Damn You, MTV!

Well, it’s happened again…

I’m flipping through the channels (the advantage of only having basic cable and no TiVo in my bedroom: I can randomly and quickly flip to my hearts content) and I stumble across this cute guy rambling about nothing in particular… within seconds I realize that it is the new season of MTV's The Real World. While I fumbled for the remote to change the channel, I became hooked.

DAMN YOU, MTV! With your hotties and your perfectly-cast cast of dysfunctional characters, I am now going to be forced to watch these idiots on parade—and in my secret, secret shame, I’ll enjoy it immensely.

Within minutes of the cast arriving in the house (a converted warehouse in Austin, TX), they are all in the hot tub and two of the girls are making out. In fact, as the girls were choosing their bedrooms, Hottie Melinda said, “Rachel and I are very similar, I’m sure we’ll be making out before the show is over.” Silly me, I thought she was talking about the series, not the episode. However, everyone did keep their clothes on when ALL 7 took a shower together...

MTV perfectly casts each one of these series with the standard group:
Angry Black Man: This season, it’s Nehemiah. He arrives in a T-shirt with Africa emblazoned across the front and a huge wooden necklace in the shape of Ethiopia. I think he’s trying to get in touch with his African roots--or only shops at one store... Naturally, he’s interested in some of the white chicks on the show—which he will have an internal struggle with at some point.

Cool, Cute Jock Guy: Danny, from Boston… He's such a Bostonian, in fact, that during introductions, Wes walks up—and before they’ve even spoken to each other—says, “you must be from Boston…” By the end of the first episode, Cool, Cute, Jock Guy Danny has practically bedded one roommate while another started making out with him in a bar… I don’t blame the women for falling for him: he’s adorable and he’s got a body that he must spend way too much time working on. I should note that MTV needs to get his naked chest more air time…

Guy Who Probably Won’t Get Laid: Wes. Poor guy, he’s a “total frat dude” trapped behind a 'red headed step chiled' face—his body is pretty nice—I don’t think any of the girls will go for him. He does look a bit like a computer geek, which I hear all the girls just love... to have a nice conversation about Cool, Cute, Jock Guy Danny...

Virgin: Played by the “out of character” Melinda. Extremely pretty and has an adventurous attitude (i.e. slutty). She also has a boyfriend, which will fill her full of angst before she dumps him to sleep with Cool, Cute, Jock Guy Danny. Hottie Melinda likes to walk around in just her panties and bra—apparently, she does this at home “all the time.” I bet back home all they guys hang out at her place… I'm sure in an episode or two, Hottie Melinda will be tearfully breaking up with her boyfriend so she can bang Cool, Cute, Jock Guy Danny in the hot tub...

Outsider: Usually, this is the gay character, but we don’t seem to have one this season (hey, they’re in Texas, I don’t think they want any cast members killed…), so Johanna is our girl. She’s cute, she’s sweet, she’s originally from Peru, so she’s definitely going to be crushed emotionally before the season is out.

Bitch: While she hasn't done much, yet, I can clearly see that Rachel will be our girl. She constantly is going on about how "everyone gets along" and "everyone is so cool." This is the first sign that things will not remain that way... and she's the type that will want to either be the savior or cause of all the drama in the house. Maybe she'll get mad at Hottie Melinda for not making out with her some more in the hot tub?


The first night the kids go out to a club and get intensely drunk and dance in that oh-so-innocent ‘bump and grind’ fest. Maybe it’s just me, but if you put on a condom and go at each other, you’re having sex, so how do these guys feel that bumping and grinding against each other—IN PUBLIC—is any different? That there’s no penetration? Sorry, but simulated orgasm says it’s pretty much the same thing to me… Yet, after drunkenly bumping and grinding against each other in a bar, Melinda and Cool, Cute, Jock Guy Danny want to “respect” Melinda’s boyfriend. I’d hate to see what they’d do if they didn’t respect the guy.

The season promises to have some “real drama” as Cool, Cute Jock Guy Danny gets hit in the face during a fight… and his face is bruised! He has to wear a bandage! On his face! Oh, why Lord?! Why must the beautiful suffer? Cool, Cute, Bruised Jock Guy Danny doesn’t plan to suffer for long, he hopes to use his injury to get into Hottie Melinda’s pants. Cool, Cute, Jock Guy Danny may respect Hottie Melinda's boyfriend, but that doesn't mean he's not going to get into her pants anyway.

The Christian Right can run around screaming and yelling to the youth of America to “stop having fun,” but I believe that no one is watching that crap—they’re watching a whole other type of crap: The Real World.

I still say, “Damn you, MTV for making me watch this crap,” but I’ve got to give your credit, you’re doing your best to subvert those Christian Extremists who are so determined to stop everyone from having a good time. So, I’ll continue to watch… but I’ll hate myself a little bit for watching it.

Next rant: Damn You, VH1 for “Strip Search” and “Kept,” two of the guiltiest, guilty pleasures of the summer.

The (re) Gift

Last December I attended one of those White Elephant Gift Parties where everyone brings a "white elephant gift” (read: something you don’t want) and there's a big, fun exchange with people "stealing" a gift from others and all sorts of Christ-is-born-let-greed-ensue kind of fun. No gift can cost more than $10—so it’s difficult to find something cheap but with an appropriate fun-quotient.

I always try to bring something really goofy and fun—maybe even risqué—and most others do the same. Strange videos, weird items sold on late night TV, and items you see in stores and wonder, “who would buy that?” are all the rage. However, there is always someone with a stunted sense of humor that brings something that they think is hysterical, but is just lame. Guess which one I always seem to end up with?

This year I got stuck with a Los Angeles Dodgers Baseball clock and a crappy ornament. Not a funny-lame ornament, not something that was so completely repellant in an ironic and fun way, but something that was just unattractive enough to not want. I opened it and no one squealed or laughed… it was that let down sound of the room collectively thinking, “Glad I didn’t get that.”

While I don’t hate the Dodgers, Lord knows, I certainly don’t love them… so, what was I to do with it? I left the party with it and it has sat in the back of my truck for the last 7 months…

Last night I went to James and Robin’s house for a wedding shower (for Amy and Freedom—I may not have written about them before, but I’m sure I will in the future). It was a great party: tons of food, booze and good conversation. As ‘the men’ were by the barbeque, watching James burn burgers beyond recognition and blaming it on the rest of us, we talked politics, The Los Angeles Dodgers (James is a huge fan) and real estate.

I’m always a little out of it on these straight-boy/men conversations. When it comes to sports, I say nothing. When it comes to politics, I say little, because most of these guys are Republican’ts, and I know nothing about real estate. Usually, I throw in (what I think is) a funny line here and there. I pride myself on my witty banter…

James was discussing buying the house he’s renting when he said, “Well, there are some problems—there’s lead paint in the garage… poor Lilly [his daughter] won’t be able to play in there… the garage is definitely closed.” I immediately pictured barricades blocking the garage…

In my effort to be amusing, I tried to make light of it by saying, “Well, just don’t let her eat the paint chips…” No one laughed. Desperate to recover, I followed with, “…however, they are mighty tasty.” Complete silence. Crickets were chirping and somehwere in the distance, a dog barked into the sunset...

Two hours later, as I was leaving, I pulled aside James—the huge Dodgers fan—and told him I had something in my truck that he would love.

I sifted through the crap in the back of my truck and came up with the clock (the not-ugly-enough-ornament was unceremoniously tossed into the trash the night of the White Elephant Party) and came up with the clock (still keeping time, I might add…). After dusting off with a scarf that has seen better days, I presented him with the Los Angeles Dodgers desk clock…

He looked at it for a second, brushed a little more of the dust off and said, “Uh… cool. Thanks.”

“I thought you’d like it,” I beamed, “being you’re such a Dodgers fan…”

“Excellent,” he said, trying to ramp up his enthusiasm, “I’ll put this in the garage.”

Poor Mel…

Ann Bancroft, an elegant actress if there ever was one, died today of cancer. I can’t tell you how many times I watched The Miracle Worker growing up. Bancroft’s performance won her a Tony and an Oscar, and despite it being a brilliant performance that one would think it but it was her role in The Graduate that sealed her into American pop culture superstardom.

Nary a straight guy growing up has not gone through an Anne Bancroft phase—that moment after seeing The Graduate for the first time, when they start looking at older women. For some it’s fleeting, for others it can last a long, long time.

Being a little gay boy, I loved her for a number of terrific performances:

• The Turning Point—lots of drama, lots of dance, plus that incredible fight on the steps of Lincoln Center
  Garbo Talks—duh. It’s GARBO!
• Agnes of God—Why do I love nuns so much?
• The Elephant Man—So accepting of someone different… meant a lot to a 16 year-old queer boy
• Torch Song Trilogy—What can I say, it was a great big gay movie and she was in it
• How to Make an American Quilt—…um, okay, I only remember two things from this film: 1) she smoked week, and 2) Johnathon Schaech’s bod… and not in that order.
• GI Jane—Face it, the movie is trashy, at best, but Bancroft brought it up from the depths. Every scene seemed to be of her in the back of a limo, but I loved it!
• Keeping the Faith—I loved this movie, this is one of those performances where an actress knows her part and doesn't try and upstage anyone... and that made me notice her more.
• The Miracle Worker—If you want to witness an actress at the height of her craft, this is the film. Sadly, too many think of this as Patty Duke’s movie, but Anne is the one that keeps it from being a comedy. I hate to use this cliché, but her performance was truly sublime, I can not think of a more deserving Oscar performance.

While she always seemed to have such an air of dignity, what threw almost everyone was her 40-year marriage to Mel Brooks. Italian Anne, an elegant woman who carried such an air of seriousness, paired with the voracious clown (and nice Jewish boy), Mel. She became his muse—she is credited with encouraging Mel to bring The Producers to Broadway as well as inspiring several of his films. When asked by a reporter what kept such an odd pairing together, she replied, “I’d never had so much pleasure being with another human being. I wanted him to enjoy me too. It was that simple.”

Thank you, Anne. We enjoyed you as well.

May the Force Be With Us All…

Now that I’ve finally seen the new Star Wars, I’m a bit sad it’s all over. Sure, there will be a TV series and specials, but the story is now complete—even sadder when you think the conclusion of the series is Return of the Jedi… (what a load).

If I had to put them in order of preference, I guess it would go: IV (Hope), V (Empire), III (Sith), VI (Jedi), I (Phantom), and absolutely last, II (Clones). Sad, when you think of how technologically advanced I, II, & III were and yet they can’t come close to the originals. Maybe, it’s because the originals have a story and didn’t depend on technology.

Here is my humble opinion of the "silogy” in order of appearance:

A New Hope: The original Star Wars. Fun story, fun action, and mind-blowing (for their time) special effects. George Lucas, the Hollywood outsider who wanted to be a true independent filmmaker, created the most Hollywood/studio film ever and brought in the mega-budget, mega-spectacle summer blockbusters that the studios will continue to crank out to only moderate success. Best, in the sense that it is a very simple story, and is the only film in the trilogy to truly stand alone. George combined and borrowed (some would say “stole”) from a number of cultures and mythologies to create vivid and exciting new worlds. The film is an incredible achievement in filmmaking and perseverance by a filmmaker.

Granted, there was one flaw in this film and that’s George Lucas. He tends to run roughshod over things he doesn’t really care about. Poor Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. They raise Luke, take care of him for 18 years and when they die a brutal, horrible death, Luke sort of shrugs it off, saying, “There’s nothing for me here…” and quicker than you can say “lightspeed!” he’s off in space. Later, when Ben Kenobi dies—a man he’s only just met—he’s inconsolable. Besides that (and Luke’s constant whining), ‘Hope’ was a winner.

Empire Strikes Back: Truly the best film of the group. Dark and complex, it took the fun action film and turned it on its ear. “Luke, I am your father,” was as mind-blowing as the special effects. Darth Vader went from being this menacing, almost-peripheral figure, to momentous. No longer did we want Darth Vader to be beaten, we wanted to know more about him—who was he, what happened? The simple story and vivid worlds of the first film now become complex and multi-layered. These people are real, they are multifaceted in that they aren’t good and bad, but have bits of both within them.

On the plus-plus side: Luke did considerably less whining—although, on Dagobah, he did bitch and moan quite a bit (granted, for comic effect). I wanted to shout out, “Hey, Luke! Suck it up! You’re training to be a Jedi! Do you hear Marines crying, ‘Hey, that’s mine!’? No, you don’t. So, suck it up, Jedi. Get one with The Force and then go kick some Empire butt!”

Sadly, while Empire really doesn’t completely depend on Hope, it ends with such a cliff-hanger that they really should have warned us that we weren’t seeing the entire film.

Return of the Jedi: Talk about building to a conclusion! Man, this should have been the best of the lot—We’ve moved from fun and exciting, to dark and intriguing to… F’ing Ewoks? George, George, George… Is this during your Linda Ronstadt dating period?

Sadly, you can almost follow the story-board of ‘A New Hope’ in this film: the plot is the same (destroy the Death Star), it starts on Tatooine, we have the “crazy aliens” (the Cantina in Hope—Jaba the Hut’s gang in ‘Jedi’) and it goes on from there. They just added a little more to make it seem different. Leia is your sister (ugh), Yoda dies, deep down Darth really is a nice guy… (“There is good in you!” Oh, Luke, shut up), the whole thing just fell apart. It felt like a Hollywood studio-head came up with the concept: “Why don’t we go back to the beginning and just do it all again… but different! Heck, we can even blow up the Death Star again—we’ll just do it a little differently!"

But it was the f’ing Ewoks that ruined this for me. First, they didn’t blink. How creepy is that? Second, their lips kind of moved, but their faces really didn’t. Third, these little boxy little creatures could outwit and out-maneuver the Empire’s storm troopers? They brought down imperial walkers, not with lasers or blasters, but logs, rocks and some rope? Based on this logic, they should have just let a log float into the Death Star and it could have clogged the exhaust port. The Death Star: The Ford Pinto of Imperial Space Stations. I still don’t get how hundreds of storm troopers were killed by those things and only one f'ing Ewok died?

It makes you wonder about the choice of using Jango Fett as the model for the clones: Those troopers seemed to fall at the drop of a stick… (Did you notice that when someone is shooting at them with lasers, they shoot back—but if little furry things are throwing rocks at them they put their hands up to block the rocks… the storm troopers were wearing armor, right?)

The Darth Side blog put it best when discussing the f’ing Ewoks: "Have you tried one of these Ewoks, m'lord?" asked Admiral Piett, offering me a crisp kebab. "Delectable!"

The Phantom Menace: When the opening credits drone on so long that one begins to fall asleep, you know you’re in trouble. Is it my imagination, or did the scrawl contain the current prime interest rate set by the Republic, because I swear it was running at an astounding 18.4%…

Why George felt compelled to answer every freakin’ question anyone could ever ask about Darth Vader and his beginnings is beyond me. Throw-away lines from ‘Hope’ took up way too much screen time (“He was the greatest pilot anyone had ever seen” became the intolerable pod race). Why didn’t anyone tell George he could leave some things unanswered? A little mystery would have done us good. A significantly shorter running time certainly would have done my tired ass some good as well.

You would think after the amount of attention that Darth Vader collected, that George would understand the power of the bad guy… so he created, what appeared to be his most compelling and mysterious character: Darth Maul. He was cool, badass, totally tattooed and had an awesome double light saber!

Maul got about a minute of screen time and then he split… literally. WTF? When Darth Sidious found Anakin, you know he seriously lucked out, because his previous apprentices sucked ass. Look at how inept Count Dooku was in Clones… The Emperor couldn’t be that stupid—so it must be George.

Attack of The Clones: I gotta admit, I think I slept through a lot of this. I was so confused… or maybe I just stopped caring, but this movie was just freakin’ dull. George can do so much with technology, but just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you must do it. Jango Fett dies in a quick and stupid manner, kind of the way that Darth Maul disappeared in Phantom. The center of the film is the completely bland Hayden Christenson, who is perhaps the worst actor ever. He brought absolutely nothing to this role. Who knew Darth Vader was such a dull guy?

Oh, and another thing: Count Dooku? WTF? George, that’s the best you can do for a name? Something that sounds like someone crapped in their pants? “Do you occasionally count dooku? You’re not alone and now, Depends for count dooku is available at all finer pharmacies and grocers…” I think none of the Star Wars characters would have gone bad if they’d had a good name. Palpatine, Dooku, you just know they were teased in the locker room in high school. “Hey, Dooku, you lookin’ at my ‘palpatine’?” [and then they snap a towel at Dookus butt and high five each other while Palpatine cowers in a corner plotting: “I’ll get them all for mocking me and my abnormally small palpatine… damnit!”]

I saw this film once and that was more than enough for me. Mind you, I saw every one of the original trilogy dozens of times—that’s including the one with the f’ing Ewoks.

Revenge of the Sith: Heaven help me, but I liked this film. Its sole job was to wrap up the complete confusion from the first two disasters and to Luke, Lea & Han, and I think it did it well. It felt so much like we were moving home—towards “Hope.” It certainly isn’t a great film, but I liked it more than “Jedi” (no Ewoks, immediately put points in Sith’s corner. I must admit, I enjoyed the detail of the production design more than f/x. All the ships, the interiors, the costumes were one-generation off of what we’ll see in ‘Hope.’ It made it seem, well… real (for lack of a better word). I could almost taste the joy of the original and that made it worthwhile.

Sure, it still suffered the blandness of Hayden (when that kid stood up in the Darth Vader costume, it so reminded me of Rick Moranis’ Darth Helmet in Space Balls. That helmet looked out of proportion—I don’t think one should laugh at Darth Vader—Hayden, even hidden from view, still can’t measure up…) I’ve seen pieces of paper with more personality of this kid. Before you try and defend him with his performance in “My Life as a House,” there are a number of actors who hit it once brilliantly and then forever either played the same role again, or couldn’t measure up (Sandy Dennis’* 1964 Tony winning role in “Any Wednesday” is a classic example. She did the same thing again in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf,” up until “The Four Seasons” in 1981**, she gave the same damn performance).

The film also suffers from trying to answer all the questions and wrapping everything up tightly. I guess absolutely nothing happened in the Empire between Luke’s birth and the time that the droids land on Tatooine.

The one great success of Revenge of the Sith is that it made me want to watch Star Wars again. And for that both the Force and I are with George.




*Jeez, talk about a reference NO ONE will get… I really pulled that one out of my ass. Should I have chosen Juliette Lewis and every movie she’s ever been in? Whatever. Sandy Dennis and “Any Wednesday” are comedy gold, I tell ya. I’m sure you laughed even though you had no idea what I was talking about. Didn’t you? You know you did…

**I made it a point to avoid Sandy Dennis movies after that… so did the rest of the world. Sadly, she died a few years ago. What is most ironic is that while she performed the same role again and again, she was the only one who could really do it well.***

***I am SO talking out of my ass right now…

Paris Hilton is in My Bedroom… Why Won’t She Leave?

As much as I loathe Paris Hilton, I not only purchased that sleazy “One Night in Paris” DVD of her and her boyfriend, I watched it…

My 17 year-old nephew asked for the scuzbag’s DVD for his high school graduation. Wanting to be the “cool uncle,” I bought it. Then, when graduation day arrived, I did not want his grandparents (my parents) to see him opening this. I can only imagine my mother announcing to all that could hear how embarrassed she was and how horrible I was--meanwhile, my nephew would be locked away in his room with a wetnap rubbing one out...

However, he’s 18 in July, so no one can say a word at that point, so I decided to wait until then. I mention this The Nephew and his mother at graduation, to which his incredibly conservative mother replies, “Heck, give it to him now, I don’t care.” My nephew practically went into convulsions as his head was bobbing up and down in a frantic “Yes! Yes!” motion.

Regardless, I’m waiting until his birthday—I don’t want to be the “perverted uncle” giving my nephew whack-off material. Granted, when he was 13, his dad bought him the Playboy magazine with Barbara Carrera* in it. However, my brother can be the “creepy perverted father buying porn for his underage son,” but I’m staying out of it. Call me crazy, but I don’t want to think of my nephew flogging the log. I guess it’s the conservative streak in me, I’m just that way…

As a result, Paris Hilton is in my bedroom. I guess it would be rude not to offer her something… the only thing she would want is more exposure—and naturally that would be for me to screen the DVD. Plus—as if I needed an actual excuse to view the DVD—it’s going to be about a month before I can give it to my nephew and there is the warranty to think about. I don't want his first experience with porn to be attempting to return it when he hasn't had the thrill/embarrassment of buying it for the first time. So, I sat down and watched Paris at night...

Oh my f’ing lord…

Each “segment” is introduced by sleazebucket and former Paris Hilton boyfriend what'shisname. Who knows and who cares who this guy is? Actually, his name is Rick Soloman... however, I call him "Dick." Somebody wrote Dick a bit of lame script which he uses to introduce each segment and then we’re shown Paris in all her glory. It's strange to feel dirty and shamed at watching the introduction rather than watching the porn portion...

Let’s just say that there is nothing really new in here. It’s the same old stuff one would normally see if one were to watch straight porn. Me being a card-carrying homo, I don’t normally watch this stuff, so it was somewhat new to me. She poses, she coos, she sucks, she gets banged, she answers her cell phone while getting banged... just an afternoon after church, if you ask me.

What wasn’t the usual stuff was the plentiful shots of this dude’s dong. My gosh, he loves that thing! He has long, graceful shots of "It" all alone—no Paris to be found. Granted, it is quite lovely, but I thought this was about Paris? I got the impression that this was really, “All About My Big Donger… with guest appearance by Paris Hilton!”

You really won't see Paris sucking his dork, as you will see Dick's Dork getting sucked by Paris Hilton. He wasn’t fucking Paris, Paris just happened to be there when his schlong was a-fuckin’.

I guess they broke up on their second date, because there is not a whole lot of footage here, folks. The video sleazebags that distributed this embarrassment felt the need to attach “additional hardcore footage,” which was nothing more than leftover scenes from other videos. Some girl getting rammed by some guy we never see (I will say, straight porn has improved in that the guys have pretty good bods and HUGE dicks—maybe Dick will be able to have a job other than busboy at The Olive Garden, after all!)

The whole thing left me feeling dirty and shameful. Not for buying it, not for watching it, but for having it in my home. My bedroom is a sacred place, filled with only the finest in gay porn videos and magazines. Why would I sully such a place with the rancid world of Paris Hilton and straight porn?

Scummy uncle or not, I’m giving this to my nephew ASAP—I have a reputation as a homo-perv to maintain and Paris Hilton is only going to bring my reputation down.

I just hope the fact that Paris Hilton is in his house does not bring down the property values of my brother's neighborhood.



*The Nephew is a HUGE James Bond fan… and then became a Barbara Carrera fan. Me, I’m a HUGE Pierce Brosnan fan—not the actor, the half-naked man. Me likey…

Movies 2004

I haven’t posted anything in a while, and I’m feeling rather dry, creatively speaking. So, I’m scrapping the bottom of the barrel with this posting…

With the release of Star Wars III (or 6 depending on your perspective), the summer movie season has officially begun. I now look back over the past year at the movies I liked, wished I hadn’t wasted the money on, and those that have moved to my Netflix list…

The lists are in alphabetical order, because with films like The Aviator and Team America: World Police on the same list—how do you put one above the other?

My 2004 Favorites:
The Aviator—I would have liked this film so much more if it had been about 40 minutes shorter. My ass really hurt at the end of this… Leonardo (who I can’t stand in the least) did a great job and almost made me like him. Cate Blanchete earned a well-deserved Oscar for her role as Katherine Hepburn.
Being Julia—Annette Bening was absolutely brilliant in this role. I spent the last 15 minutes just beaming at how deliciously evil and upstaging her character was.
Fahrenheit 9/11—How could Americans watch this film and still vote for Bush? Michael Moore at his best.
Finding Neverland—Johnny Depp’s range continues to astound me. He’s brilliant in everything and Neverland was no exception. The film is charming (and I don’t use that term lightly or often) and I could barely see the final 10 minutes through my tears.
Friday Night Lights—Yet another reason to be glad not to live in Texas. These kids’ lives peak at 17… Peter Berg did an excellent job adapting H.G. Bissinger's book.
Garden State—Excellent directorial debut by Zach Braff.
Good Bye Lenin!—I think I want to use the word ‘charming’ again…
Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle—A movie that has ‘Doogie Howser’ leaving “Love stains” in the backseat, someone ‘marrying’ a giant bag of pot, and a guy riding a cheetah all while in search of White Castle burgers is great in my book.
In Good Company—Charm… no, not that. But I enjoyed it. I guess I’m getting old when I enjoy films where the older guy beats up the up ‘n comer…
Kill Bill Vol. 1 & Vol. 2—Kicks ASS! (Both literally and figuratively.)
Kinsey—A movie where Liam Neeson bangs Peter Sarsgaard is tops in my book (plus, it’s fascinating how far we’ve come and how stupid we are today).
Million Dollar Baby—Clint Eastwood and Morgan Freeman give such sublime performances it’s a joy to watch. Hilary Swank won an Oscar for a performance that really didn’t deserve it (I’m still bitter Annette lost to Hilary TWICE!)
Saved!—Great until the end (why must they all fall apart at the end?) Best line: Mandy Moore throwing the bible at Mary, shouting, “I am FILLED with Christ's love!”
Shaun of the Dead—Zombies and slackers, baby. Zombies and slackers…
Sideways—My favorite film of the year. Brilliant all the way around: great writing, directing, and acting. Paul Giamatti not only deserved a nomination, he deserved to win.
Sin City—I went into this film not knowing what to expect and I really enjoyed it. Visually stunning.
Sponge Bob Square Pants Movie—“Who lives in a Pineapple under the sea?!” Fun from beginning to end. I laughed through the whole thing
Super Size Me—I’ll never eat at McDonald’s again… (I still crave me some Big Macs, but I don’t think I can do it…)
Team America: World Police—Marionette sex? Genius! I can’t wait for the DVD and all the extra footage they couldn’t show in theatres. Parker and Stone are the masters at offensive writing… I think that’s why I love them so.
Touch of Pink—Damn… I’m forced to use the word charming again. Great performances throughout and an unconventional story.

Craptacular Disasters:
Anchorman—How I wanted to enjoy this film, but it was just so flat. Great Concept/Shitty Film (Steve Carell had some great moments, as did Will Ferrell, but on the whole it was weak).
Connie & Carla—WTF? From Big Fat Greek Wedding to something we’ve seen way too many times? This could have been a terrific and fun film, but they went with Comedy Formula #147a*…
Day After Tomorrow—Dennis Quaid was in it… and that’s where the enjoyment ends.
Dodgeball—Such potential… however, they went with Comedy Formula #39**. Fun concept and great casting does not make a great film. You need writers for that…
The Dreamers—Tell me we have gone to the 60’s well for the last time…? That well is so dry. I’m not sure what was so shocking as there was nothing we haven't seen before... done better.
The Grudge—Huh? What was scary? That creepy kid? Sure, he was creepy, as was that floating lady, but it wasn’t enough to cause anyone to become catatonic… Big letdown.
I, Robot—It, suck.
The Incredibles—Incredible? Not so much. It was okay, but certainly not incredible…
Ladder 49—Nothing new here. We saw snippets of a guy’s life over 10 years, but we never got to know him. Watch any episode of Dennis Leary’s Rescue Me and you’ve seen something much better.
Latter Days—Great film until the ‘student film’ ending. Completely ruined it for me. Whatever happened to originality?
Manchurian Candidate—The original was flawless--this crappy remake is full of flaws. Why can't they remake the shitty films and save the classics from being ruined?! WHY?!
Meet the Fockers—If we can find out what was successful in the first film and load up the sequel with that it’s got to be good, right? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. And yet, America went to this movie again and again. Never underestimate the stupidity of the public (I think they all voted for Bush… which is exactly my point).
National Treasure—Besides starring the awful Nicholas Cage, the final action sequence was so dull and lackluster that I kept waiting for the ‘big finish’. Dull…
Passion of the Christ—The film about the son of God, who changed the world with his message of love and compassion, shows none of His message, but only how he died. Beautiful cinematography, but missed the point. (Unless the point was “Jews are bad,” then I guess Mel “Anti-Semite” Gibson did as he intended).
The Stepford Wives—Such potential… such drivel. Disappointed!
The Village—Will someone please stop giving this guy money to make these awful movies? The Sixth Sense was wonderful… everything else was crap, crap, crap. ENOUGH!
The Wedding Date—Load of shit from the moment ‘go.’ I think they lopped off the first 20 minutes as unnecessary… they should have lopped off the rest while they were at it and called it a day…

Thank God for Netflix… How could I have missed these?
50 First Dates—Drew and Adam… love them.
Bad Education—A Pedro Almodóvar film starring Gael García Bernal, how could I have missed this?
Cellular—Chris Evans spends the first 20 minutes of the film without his shirt? I’m still kicking myself for missing this.
Coffee and Cigarettes—Heard mixed things…
Dear Frankie—I cried during the trailer… when did this come out?
De-Lovely—I’m not sure where I was for this.
Diary of a Mad Black Woman—this had disaster written all over it and I wanted to be there to see it unfold. What is up with Tyler Perry? I only saw the trailer and thought, "Christ, that guy has some ego..."
Fever Pitch—Maybe I don't like Drew so much... I missed this, too. I like me some Jimmy, though...
Hidalgo—Mmmmmm, Viggo.
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy—Where did it go? I swear it was here a minute ago…
Lost Skeleton of Cadavra—Did this even get released? I loved the trailer.
Millions—Again, I got teary during the trailer. "It's not suspicious... it's unusual." Love those British kids, they're so amusing.
Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous—Another film that looked disastrous, yet I wanted to see it.
The Motorcycle Diaries—I kept hearing mixed things… but Gael García Bernal was in it—I should have gone. Vive Che!
Open Water—The trailer scared the crap out of me, I think I need to see this on DVD so I can fast forward when I get all squirmy and girlish. (yeah, yeah, which is all the time... I know...)
The Polar Express—Loved the book… I wanted to see this at IMAX—I think I’m too late for that.
Riding Giants—I have a porn with the same name…
The Sea Inside—Looks heart-wrenching.
Shaolin Soccer—Looks awesome… this zipped in and out of theatres fast.
Spanglish—I heard very mixed things on this. I love James L. Brooks, Adam Sandler and Tea Leoni…
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring—I heard great things, but it sounds way too long.
The Whore—I know nothing about this film, I just stumbled across the title—I believe this is my kind of movie!
Win A Date With Tad Hamilton!— Josh Duhamel is the only reason I watch Las Vegas, and yet I missed a chance to see him shirtless! Oh, hurry, Netflix, hurry!
The Woodsman—I couldn’t bring myself to go see a film where a pedophile comes off as a sympathetic character. I think I'll feel even dirtier watching it alone at home...


*Comedy Formula #147: Two friends witness a murder and must leave town and disguise themselves as:
CF #147a: Nuns
CF #147b: Another sex
CF #147c: 180 degrees opposite to who they are (crooks = gay pageant show consultants, etc.)

** Comedy Formula #39: Group is threatened by real estate mogul/competition with eviction if they can’t come up with money to pay off loan/mortgage. They enter a contest that pays the EXACT amount of the loan/mortgage. In the end, they succeed, which causes the downfall of the real estate mogul/competition. (Reference: see just about any teen movie from the 1980’s http://www.crossfilms.com/films/eightiesending.html).

Family Drives

My sister and I have been on the East Coast for a week. We've worked our way from Rhode Island through Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Maryland and we are now in DC.

The countryside is beautiful... driving with family is not.

My sister drives like an old woman. "We're in a rental car so I need to be careful," she keeps saying as she drives the exact speed limit. "No," I counter, "that's why you don't have to be careful--it's a freakin' rental!"

We are both trying very hard to be 'respectful' of the other, so when things get tense (and man, do they get tense) I tend to stop talking, for fear that I will say something that will start an even bigger argument--or that I'll just 'go off' in general and start screaming like a madman. Needless, to say, I haven't been saying much as of these last few days.

Our vacation ends tomorrow and I have never been so glad for a vacation to end. We haven't had any real apart time--except for my evening in Boston, which was the second day we were there, so that's worn off. (I'll tell you more of my gay-bar experience in Boston later...). So, we've been together pretty much 24/7 for the last 5 days. WAY too close for me.

There are things one normally ignores of a loved one: stupid phrasing, inane comments, body odors, etc. Usually, they aren't noticeable, or are negligible to say the least--however, now every other utterance from her mouth is something I want to beat her over the head with something blunt. How many times can someone say "It's all good"? I mean, really, would any jury convict me? No court I know...

So the journey comes to an end and even though we live together, I don't think we will see each other for the next three months. Unless a really good travel offer comes up and then it's another family road trip... God help us all.

Where There’s a Will I Want to Be in it, Not Writing It

So, I finished my will last night. Or is it my last will and testament night? Actually, it’s more like a last will, testament, and ‘comedy stylings’ of Chris. I found it hard to be serious throughout. While I did get a little misty when I was thanking my parents for their kindness and my friends for being supportive, however, when it came to giving my stuff away, how do I know if anyone is going to want my junk?

About a year ago, there was a fire in the building behind our place, and my sister and I rushed into our place to take our “valuables.” I ran into my room and looked around frantically… I tried to calm myself down because I thought I was too frazzled to focus enough to actually lock on to something to save. Then I realized that I don’t own anything of value.

Sure, there are many things of sentimental value and lots of “ironic” items, but nothing that can’t be replaced—or one would need to have replaced. I will say the porn represents a significant investment on my part, but I wouldn’t call it value. And who am I leaving that to? My Republican family? “To my mother, I leave my love and good wishes and my DVD of ‘How the West was Hung’.”

So, last night I started looking at crap that means something to me, but on the whole, means nothing to anyone else. I got done and was rather proud of myself that I disseminated all my property. This morning I realized I didn’t mention my CDs or my (non porn) DVDs. There’s a ton of them and I missed them and concentrated on such valuables as framed “art” I printed off the internet…

It’s sad to think that your legacy is porn, crappy art, and 150 Simpsons action figures, a Heinz Ketchup phone, a glow-in-the-dark Madonna, and a collection of obscenely anatomically-correct dolls with names like Carlos and Tyson (guess which one is black?)

However, my biggest concern at this moment is mourners. Frankly, I don’t think there will be enough of them. I want a packed house, but I don’t know if anyone would show up. I don’t have that many friends… and of those that I do have, most will flake. I can just picture Julie saying she had a sore throat… I don’t think I could make that many friends in the next 17 hours, so I just hope those friends that show bring a friend or co-worker along to the funeral. I'm sure my parents will throw a nice reception with lots of food, is that enough of an incentive to go?

Speaking of… I want tears at the funeral. Fake it if you have to, people, but I demand tears! Sobbing would also be appreciated. I request that Scott McCandless shout out “Not Chris! Not Chris!” at some point—he mocked me when I ‘came out,’ saying, “Not you! Not you!” in his most dramatic fashion. Fag. This is your penance buddy (you get 50% of my porn, so you’d better be convincing…)

Other than that, I mainly fear my friends will embarrass me at my funeral: they won’t show up: “Dude, I had a thing…” or when it comes time to say something about me nobody will get up and say anything… or worse they will: “He had the biggest collection of porn…” or “I think he thought he was funnier than he was—maybe it’s best he went before life could crush his dreams completely…” or worst of all, “Christ, he was fat, wasn’t he?” and then it turns into a roast and my ashes are spinning…

I just realized I forgot to mention my TiVo in my will! It’s got a lifetime subscription and that’s worth bucks… man, I had better survive this trip okay, because I’ve still got work to do on my will…

Flappin’ My Wings…

So, I worked on my will the other day… I’m going on a trip with my sister—my current will leaves everything to her—well, instructions on who to give it to and if the plane goes down, no one will know what to do... or to get to "that drawer" before my parents—so, I have to think “worst case scenario” on things like this.

I always watch for accidents around the time I fly. I figure if there was an air crash right before my trip, I feel better, since I feel the air has been pre-jinxed. There has got to be only so many crashes out there—lurking about, waiting to happen—I figure if it happens to someone else, then the chances of it also happening to me are significantly less.

The skies have been eerily calm lately.

Could it be that safety has gone up? Maybe because so many companies are about to go belly up, they just aren’t flying. Personally, I think the Air Crash Deity is looking for me. In 1990, I was on a plane to New York and we got diverted because just before we landed another plane crashed onto the runway. Two weeks before I was to go to Europe, four planes were hijacked, two flew into the World Trade Center, one into The Pentagon and the last into a field in Pennsylvania. Are they after me? Am I being paranoid? You be the judge… You’ve probably been talking about this already, haven’t you? Haven’t you?!



So, as the date of my trip draws ever closer, the chances of a crash increases with each flight.

I’m almost resigning myself to the fact that the plane is going to go down (and not in a good ‘porn kind of way’ – wacka-chicka-wacka-chicka-bow-wow). I’ll be the only one not screaming and crying… I’ll be sitting there pissed off. “Damnit!” I’ll cry out, “I really should have taken the time to watch TV more…” (Okay, I think I’ve spent more than enough time doing that… but I’ll be pissed none-the-less.)

I’ll probably be cursing God for letting Osama bin Laden, Sadam Hussein and KIM Jong Il live, and I—a lowly schmuck with a penchant for television—dies in a firey crash. I’d pop God a good one, if I could actually get into heaven.

I’m hoping it’s a terrorist over a malfunction. I can at least “play” with the terrorists. I figure they're going to kill us all anyhow, I might as well make it miserable for them too: “You know, that’s a type-o in the Koran. It actually says you get 70 minutes on your cell phone—not 70 virgins… the cruel joke of it all is you’re out of your calling zone in Heaven, so you still have to pay roaming fees. What? Why am I an infidel for telling you the truth?”

I have this sick feeling that I’ll be right… and that God will be on the Verizon Friends and Family program and I’ve got a freakin’ Catherine Zeta-Jones (Douglas) T-Mobile. Damn you, CellularOne!

Since I probably have not earned enough “good” credits to get into Heaven, I’ll have to count on my “Get out of Hell Free” card, which means I’ll probably end up in purgatory. I hear purgatory has improved immensely now that they have a Starbucks…*



*three, actually.

Don’t Kill the Joke Teller…

As you may have read, I’m going on vacation next week. Yes, I’m traveling close to the Evil Empire, the Red-Controlled Washington, DC.

So, I sent an email to my bosses, reminding them that I was going to be away for a week. As a side-note/joke I said, “…in fact, one week from my sending this letter I should be at a Red Sox game… or in a bar. Either way it’s a win/win situation.”

My one boss that actually is a Red Sox fan said nothing. No comment, no “lucky you,” nothing.

The rest, apparently, are rabid Yankees fans.

I’m practically getting hate mail! “You like the SOX?! You SUCK!” was the nicest of the replies. They walk into my office, look at me with disgust and leave without saying a word. None of that is unusual, except usually they look at me with disgust and say, “hello.”

Two others think I’m an alcoholic. “What bar,” one asked incredulously.

“I dunno.”

“So,” he said, pausing to choose his words carefully, “you just hang out in bars?”

“No… it was a joke.”

“You don’t go to bars… at all?” Okay, now he was incredulous. I mean really incredulous.*

“No… I go to bars, just not a lot. I was joking.”

“You think drinking makes you cool?” He said, suddenly becoming my father.

I decided to tell the truth, “Look,” I leaned forward so he knew I was serious, “I’m not a looker, so I need all the help I can get. If finding a drunk hottie in a bar is the only way I’m getting some, then I’m getting some… so back the F’ off!”

“Oh,” he said, feeling guilty and embarrassed. He briefly apologized and scampered** from the room.

Now, normally, one wouldn’t react to my previous comment in such a way, so I can only assume that the words I spoke were slightly different from what I just wrote. I think they were along the lines of “I’m an alcoholic—and rather than say I was going back for the national AA convention, I say I’m in a bar and everything thinks ‘how fun.’ I’m just trying to salvage my dignity… one. day. at. a. time.”

Yeah, I’m gonna burn. I know it.


*Man, I’m so glad I had looked up that word this morning… it’s really come in handy.
** I like 'scampered,' too. Although, I did not need to look it up.
*** Uh, there is no asterisk in the text for this, but I do want to note that I AM definitely copying the asterisks motif so brilliantly achieved by An Intern In New York (his blog ended last week and this is my tribute/plagiarism of his work. God Speed, Intern Andy!

I'm Going To Have To Spend The Whole Week With Her?

My sister and I are going back East for a week trip to do a little family history search (her passion, not mine) but I’m going along because… well, I’ve got nothing better to do. I could go to work, but really—I do that everyday and it’s not like it gets me laid or anything.

Actually, it did. But that’s another story for another time.

Anywho… my sister has not been on a vacation in forever. She used to travel a lot, but now only does the occasional day trip or weekend trip to The Crosby, Tahoe, LA, etc. This will be her first real vacation in a long time and she is very excited about it. Very excited.

So excited, in fact that she constantly talks about it. “Just think,” she said Saturday morning, “in a week, we’ll be flying…” In church on Sunday (yes, I go to church… yet another story…), she leaned over and said, “In a week we’ll be at mass at Victor’s church.”*

She’s even started packing! The dining room table is now covered with her underwear (she’s 45 guys, don’t get excited… it ain’t pretty) and toiletries. We leave on Saturday, so I’ll probably start packing on Friday night… or Saturday, if our plane leaves after noon. I’m not sure what time we leave… which leads me to my next ‘problem’:

She’s highly organized.

My sister keeps everything from the trip in a file—hotel reservations, flight information, car rental, maps, ideas, etc. It’s astounding. However, she thinks everyone does this. We received an invitation to go to a party and she looked at me and asked, “Do you want to put this in your file?”

“My file?” I asked.

“Yes, your file folder with all the trip details.”

“Uh… no. I’m good.”

“You have a file, don’t you?” She asked this in the same way my mother asks questions—pretty much giving you a direction in which she expects you to answer. (My mother often asks questions this way, as it saves a lot of time, because you don’t have to think, you just answer based on the cues in the question: “You’re not gay, are you?” [“not” + “gay” = answer: ‘no’] “You’re not a Democrat, are you?” [“not” + + Democrat” = answer: ‘of course not.’] My mother has since learned to live with disappointment—however, I will say she cried more when I told her I was a Democrat than when I told her I was gay… “You’re not going to vote Democrat, are you?” [“not” + “vote Democrat” = my mother in tears).

Back to the conversation:

“No… I don’t have a file,” I confessed. For a moment, I thought she was going to cry. She stayed very quiet for a moment. “I just figured,” I said desperately pulling something—anything—out of my ass, “that you being so organized, it would just be duplication of work.” She smiled. I’m sure she knew I was full of it, but I was appealing to her sense of organization…

“Okay, I’ll put it in my file.” She started to walk away and I thought I was in the clear, until she turned back and said, “you really should have your own file, to keep all of the things you want to do organized.”

We’re going on this trip together—we are stuck together the whole time. The only time I have some time to myself is Monday night in Boston. I’m going to try to get into a Red Sox game (good luck), or I’m going to hang out in a gay bar.

Guess which way I’m leaning.

“Hey, Alix! In a week I might be sodomizing a Red Sox fan! Should I put a condom and lube in my file?”

It’s going to be an interesting week.



*Long-dead great uncle that was a Monk at Portsmith Priory.

I Really Need To Read the Fine Print

So, a month or so ago, I signed up at sitemeter.com for a site meter for this site. I wanted to see if anyone was reading my blogs. I gave them my information and waited for the numbers to start clicking.

The first day, I got an email excitedly claiming it had my results for the day. ZERO readers. The same thing happend for day two... and day three... and day four... crap. Silly as it was, I decided to keep writing--why? I'm a glutton for punishment.

As the weeks went by and nobody read anything and no comments were made, I felt pretty good about saying anything I wanted. I almost described a rather unfortunate tryst a few weeks back (it was beyond awful and humiliating. In fact, it might have made a few people ill--I was the 'pretty one'--that's how bad it was).

So, a friend sent a note this morning that he had read something on my site... HURRAY! I can go to sitemeter and it will say 1. Glorious, glorious one!

F'ing Zero.

So, I went to site meter to see what their problem was. They had all the information. I gave it to them, they were sending me reports, everything was set, right?

Wrong.

I didn't read the fine print that was boldly (and repeatedly) noted on the emails they sent as well as the website, that I had to add three pieces of information to link it up.

I quickly added the information and submitted the information. I got an error. In fact, I kept getting errors. All they wanted were three things: My my login, password, and blog number ("http://www.yadayada.blogspot.yada/yada/yada/######" is how they noted it. Note the number in bold.), . And yet, I kept getting error messages. After the sixth attempt, I read their explanation again and realized that I was putting in the entire address, not the number.

Hopefully, it's all okay now.

However, if you don't see a number somewhere on the page, then I've skipped something else. And at this point, I couldn't give a crap...

Happy Anniversary, Your Son’s A Pervert!

So, my sister and I had my parents over for dinner to celebrate their 49th wedding anniversary. We made some lovely hors d’oeuvres and had a nice dinner. As we were sitting around talking, the subject of a trip my sister and I are taking back East came up.

We talked about a bunch of different things and then my mother mentioned our wills. Just because she is in her 70’s she thinks that everyone is thinking about death. However, she pointed out there are stocks and other items to be distributed, which made me think of what would happen if I were to die suddenly and they were to have to go through my room.

Now, my sister knows where to go if I were to die: The Drawer. The Drawer is that one special place that everyone has in their home where you don’t want anyone to know what’s in there. It’s usually personal devices of some type or another—vibrators, if I may be so bold. My Drawer is actually several drawers (and trunks, and those plastic bins under the bed—all containing various types of sweet, sweet porn. There are videos, magazines, DVD’s and CD’s (don’t ask) all containing massive amounts of hot man-on-man action.

I once tried to figure out how much I’d spent on porn throughout the years and stopped when I was looking at one of my trunks-O-porn full of video tapes—none of them costing less than $50—such a huge expense; so many happy times…

So, I mentioned to my mother that should my sister and I die on the trip, that she is not to go into my room until I’ve had several friends go through it first. “Why?” I wanted to mention The Drawer that she must have had (everyone has one, certainly she would too, right?) Then I realized she didn’t have one. In fact, it would never occur to her that anyone would have him—especially her own children. Those drawers were for perverts [cut to a shot of a marquee in large lights: “Pervert! Starring Chris”]

Regretfully, I pressed forward, “There are certain things that I don’t want my nieces and nephews rummaging through my room for…”

“You don’t mean… pornography?” She spewed the word ‘pornography’ like it was an arachnid culinary selection from Fear Factor.

“Yep.”

“Christopher!” She only shouted “Christopher!” when she was shocked at my behavior or beliefs. She says “Christopher!” a lot… My dad usually just sits there—not wanting to comment, because that would continue a conversation he doesn’t want to have. My father doesn’t say a lot to me.

“It’s not like it’s a ton…” I lied, “but, I don’t want the kids rummaging through and finding that stuff.”

“They can find it now…?”

“It’s well hidden… but once you start digging…”

“Oh, my God…” she said with her head buried in her hands.

The subject changed, we moved on to other things and my father began to speak again. I just hoped my mother had stopped thinking about my vast (and by vast, I do mean infinite) collection of hot, beautiful gay porn.

After dinner, we were sitting around and I was talking about an old friend of mine. “So I Googled Yves the other day…”

“What?!”

“I Googled Yves… Zsutty.”

“Christopher!”

“What…?” I asked fully knowing her mind was now back on my immeasurable collection of pornography

“I Google all the time…” adding just the perfect light-sleaziness to Google.

Her head was buried in her hands, but I swear I could hear her muttering “Oh, my God” over and over. My father was completely silent. I’m not sure if he was holding his breath or not, but there was no movement whatsoever.

“Mom, EVERYBODY Googles… Alix Googles. I know Vicki and John Google all the time.”

“But their married…”

Getting ready to trap her dirty little mind, I questioned her, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, married people… I mean… you know.”

“Mom, what do you think Google means?”

[blank stare]

At this point my sister walks out and can immediately sense something is up. “What did he say, now?” pointing at me, as if it were all my fault.

I smiled, “We were just discussing Googling…”

My sister smiled, relieved I was not talking about my porn collection and sat down. “Mom thinks it’s some thing dirty…”

“Christopher!”

“You do! You keep acting like it's something awful when it’s only a search engine on the internet."

"What's a search engine?"

"It helps you find people and things on the internet.."

"Oh... 0-0-0hhhh," she sighed as the color came back into her face.

I looked at my father, who appeared to be breathing again and was smiling as he ate his spinach salad. My father muttered “internet” a couple of times and stayed very interested in the salad.

My mother just sat there for a second and then looked at me and in a serious tone said, “You really need to make sure you have your wills before your trip…”

Apparently, the subject was now officially dropped and we were moving back over familiar, and hopefully, non-threatening territory.

I love family dinners.

Are you bored, or is it just me...?

So, I’m bored at work… well, actually it’s after work, but I’m so bored, I don’t want to go home. It’s a little boring there, too.

So, I’m sitting at work, perusing the internet and looking at fun stuff. However, I am not looking at porn. Don’t get me wrong, I’d like to look at porn—love to, in fact—I just know the second something dirty, dirty, oh-I-love-it-it’s-so-very-dirty porn shows up on the screen, someone would enter my office.

Did I tell you about the time a friend made a comment about liking and wearing those way-too-skimpy-shows-too-much-of-your-bulge-briefs I hate/love so much, I went online to look for some too-brief-briefs pictures to send him as a joke… I get distracted with work, when an hour or so later, The Short One comes in and asks a question about some link on the internet. I click on open page and there are bulges as far as the eye could see! I just sat there for a second in confusion and awe (some of those packages were huge--HUGE, I tell you! My GAWD, you could tell their religion).

Well, TSO got all flustered and I said, “You know, there’s a reason, a good reason… but let’s move on, shall we?” TSO just hemmed and hawed and we looked at the stuff he wanted to see and he quickly scuttled out of my office. Not a fun site watching TSO—or anyone for that matter—scuttle away… nope. Not a fun site at all. In fact, I’m against scuttling altogether. I’m a member of a fast-growing anti-scuttling movement known as “The Fast-Growing Anti-Scuttling Movement.” But that’s another story and I don’t want to bore you…

Truthfully, I don't really mind boring you (I think I'm quite good at it, actually). While I'm sure I am boring you, I’m also boring myself, and frankly, I’m also a card-carrying member of another fast-growing movement called “The Card-Carrying and Fast-Growing Anti-Bore Yourself Movement.” I should note, the ‘fast-growing’ is false, because we are shrinking rapidly because we’ve--literally--bored ourselves to death. You’d think our sister organization “The Fast-Growing-Anti-Anti-Bore Yourself to Death Movement” might have something to do with it, but they didn’t. They actually succeeded and bored themselves to death. Which is odd, because you'd think the double-negative would have some effect on that. I guess there's a lesson there, isn't there...?

Man… what was I talking about?

F’ it. I’m going home.

“My husbands an alcoholic…”

I went to dinner with my friend Scott (you know, the guy who’s birthday I forgot?) and we’re sitting outside of Starbucks, enjoying our after-dinner coffees and these guys walk by and make a comment to some woman sitting near us about being a smoker, too. She replies and in the space of a minute, they start chatting in a too familiar pattern. Nothing "saucy" but a little too much like they had somehow instantly become best friends because they both smoke.

Odd, but not too weird, right? Wrong. Very wrong. In less than two minutes, these strangers start to reveal to each other the most intimate of details. The one that caught my eavesdropping ear first was the title of this blog. Who just throws that out in conversation? Seriously, who? (Well… I guess those idiots would be the answer.)

Within five minutes the guy is offering her his manager discount at whatever store he works at ("because my boss totally trusts me..." stupid boss.) and she’s discussing her breast cancer operation and her mother’s various illnesses.

What struck me as the most odd, is that the guy, a perfect stranger to this woman not ten minutes earlier, begins to tell her EXACTLY where he lives. I mean, he gives directions to his place! He had commented about living near by and she said, “Oh, where?” and he tells her to "go out on Hamilton, Right on Leigh, past the school, but before Albertsons, to turn right" and then told her the address and apartment number. I wasn't sure if I missed something, so I looked to see if she was taking notes or something—she wasn’t. Was he just hoping she'd show up?

Smoker Woman: Hi!
Smoke Dude: Who...?
Smoker Woman: It's me! Smoker Chick!
Smoker Dude: Huh?
Smoker Woman: We met at Starbucks... you told me how to get to your house.
Smoker Dude: Oh... yeah
Smoker Woman: I figured you wanted to have sex.
Smoker Dude: Come on in!
[Cue porn music: wacka-chicka-wacka-chicka-bow-wow]

Maybe it’s me, but I try not to get that close to strangers. Heck, a number of my friends still have no idea where I work. I won’t even give my parents my address (that’s all I need is them showing up while I’m at home!)

People are very strange…

The Ultimate Birthday Present: Guilt Points!

I call my buddy Scott on Monday to ask him how his weekend went. We chat for about 30 minutes and hang up. Nice conversation, but not a whole lot said.

Tuesday. I call Scott to see if he wants to get dinner—for no reason in particular, other than I’m hungery—he declines. However, he suggests dinner on Thursday. It’s a date (so to speak).

Wednesday. Neither of us calls the other.

Thursday. In the early afternoon he calls to see if I remembered going out that night. Being the honest fellow I am, I said, “Oops! Thanks for reminding me!”

"Typical," he mumbles.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothin'..."

We chat for a while. Then I remember my great idea. I'm going to impress him. I'm going to make him think I'm giving him a very nice and 'very grown up' birthday present. I told him I wanted to throw a dinner party for his birthday. He said he’s busy this weekend and I said, “Well, I was thinking the 23rd, because that’s closer to your birthday…”

“Um, Chris. My birthday was Monday.”

“Oh... f-f-f-f-f-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-d-d-d-d-d-g-g-g-g-g-e-e-e!"

What a horrible, horrible friend I am. I couldn’t even get away with an “I was so busy, but I meant to call” lie. I spoke to him on the day… the VERY FREAKIN' DAY! Worse, I spoke to him the next day, where I might have recovered had my ADD not been skipping around in my head ('Don't forget it's Scott's... Let's ride bikes!') The kicker is that I forgot plans I had initiated two days earlier! I totally suck out loud.

Scott has banked enough Guilt Points to last a year. He no longer has to feel bad about bailing on plans, ignoring me when I'm talking to him so he can check out some hottie in flip-flops, or forgetting to pick me up at the airport.

I may have forgotten his birthday, but the benefits for him will last the whole freakin’ year.

Happy Birthday, Buddy! Enjoy the gift!

So Groucho Marx and Prince Rainier Go Into A Bar...

...and Elvis and the Pope are on stage singing kareoke together and a reporter is sitting there, but can't seem to understand that as fascinating as E&P are, other celebs have entered the bar...

Oh, you've heard this joke already? Sadly, it's no joke.

So, I'm looking through the San Jose Mercury News this morning... Front Page: The 40th anniversary of Moore's Law of semiconductor chips (3/4 of the front page), The Pope's funeral, and that's about it. No mention of Rainier.

Surely, the death of the leader of a nation, albeit a very tiny principality, deserves some mention, within the confines of a Pulitzer Prize winning newspaper... Nope. Not one mention of his passing.

After looking through the entire paper, I decided to check Wednesday's paper to see if, by chance, the information made it in time to be included. And there it was... on page 3. Ten tiny paragraphs contained in an 8"x 3" space. The online version contains a much longer piece, but still, freakin' page 3?

Meanwhile the Pope's funeral takes up a total of FOUR--count 'em FOUR--full pages. I'm a Catholic, and I mourn for the Pope--but you'd think that there is some other news out there as well. You know, like watching what evil the White House is spewing now...

(sigh...)

Not very funny today... not feeling' it. (Well, I've been feeling "it" all morning, but that's another story...)

He Said The Secret Word

Well, Ranier passed away today... and he's third on most websites headlines--actually, he's more of a side note. Headlines are still about the Pope, followed by the American soldiers killed in a helecopter crash in Afghanistan, followed by the byline (and awful picture) of Ranier. FOX "news" doesn't even mention him on the headlines page (but they do mention sharks feeding frenzy in Florida

On two websites, Peter Jennings' lung cancer revelation got mentioned above Ranier.

The man has definitely pulled a Groucho.

Adventures in Porn
[Warning!!! The links in this segment WILL send you to an adult site--so avoid if you are at work or are offended by such sites... but it you're reading this, you've long since thrown away good taste or discretion.]

I rented some porn about a month and half ago... I still have them. Thankfully, it's one of those Porn-Netflix sites, so I'm not charged. I should probably just by them--but I find the thought of paying $60 for porn outrageous. Of course, paying $29 a month to rent it is okay... go figure.

Anyhow, the first is Detention a wonderful film about a school where the late-20's looking high school students have no problem dropping trou and fooling around with the staff... who, oddly enough, also appear to be in their late 20's... go figure.

The star is Matt Summers (obvious porn name) I don't know who he is, but he's going places. He's just stunning... and what he can do with his mouth is even more so. He can deep throat some of the biggest schlongs I've ever seen. I'm talking Chad Hunt! He can deep throat that monster without gagging. In fact, he wants to go back for more.

Quite frankly, he's my hero.

The second film is called Ambassadors of the Ice. It's about a Hungarian ice hockey team. The production values are pretty spectacular, as they use an actual--and very well maintained--arena. As with all Kristen Bjorn directed films, the men are all incredibly handsome, well built and uncut.

Bjorn was a still/art photographer and has a great eye. His films are pretty amazing. I have some of his older films, and they are pretty amazing. Usually, the "money shot" is at the very end of the scene. Not with Kristen... there would be four, sometimes five (!) money shots in a scene. With very little continuity change and it was pretty obvious that it was the same guys... I'm not sure what they put in the water in Europe, but I like it.

Okay, enough perving for today...

Good Name

Just before I delete the hundreds of junk emails in the morning--my spaminator dumps them into a file--I was reviewing the list to make sure nothing got falsely dropped in. It's interesting how they try to get past the spam stoppers by changing "Slut" to "SIut" or "s1ut".

They are clever those spammers...

Usually the addresses are "Bob" or something that instantly tells me that I don't know the person. "Click Here" is the worst name ever.

However, as I was about to delete the 236 spam emails I got today, I noticed a new name: Zsa Zsa LaHore. Muy excellante! That is one terrific name. If I ever get into drag--and I'm pretty confident I'm not pretty enough for drag--Zsa Zsa LaHore will be my stage name.

Heck, I might use it anyway...

Pulling A Groucho

Groucho Marx, who went from an international comedian/movie star with his brothers to a huge success as a game show host, died in 1977. His career followed the golden age of Hollywood into the golden age of television. He was a truly remarkable man. Sadly, he is not remembered that well because he made one final, fatal mistake:

He died the same week as Elvis Presley.

All that history, all that joy was forgotten as the world mourned the passing of a rock 'n roll singer who died on the john...

Now, when someone of note passes at the same time as someone even more of note and gets eclipsed by the press in the process, it is called "pulling a Groucho."

Everyone knows that the Pope has entered his final moments. As a Catholic, I am truly saddened by this fact. Millions of Catholics and non-Catholics alike will mourn his passing. However, another Catholic in the tiny principality of Monaco their ruler since 1947 and the husband of international star Grace Kelly is also entering his final moments.

Prince Rainier, the man who doubled the size of his nation by building out into the Mediterranean and took his small 'gambling friendly' nation into an international banking capital, will most likely pass the same time as The Pontiff. Thus, his 81 years, his ruling of a nation, his changing of Europe and his note as a husband to a great American actress will be instantly passed by another ruler of sorts who also made great changes in the world.

Prince Rainier, ruler, architect, financial mastermind: you are about to pull a Groucho and I salute you!

Has No One Told Terri It’s Okay to Let Go?

Man, that Terri Schiavo is a fighter, isn’t she? I couldn’t last 20 minutes without something and she’s going on week 7 or something… (With such a personal and national tragedy as this, I could not resist being facetious). Seriously, it always works in the movies. The family sits next to the dying person and says, "It's okay... it's okay..." and then they drift off.

My sister-in-law—a Rabid Republican (foams at the mouth and loves Dubya)—thinks the government is right on in getting involved in her case. This is the same woman that was upset at the government for going after a company that knowingly put carcinogens into the ground water, then lied about it, then lied about lying about it, and then had doctors say that the carcinogens were “good” carcinogens, and then tried to underpay everyone. With that, she felt the government should stay out of our lives.

Yet when it comes to stopping gay marriage and keeping people on life-support systems, this is NOT government intruding on the rights of states or individuals. I’m not sure what planet she lives on, exactly, but it’s a planet with its head up its ass…

Who Crapped on My TV?

I know spring is the dumping season for movies that are never going to be competitive for an Oscar and aren’t decent enough to stand up against any competition with the summer blockbusters, but now spring has become a dumping ground for absolute crap on television.

Case in point: Spring Break Shark Attack on CBS. Just the title sounds like the whole film was thought up by a marketing committee: “Our research shows that people like sharks and they want to see scantily clad women—I’m thinking ‘Jaws’ meets ‘Girls Gone Wild’”. Let me note that “Girls Gone Wild” involves more talented writers.

The film stars a bunch of young actors of no real note. Currently, they are working on such classic shows as Joan of Arcadia and The O.C., as well as soap operas like Guiding Light and The Young and the Restless. All of them I’m sure are fine actors, but with a telefilm as crappy as this, the script was the last thing considered and everything they utter is pretty much pointless. In fact, I’m not sure if they had a script. I think the director said, “Now point at the water and yell ‘shark!’ Yes, dear, I know that the water is filled with blood and screaming people being eaten by sharks and this is redundant, but just point at them and say, ‘shark!’”

Sure they had some good looking actors, but on an event film like this, you need real actors—NAMES—to draw in those that might think that this is some piece of crap spit out by a bunch of hacks. So you bring out the big guns: Kathy Baker and Bryan Brown.

For those of you who don’t know Bryan Brown, years ago, before the heady days of Russell Crowe and Nicole Kidman, Hollywood hired Aussies for a different reason: they were cheap and had accents. Accents, as you may know, adds a touch of class to a film, but Brits are quality actors and that costs money… So, you go outside the ring: Welsh, Irish, Scottish and, finally the Blue Light Special: quality roles… but she had a house payment so, she took the job. She spends much of the film being understanding to her frustrated son. He’s frustrated because… well, does it really matter? It’s the “James Dean Effect”: a good-looking guy that is pissed off for some reason or another. However, he’s still a nice guy. In fact, too nice. He’s so nice and understanding, yet still pissed off that he’s not off getting laid with all the spring break whores that you just know he’s going to live.

Alternate to that is, er, bad guy. I couldn’t tell you his name, and I’ve been looking all over to find it. He’s so unimportant that they list him as an actor, but do not note the character’s name. The actor is Justin Baldoni—a good looking guy with a terrific body. Apparently, women on Spring Break don’t respond to that. They want the kind, good-looking guy, who is also understanding. Not hot guy with hot bod. Right.

Poor guy with no name, while he looks great, he’s an asshole. He even tries to give Danielle (aka “The Virgin”) roofies! Let me just stop here for a moment to note that I’ve been on Spring Break. You do not need roofies to get a girl in bed. A couple of beer shooters or Jaeger shots and tops are off. With the use of roofies, we know he’s bad… very bad. You just know that eventually he’s going to get eaten by a shark.*

The gist of the story is this… They (not sure who ‘they’ are, but it’s most likely the government) installed an artificial reef off shore of a resort. This is bad for Bryan Brown—his resort is on the other side of the island and no one is going to his beach, so he chums the waters off shore of the beach, hoping to bring in some sharks and scare people to his beach. Yeah, that could work. No major holes with this theory. Just how bad of a hotel do you have to run for it to not make any money during Spring Break? I once stayed in a room with 8 other guys with one twin bed, a bathroom that none of us dared to enter. We paid a fortune for that room and felt we got a bargain in the process.

Later, in this mini-epic presented by The Tiffany Network, as the beach is awash in half-eaten college students, and the water is churning red and foamy with 20+ attacking sharks, he mutters in his indistinguishable accent, “I never meant for anything like this to happen.” What did you think was going to happen? You put blood in the water between shark feeding grounds and pouty-breasted college students! I once fed my dog chili and beer and was shocked at the noxious results—I was completely disgusted by the results, but I was in no way surprised. Bryan was surprised.

The best performance was by the shark. I know it’s supposed to be sharkS, but it was pretty obvious they kept using the same shark over and over again. In fact, he seemed to come at everyone from the same direction. After watching this piece of crap, I now know three things: 1) sharks only attack from the right (or underneath if they are being ‘stealth’ and don’t wish to be seen—however, the jets of red water shooting 20 feet into the air as they eat tends to give away a shark’s location; 2) six buoys connected by wire can cause sharks to scatter and 3) sharks live in mortal fear of lifesavers.**

The sad thing about this film is that it was just two steps to the right of being a full-on camp film. Everyone seemed to be trying to take the crappy material and bringing something out of it. If they had taken a cue from the sharks and chewed up the scenery a little, this film would have been hysterical.

Instead, it was just dull.

Okay, there’s more to talk about in bad television*** but I’ll save that for another post.

*He does.
**Not joking… when seven sharks attack the fishing boat with some kids, they don’t attack the livesaver ring thrown to Danielle (“Virgin”), however, they have no problem ramming the boat.
***Mansquito, anyone?

An Act of Futility...

I joined a site metering website to track and manage the throng of visitors at Mornings of S&T. They monitor the number of visitors, how long they stay, what pages they viewed, etc. It's a very sophisticated system and I'm thrilled--yes, thrilled--to use this powerful tool. Tonight, they sent me a comprehensive analysis of my readership.

I anxiously opened it and I am amazed at the information they provided. On behalf of everyone here at both our Palo Alto and San Jose offices: I would like to thank my reader. (Kidding. I'm kidding.) I exaggerated, the meter shows zero hits for the week.

I do this for the joy of writing... f*** that, I want readers. What do I have to do? Bribe people? Write better? Be funny? Use correct grammar and spelling? Well, none of those things are going to happen, so I guess I'll have to be content writing for my own enjoyment.

I guess this answers why no one seemed to be leaving comments. Whatever...

I Loves Me Some Trailers...

The best part about going to the movies is seeing the previews for what I hope will be a better movie than the crap I'm seeing. Let's face it, most movies today are either bad remakes of great films, or unbelievably bad remakes of great films passed off as a "reimagination." Either way, Hollywood has lost it's ability to be creative and has gone for the buck only. Don't they realize if they create something truly original, people will flock to it... more than once?

Anyhow, [he said getting off his soapbox] I love Apple Trailers! It's a great way to see all the great trailers without the expense of going to the movies ($9.00 and Jude Law remains clothed? I don't think so...)

I just went to the site and here are my expectations of these upcoming films:

Fever Pitch: This film starring Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore looks so formulaic they could publish a Working Paper on it. However, all is forgiven for the last 'hit' in the preview. I'm gonna put this down as a Want to See.

Roll Bounce: Um... I can't tell if this is serious or a satire. It's about roller disco in the 70's. If the 70's are no longer being spoofed, then I'm outta here. The soundtrack looks good... which usually means the film bites.

House of Wax: Oh, good! They took a classic horror film and "reimagined" it. Terrific. And Paris "I'm such a whore I make Christina Aguilera look like Mother Teresa" Hilton is in it too? Why not just sh*t on Vincent Price's grave and be done with it? I'll Netflix this.

Unleashed: Jet Li kickin' some ass. You know, this looks like it might be pretty good. Uh oh. Morgan Freeman is in it. There's an Academy rule that states: When an actor wins Best Supporting Actor (particularly for their body of excellent work) their next film must be crap. (I believe it's the Joe Pesci Rule). I'm hopeful, but not expectant on this...

Downfall: I'm thinking the best film of the year might be a German film. What is causing controversy is that it shows Hitler as a complex individual--both as the cruel madman and as a friend in the last days of WWII. I don't know if I can handle thinking about Hitler as anything other than pure evil. However, if someone told me a year ago that I would laugh, applaud and cheer the sight of Hitler on stage with a giant swastika behind him--I'd have punched them. Then I saw The Producers on Broadway—sure they’re mocking him, but we are applauding “Hitler” as he stands in front of a giant swastika... Apparently, Bruno Ganz mimics Hitler's voice to a T. I doubt he’ll get a nomination for this role… It will be tough, but I want to see this one.

"Older People"...
This is an excerpt from a friend of a friend's email. I can tell I'm getting old because I agree withe her. (Her name is Maia... She doesn't know me, so I won't say anything else about her, except she's very funny). I'm saving her Paul Giamatti quote for my next issue of Slap & Tickle.

I interviewed 5 undergrads out of 40 who applied for the job, and asked them the standard questions like, "why do you want the job?" One young lady said to me, "Honestly, I don't know very many OLDER people, and I thought that I could really learn from someone who knows what they are doing in life." The interview didn't last much longer after that, as I didn't want to qualify for the category of being OLD, and I didn't want the pressure of having to seem like I know what I am doing in life. I actually taught her a valuable lesson-that people who are older don't actually like to be reminded of it, and if you choose to draw attention to it, they might not hire you.

That's Entertainment...

Denise Richards is six months pregnant and filing for divorce from the increasingly sleazy Charlie Sheen? Well, that is one marriage where they are definitely not going to remain friends. Thank you, Denise for restoring my faith in human nature and it's ability to cultivate bitterness...

Free at last! Free at Last! Thank God Almighty, Martha is Free (but under house arrest) at last! Will someone sound the church bells? I cannot tell you how happy I am to have her free--if only so we can stop hearing how she is "faring" in jail. If her release hastens the demise of that awful “Wickedly Perfect” show on CBS, then that’s alright with me. I think she’ll come back and come back big. Bitch or not, the woman knows how to throw a party—and properly pronounce crudités.

FOX cancelled North Shore… that thing is still on? I started to watch an episode and the second Shannen Doherty showed her ugly mug, my television shut itself off.

Survivor… well, poor Jeff got voted off the island. Well, at least he’s away from those losers in Ulong (which is Palau for “You Long to Get the F*** Away from These Morons”). Jeff was some nice eye-candy on that team. How am I gonna rub one out to James?

And what is it with Southerner men that they can only be Southern Gentlemen or Rubes? They don’t seem to have a middle ground for that. James didn't trust Jeff and Kim... I like how James was going "keep an' eye on dem"--probably from the bushes.

I also enjoyed how Kim tried to make the snuggling with Jeff an innocent keeping warm strategy. Honey, when your tongue is down his throat, you're not keeping him warm, you're heating him up.

Here are two things I don’t understand on Survivor:

1. They always keep the idiots that don’t do anything. “We need their strength,” is the logic the morons throw out—but if they don’t actually do anything (ever), they probably aren’t doing much more than they need to in the challenges.
   
2. Why is it when someone has a problem with another tribe member, they feel the need to express it by exploding on the individual? Did Caryn wake up and say, “I feel like being a target, so I’ll go and yell at Katie?” Trust me on this Caryn, when they vote out the annoying one, it won’t be Katie…

Get Real…

US Weekly, the bastion of quality journalism, is reporting that Katie Holmes and Chris Klein have called off their engagement. A publicist for Holmes is quoted in the magazine as saying, "They broke off the engagement but are remaining good friends."

When are celebrities going to get real and act like humans when they break up? Where’s the drama? Where’s the public humiliation?

This is what I want to read (and it’s probably closer to the truth):

Katie Holmes and Chris Klein, two minor stars in the Heavens of Hollywood have broken off their engagement. Holmes is quoted as calling Klein a “cheating bastard,” and has stated she “hopes his tiny dick falls off. That’s right… you write that down! It’s T-I-N-Y. Tiny.”

Klein stated, “She [Holmes] is messed up… I’m hangin’ large—totally large,” he stated while playing “Halo2” in the living room of a bud’s North Hollywood condo. “She always wanted to snuggle after and… uh… but… damn, did I just die? F**K! This is her fault! Jerry, I want to beat those Covenant mother f***ers, let me go again… You know, [“actor” Christian] Bale banged her in his trailer…”

“That’s a f***ing lie!” retorted Holmes while shopping at the Beverly Mall. “Christian and I never went past second base…” One of her shopping pals quickly pulled her aside and whispered in her ear, to which Holmes shot back at the reporter, “…third base! Besides, he’s carrying the whole [Batman Begins] movie and he’s stressed. I was just there to help.”

Asked if they were going to remain friends, Holmes said, “Never! To think I let him…” and then ran into a changing room to cry. Klein responded, “No way. Unless she lets me go through backdoor again… then all right.” After some quick high fives with his buds, Klein was quickly lost his game.

Yeah. That’s what I want to see. Less Demi & Bruce and more Liza & David.

Lost... with Boobs

I love the show Lost. It's full of mystery and suspense. While Jack is hot and there's a certain something going on with Sawyer, my favorite character is Hurly. He's the only man who has bigger man-boobs than I. Mine aren't as bulbous as his though. I mean his look round, more 'booby' than mine.

I'm not sure what this means other than I'm a fat ass... and I'm hungry. (well, that explains a lot, doesn't it?)

I'm off to eat...

Amazing Race Returns... and Television is Saved

Amazing Race has started again… oh, how I love this show. 11 two-person teams are on a “race around the world” performing tasks, finding markers, and most humorously, trying to communicate with the locals. (There is always one person per episode that says “Why doesn’t anyone here speak English?!”)

Most reality shows require people to backstab and plot against each other. This show simply requires you not to F’ up… and that’s where the fun comes in. Usually, there is a stunt for them to perform, sky dive, play water polo, etc. Usually, this is connected with something particular with the country they are in. Last night, the contestants were in Peru and they had to wrangle llamas. Disgusting, spitting, smelly llamas… eww.

The best part is the interaction of the members of the teams. They all have a pre-existing relationship, so there is plenty of room for drama and meltdowns. Nothing says “quality television” like watching a marriage self-destruct in a foreign country… While most teams get along, it’s the ticking-time-bomb-couples that make this show work.

Here are the teams for Amazing Race 8 (for future reference, I’ve decided to give each team their own name):

Ryan & Chuck/Team Name: The Rubes. From North Carolina (or was it South… it was a red state so who cares?) Two big (and I mean big) Southern Boys who say things like “I’m a-fixin’ and “Whoo-ee!” No clichés there. They lost… by mere seconds. They would have been fun to watch (or “Fun to be a-watchin’”).

Megan & Heidi: The Boobs. Two blondes who, obviously, had boob jobs. As a guy, I shouldn’t complain, but I’m a card-carrying homo, so they do nothing for me…

Lynn & Alex/: The ‘Mos. These guys couldn’t be any more gay if they tried… and boy do they try. They are “Executive Assistants,” which is one step up from hairdresser or production designer. They aren’t really racing… their swishing.

Susan & Patrick: The Mo-Mos. A Mother and her son, Li’l Mo. How do I know the kid is gay, you ask? Because he tells EVERYONE every chance he gets. I’m sure his mother is open minded… but like most mothers, only to a point. I’m waiting for that melt down: “Patrick, take that thing out of your mouth, put it back in his pants and let’s go!”

Rob & Amber: Suvivuhs. “Survivor” winners Rob and Amber (or as Rob says wit his tick Boston accent: “Ambuh”), think they know everything because they won Survivor… yet they couldn’t figure out how to pop the trunk of their car…

Ray & Deana: Team Timebomb. A poor man’s John & Victoria from AR6...

Uchenna & Joyce: Team Token. Why is there only ONE African American couple per race? This is diversity? They are a power black couple because, as Uchenna made a point of telling us, they “have both been laid off by MAJOR corporations.” Good thing he wasn’t laid off by a minor company… or hired by one, either.

Meredith & Gretchen: Geriatrics. Along with the lone black couple, there is always a lone old couple. I will spend most of the time praying neither breaks a hip. I’m still trying to figure out which one is Meredith and which is Gretchen…

Ron & Kelly: Team America. She was a beauty queen; he, a prisoner of war. Fear them, for they are the self-described “All-American Team.” So, she’s pretty and he had the bad luck to get shot down in Iraq. He tells everyone he got shot down, but tells them to keep it quiet. Hey, Ron, if you really want it “kept quiet” you’d shut up about it. At some point, in the middle of a challenge, he’s going to say, “I was a prisoner of war… in Iraq… I can handle this.” And I will promptly throw up.

Brian & Greg: The Dudes. I like these guys. Their nice looking and their schmoes. They are such typical guys, it’s a riot to watch them. The Hotties team likes to kiss and this gets the Dudes all hot and bothered.

Debbie & Bianca: The Hotties. Currently, they are my favorites. They’re smart, fun and currently in the number 1 spot. They work well together and with the other teams. They should be fun to watch… and to watch the Dudes hit on them.

I already can’t wait for next Tuesday…