven, and twelve year olds are the root source of our nightmares.  (Perchance we remember too well…)

(EXCLUSION TO THE SIZE MATTERS: the homicidal kid in “Pet Sematary” is kinda creepy, but nowhere near as revolting as the adult sister in bed.)

JusWondering… Size Matters?

Posted on by sgottahurt

With Halloween approaching, I begin my usual ponderings like: who’s hosting a party? 

Will there be booze?

The Right Answer

The Right Answer

And is someone in Hollywood considering a remake of “Gremlins” as a CGI movie?

That eventually leads me to ponder about what makes something scary in an allegedly scary movie.  CGI does not work.  Sure, “Jurassic Park” had the advantage of being the first flick to fool our minds with computer graphics, but it smartly mixed in animatronics and puppets as well.

To me, it’s the proximity of the “evil one” in relation to the hero that works well.  When the Queen in the first “Alien” film sleeps not far from where Ripley’s about to hit the hay, that’s creepy.  In “Ju-On,” the Japanese original remade into “The Grudge,” I can barely handle the scene when the girl in bed removes the covers off her face to find the ghost woman bent over her.  (Maybe my fears are sleep-based.)  Then there’s always that ending chase in “Texas Chainsaw Massacre”…

One facet of horror in film that I believe goes untouched is size.  Big things are terrifying and small things are chilling, but what about medium things?

Going back to to the puppets in “Gremlins,” they were definitely small dangerous, and small dangerous can be frightening (ask Karen Black in “Trilogy of Terror.”)  But Gremlins in all their puppety-ness can fit in blenders and microwaves.  What are you going to do against a four-foot tall Gremlin?  A four-foot tall Chuckie?  Or a four-foot tall hamster?

In order from least scary to most.

In order from least scary to most.

JusWondering… Columbus Day

Posted on by sgottahurt

Update: Added one more holiday after a discussion with my friend, Devin.

This past Monday came and went in a flash, and it wasn’t until the next day that I realized a holiday had passed – one that hadn’t mattered since grade school, if even then.  But it got me juswondering… didn’t somebody disprove Columbus “discovering” America?

I thought the Columbus story went the way of Shakespeare, Brontosauruseseses, and Pluto (the Planet our Very Educated Mother Just Showed Us when we were wee)?

Perhaps Columbus Day is sort of like an appendix… something we keep around because it’s there, but it might kill us if it becomes inflamed, much like the boats Columbus used to discover this continent.

Then I started thinking about what body parts other holidays might be akin to.  For example, Birthdays are like crow’s feet… they keep coming whether you want them or not. 

Thanksgiving is like a spare tire – or a muffintop for the ladies – because we revel in unloosening our belt buckles and passing out watching tv (as if every other day doesn’t count).

Independence Day = genitalia… especially when it comes to fireworks.  Our fascination develops over time from childhood to adults.  At first, it’s all *yay* sparklers.  As adults, it’s illegal and Chinese and dangerous.

Valentine’s Day is like kidneys.  Two is natural… one is sad.

Halloween is any body part this guy fixes:

Labor Day could be an upset stomach because you can’t wear white after it.

And Christmas would be an itchy butthole… because sometimes you can’t pick what you get.