SuperSad

Six days away from fresh JAM~!

With the happy stuff out of the way, onto the utter bullshit of last night. Ashley and I were gonna rock the ol' Studio 35 at 7 and see Superbad. Instead, wackiness ensued! First off, I arrived a couple of minutes before Ashley, at around 6:46. I bought my student ticket and prepared to settle for a Miller Lite when I looked up at the menu and discovered that PBR had returned to the theater! I asked the ticket seller man when they had made up with Pabst, and he was completely clueless. Managerial type lass behind the counter said they'd had PBR back for around six months but refused to delve into the process of bringing it back. I was actually very curious about this, because last I knew, the theater and the beer were at odds. Whatever though. Not that important. I secured OUR booth and waited for Ashley to arrive. She did in short order, got herself a beer and a FULL PRICED TICKET, and we waited for the movie to start.

The thing about the tickets at Studio 35, which Ashley was not aware of, is that they usually cost $6. However, being a frugal and thoughtful sort who usually plans our outings, I've always arranged our cinematic endeavors for Wednesday nights, which is the movie house's bargain evening, where all tickets are sold for the low, low price of $4. Ashley was not aware of this, and was positively gobsmacked at the added expense. I think she may have just been looking for a reason to be angry with the new ownership, but I informed her that it's always been this way. Fortunately, she'd get her chance to be discontent very soon.

At 7:00, the movie started. Kind of. Part of it was running in the corner of the screen. No big deal. Just the opening credits. "They'll fix it", I thought. What a fool I was. The movie stopped, and what was great about it is that it didn't just stop, it slowed down and THEN stopped, so we were treated to a very loud, very scary, slow motion rendition of Too Hot to Stop by the Bar-Kays.

A few minutes passed. We smoked a cigarette and talked about almost walking out of The Hills Have Eyes eighteen months prior, and what a mistake that would have been. Back inside, the movie kicked up again, ready to rock! Now it was in the first couple minutes of the movie, and still way off-center. Something about it being the projectionist's FIRST NIGHT ON THE JOB was overheard, and we began to worry. With good reason, as it turned out.

We got more beer, nachos were ordered, and the process of the movie starting, running for 90 seconds in the corner of the screen, and then stopping was repeated again and again, with increasingly loud groans from the sparse crowd. There were rumblings that someone was on their way in the next five minutes, but who or why it was significant I'll never know. It seemed that they would be able to fix everything somehow.

It was about 7:35 at this point and it dawned on me that if they started the thing over right now, they wouldn't even make the next showing on time. Turns out, that was never even a concern as you'll find out below.

This savior guy showed up, and the movie was finally being shown in full flower, right in the middle of the screen in glorious resolution. Problem was, after all those starts and stops, we were a good ten minutes into the film. Turns out... THEY CAN'T REWIND. I don't even know how that's possible. But whatever, right? I asked for our money back and was offered passes instead. I guess I could have put up a big fight about it, but the reality is that I like Studio 35 and I'll certainly use my passes, so I'm not going to let this one bad experience wreck eighteen years of patronage. That's right, my first double feature was Turner and Hooch and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Hell yeah.

Ashley gave me a lift home and we parted ways. I realized that it was only 8:00 and I had a big hole in my schedule from the time I had planned on being inside a movie theater, so I hollered at Andrew. He'd save me from boredom, right? RIGHT?

WRONG. He had conned Renkes into heading north to a Bob Log show in the Land of Cleve.

So where did I turn to? What did I do? As it turns out, my salvation came from a most unlikely source... the Dixie Chicks.

That's right. I have that Starz! on Demand gimmick (as my friend Paul would say) and so I spent the next hour and a half watching Shut Up and Sing! This movie is so awesome. First of all, the Dixie Chicks aren't some thrown together band that was thrust upon America like I'd always assumed. Their original lineup formed in 1989 as a pretty straight forward bluegrass outfit. Natalie Maines joined the crew in 1995 and they've been plugging away with that lineup for twelve years. Also, they're really damn good. I more or less turn a deaf ear to any country post - 1979 with very few exceptions, but these ladies are wicked sweet. Documentaries are amazing. This thing started out as a basic tour diary kind of thing, and then in England, Natalie said what she said about the upcoming war and about Bush, and suddenly the filmmakers had something quite different. It actually reminds me a lot of Wrestling With Shadows. Paul Jay and his crew had gotten unrestricted access to the WWF to film a year in the life of Bret Hart. It just so happened that all of the Montreal bullshit took place in that time frame and they were there to capture all of it. That was, needless to say, the last time Vince McMahon ever gave anyone such unfettered access.


Not Ready to Make Nice is a serious jam.

Anyway, watch this movie. Especially if you have any interest in seeing a post - Krush Groove Rick Rubin being fat and bald. I know I didn't!


Um... okay, maybe fashion's NOT your strong suit. Whatever, baby. You're still the girl for me!