I'll never forget this morning, at around 12:30.
"We don't have grits."
The crestfallen look on my midnight snack companion's face was enough to break your heart. She settled on pancakes and claimed to be "fine", but I knew the truth. I also ended up eating half of her pancakes, along with the 12 silver dollars I ordered. So, thanks for settling, Ashley. I wouldn't have eaten grits!
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Monday, March 29, 2004
School Daze
Being back in a classroom is having a very calming, soothing effect on me. I feel like I'm sixteen years old again, without the unpleasant angst. After quite a few reservations, I'm really happy that I decided to do this. Happily, I'm only taking classes that I have an interest in right now (World Civilizations and English). It might be a different story come next quarter when I finally decide to brave college Algebra. Anyway, for the time being, I'm content with school and that's all that matters.
My Hell week of Kraft work (Kraftwerk?) is finally over. Six days of putting together Kool Aid displays (as Lee can tell you) is NOT a picnic. I've been sneezing blue since Wednesday.
Saturday's party did not come close to matching last year's End of the World bash, but who really thought that it could? I had a great time while I was conscious, although I really should have paced myself better for maximum enjoyment. I think Julia is pissed off at me over my excess. Or she's just being a chick and not returning my phone calls out of laziness. I'm through with white girls.
Raw thoughts tomorrow afternoon before I go to class. Peace, y'allz.
My Hell week of Kraft work (Kraftwerk?) is finally over. Six days of putting together Kool Aid displays (as Lee can tell you) is NOT a picnic. I've been sneezing blue since Wednesday.
Saturday's party did not come close to matching last year's End of the World bash, but who really thought that it could? I had a great time while I was conscious, although I really should have paced myself better for maximum enjoyment. I think Julia is pissed off at me over my excess. Or she's just being a chick and not returning my phone calls out of laziness. I'm through with white girls.
Raw thoughts tomorrow afternoon before I go to class. Peace, y'allz.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Smackdown: Now featuring STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS!
So, I've been reviewing a lot of crappy indy wrestling lately. My beer report idea is going along swimmingly so far. (I start the tape as I crack my first beer, and just keep writing down my thoughts on the matches as I get progressively drunker.) I'm not drinking tonight, but I did watch Smackdown while sitting at my computer, so... LUCKY YOU!
Stream of Consciousness Smackdown Thoughts
HHH has come to Smackdown. I live in fear of this show.
Kurt Angle is the new General Manager of Smackdown? O...kay. He traded HHH back to RAW. Yay. For the Dudley Boys. Booooo. And Booker T. YAY! Booker is all indignant at being in the minor leagues. That was a thirty second heel turn right there.
MicroTouch tells us all: "Razors can cut you. Scissors can poke you." Take it to the bank. It's good as gold. PUT DOWN THE POINTY SCISSORS! WHAT! ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY??!?!?!? JESUS! Thank you, MicroTouch......
The Dudleys are the poor man's Nasty Boys. The more I think about the Nasty Boys the more I like them in retrospect. Lee will probably talk me out of it. "We don't think you're nasty... we think you're SCUM!"
Bradshaw is doing a JR Ewing caricature, which is... surreal, to say the least. The New Country pseudo-cowboy kind of works for him, though. He needs to start drinking Mountain Dew.
That Shandi chick on Top Model is going for that whole Bookworm Bitches.com feel and she would be the one you skip over to get the one in the plaid skirt bent over the copier. Leah Remini would be the greatest possible Dirty Latina Maid... but... but... I share... too much.
(Alert! The preceding was the VERY LAST "America's Next Top Model" posting I will EVER make. Unless the show gets picked up next season. Live in fear, young Patton!)
They're still airing Trojan commercials. Fuck that. I've said it before, I'll say it again. Your average wrestling fan has NO use for a condom. Period. That reminds me, though. I really ought to go to Giant Eagle and find a hot cashier to harass. "Lookee here darlin', you may wanna do a price check on this here pack of 64 Sheik Elites. After all, numbers 26-29 have got YOUR name on 'em! YEEHAW!"
Oh... and some guys wrestled. But that ain't why you're here. It's all about the Top Model LUV.
Stream of Consciousness Smackdown Thoughts
HHH has come to Smackdown. I live in fear of this show.
Kurt Angle is the new General Manager of Smackdown? O...kay. He traded HHH back to RAW. Yay. For the Dudley Boys. Booooo. And Booker T. YAY! Booker is all indignant at being in the minor leagues. That was a thirty second heel turn right there.
MicroTouch tells us all: "Razors can cut you. Scissors can poke you." Take it to the bank. It's good as gold. PUT DOWN THE POINTY SCISSORS! WHAT! ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY??!?!?!? JESUS! Thank you, MicroTouch......
The Dudleys are the poor man's Nasty Boys. The more I think about the Nasty Boys the more I like them in retrospect. Lee will probably talk me out of it. "We don't think you're nasty... we think you're SCUM!"
Bradshaw is doing a JR Ewing caricature, which is... surreal, to say the least. The New Country pseudo-cowboy kind of works for him, though. He needs to start drinking Mountain Dew.
That Shandi chick on Top Model is going for that whole Bookworm Bitches.com feel and she would be the one you skip over to get the one in the plaid skirt bent over the copier. Leah Remini would be the greatest possible Dirty Latina Maid... but... but... I share... too much.
(Alert! The preceding was the VERY LAST "America's Next Top Model" posting I will EVER make. Unless the show gets picked up next season. Live in fear, young Patton!)
They're still airing Trojan commercials. Fuck that. I've said it before, I'll say it again. Your average wrestling fan has NO use for a condom. Period. That reminds me, though. I really ought to go to Giant Eagle and find a hot cashier to harass. "Lookee here darlin', you may wanna do a price check on this here pack of 64 Sheik Elites. After all, numbers 26-29 have got YOUR name on 'em! YEEHAW!"
Oh... and some guys wrestled. But that ain't why you're here. It's all about the Top Model LUV.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
A battle of BIBLICAL proportions
I am stoked today. You know why? Because the Christian world's second zombie story was finally overcome by the flashy gore-fest that is DAWN OF THE DEAD. Sure, "Passion" had been on top for weeks, but still, DotD stole its thorny crown to the tune of 30 million dollars. Zombie freaks unite! Now we just need an exploitative Lazarus picture by Fulci.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
Dawn of the Dead: A brief analysis
I had an absolute blast tonight at Dawn of the Dead. It lacked all of the depth of the original, but was never dull and at times quite frightening. Lots of style, little substance, with a cohesive plotline. That's really all I ask out of my Friday night cinema fare.
I did like very much that they addressed whether or not a death not caused by infection from a bite would turn the deceased into a zombie. I don't think that any characters died from non-zombie causes in any of the Romero films, unless you count raiding bikers in the original "Dawn", whom we never got much follow up on.
A few problems did crop up for me, though.
No Survivors: What the fuck kind of zombie nightmare ends without any humans left? If the essential message underneath the makeup and squibs is the good in mankind triumphing over the evil, why couldn't somebody live to tell the tale? Like a zombie could bite through Ving Rhames, anyway. That motha is HOD, boy!
Super zombies: Anybody ever play the Resident Evil remake for Gamecube? Remember the first time a zombie you had killed hours earlier popped up and ran you down at ridiculous speed? That's the feeling I had for much of this movie. I can grudgingly deal with zombies that move as quickly as living human beings. What I cannot accept is zombies that are stronger and faster than us. Their threat is supposed to be that there are so damn many of them, not their individual attributes.
Zombie baby: Fuck that, man. The entire theater was laughing when her CGI eyes opened up. They should have just had her cry offscreen, then the gunshot.
Too many warm bodies: There were entirely too many human characters in this movie. You really end up not caring about more than half of the cast at all because there isn't time to do any meaningful character development. This is also to the detriment of the main characters, who don't seem like nearly as tight knit a group as Stephen, Peter, Roger, and Fran. Having so many characters also robs the film of the feeling of isolation that permeated the original.
I really probably am picking too many nits because of my love for the original, and all in all I reccomend the new incarnation without hesitation to anyone just looking for a fun weekend movie.
I did like very much that they addressed whether or not a death not caused by infection from a bite would turn the deceased into a zombie. I don't think that any characters died from non-zombie causes in any of the Romero films, unless you count raiding bikers in the original "Dawn", whom we never got much follow up on.
A few problems did crop up for me, though.
No Survivors: What the fuck kind of zombie nightmare ends without any humans left? If the essential message underneath the makeup and squibs is the good in mankind triumphing over the evil, why couldn't somebody live to tell the tale? Like a zombie could bite through Ving Rhames, anyway. That motha is HOD, boy!
Super zombies: Anybody ever play the Resident Evil remake for Gamecube? Remember the first time a zombie you had killed hours earlier popped up and ran you down at ridiculous speed? That's the feeling I had for much of this movie. I can grudgingly deal with zombies that move as quickly as living human beings. What I cannot accept is zombies that are stronger and faster than us. Their threat is supposed to be that there are so damn many of them, not their individual attributes.
Zombie baby: Fuck that, man. The entire theater was laughing when her CGI eyes opened up. They should have just had her cry offscreen, then the gunshot.
Too many warm bodies: There were entirely too many human characters in this movie. You really end up not caring about more than half of the cast at all because there isn't time to do any meaningful character development. This is also to the detriment of the main characters, who don't seem like nearly as tight knit a group as Stephen, Peter, Roger, and Fran. Having so many characters also robs the film of the feeling of isolation that permeated the original.
I really probably am picking too many nits because of my love for the original, and all in all I reccomend the new incarnation without hesitation to anyone just looking for a fun weekend movie.
Friday, March 19, 2004
An update JUST for Andrew
I'm really tired and I'll do a proper update tomorrow before ETERNAL SUNSHINE~! and DAWN~! but for now... TOP MODEL COMMERCIAL THOUGHTS!
Has there ever been a gathering of women that I would never want to fuck more that the group in the AMERICA'a TOP MODEL? Now, that gal on KING OF QUEENS, I'd stir it with her. I'd have it off with her. I'd ply her with merciful and caring love. I would kiss her on the nape of the neck. I would gently stroke the side of her face. I would deeply apologize about coming all over my jeans when I saw her naked shoulder. Yes I would. It would be the finest of apologies. Yes. She would have never heard a finer apology. No. She wouldn't have. No.
I love you, Drewsasta!
Has there ever been a gathering of women that I would never want to fuck more that the group in the AMERICA'a TOP MODEL? Now, that gal on KING OF QUEENS, I'd stir it with her. I'd have it off with her. I'd ply her with merciful and caring love. I would kiss her on the nape of the neck. I would gently stroke the side of her face. I would deeply apologize about coming all over my jeans when I saw her naked shoulder. Yes I would. It would be the finest of apologies. Yes. She would have never heard a finer apology. No. She wouldn't have. No.
I love you, Drewsasta!
Saturday, March 13, 2004
My new favorite band: the Multiculturpals.
Thank goodness they have blogs in Heaven, because the Dirtbombs KILLED me. Seriously, I don't know if I've ever been rocked so hard in my entire life. This is truly one of those instances where the saying "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger" actually applies. Except I'm dead... so it doesn't. But if I had just barely managed to survive the thorough rocking, I'm sure it WOULD have made me stronger.
The lineup was local act Cheater Slicks, followed by the Greenhornes, and closing out with the Dirtbombs. Now, in true weekend rock fashion, the doors opened at eight, nearly two and a half hours before the first band took the stage. Dre and I didn't show up until nine thirty, so the wait wasn't so bad.
After being thoroughly unimpressed with local trio Cheater Slicks, the Greenhornes went to work setting my mood right. Andrew seems to think of them as more deserving of the Monkees 2K4 mantle than Apollo Sunshine, but what does he know about music?
So, I dug the Greenhornes, but then... the main event made me forget everything I had ever known about rocking out. Green what? Who hornes? It's all about the motherfuckin' Dirtbombs, baby. Black lead singer? Check. Smokin' hot Asian bassist chick? Check. Two drummers? Check and check. This is a band that I will be supporting with the purchasing of many tickets and much merchandise, I assure you.
The only thing missing from the show was the heaving of dirt at the audience with explosive sound effects. Maybe next time. I dropped a suggestion card.
The lineup was local act Cheater Slicks, followed by the Greenhornes, and closing out with the Dirtbombs. Now, in true weekend rock fashion, the doors opened at eight, nearly two and a half hours before the first band took the stage. Dre and I didn't show up until nine thirty, so the wait wasn't so bad.
After being thoroughly unimpressed with local trio Cheater Slicks, the Greenhornes went to work setting my mood right. Andrew seems to think of them as more deserving of the Monkees 2K4 mantle than Apollo Sunshine, but what does he know about music?
So, I dug the Greenhornes, but then... the main event made me forget everything I had ever known about rocking out. Green what? Who hornes? It's all about the motherfuckin' Dirtbombs, baby. Black lead singer? Check. Smokin' hot Asian bassist chick? Check. Two drummers? Check and check. This is a band that I will be supporting with the purchasing of many tickets and much merchandise, I assure you.
The only thing missing from the show was the heaving of dirt at the audience with explosive sound effects. Maybe next time. I dropped a suggestion card.
Friday, March 12, 2004
Su-Su-Suicide
I just found out that Dave Blood of the Dead Milkmen killed himself. I always liked them and I was sad to read the news. Just felt like posting that, I guess.
Smackdown! and other shiz
Andrew lucks out again as we're at two weeks running in me not talking about "America's Next Top Model". I watched Smackdown! on tape delay, so I just fast forwarded through all of the commercials. Except for the Micro Touch shaver commercial, because I love it so.
Onto the show...
Chavo Senior the announcer is somehow even better than Chavo Senior the manager AND Chavo Senior the fashion plate. When he started going off in Spanish I thought I was going to cry. Also, the Rey/Jamie Noble match was tons of fun and even more fun was the ECW style 8 man tag that the match restarted as. The Cruiserweight Open on Sunday is going to be wicked.
Again with the crappy Lowrider trucks from Eddy. Where are the American muscle machines!? Shelton Benjamin is totally worthy of holding Mark Henry's mantle as my Black Wrestling Jesus for a few months longer and he showed exactly why against Eddy. He's going to be main eventing pay per views someday. Kurt Angle coming out and making the "I want da belt" motion over his Micro Touch shaven abs was pretty cool, too.
They're in Atlantic City and Cena is wearing a Gastineau throwback. I don't know who the fuck Gastineau is, so I'll assume it's a hockey thing and just write it off.
Dawn Marie wearing a Vampirella outfit makes my loins explode with gooey gothic love.
I don't know why I didn't fast forward the Sable and Torrie at Playboy's 50th Anniversary party deal, but I didn't. The scary thing is, you can actually visualize the guys they're talking to jacking off to their pictorial.
"Oh Torrie! I've got you in a nekkid hammerlock! GUUUH! HEY Sable I got you inna inna inna inna nekkid headscissors! HUW! HUW! HUW! Torrie I got YOU inna... nekkid headlock! GRUUUUH! Sable I got you inna nekkid...uh.... uh...uh... UUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGH..."
Anyway, that was Smackdown. Another hard sell show, sure, but it's Wrestlemania week. WHADDYA WANT!?
Dirtbombs are tonight. I've got MY ticket, fools. God bless Andrew Patton. I don't know if I'd EVER get out to shows if not for him. No, I take that back. I DO know if I'd ever get out to shows if not for him, and the answer is no.
Andrew "Funky D" Patton: Band Aid
1979-2017
Onto the show...
Chavo Senior the announcer is somehow even better than Chavo Senior the manager AND Chavo Senior the fashion plate. When he started going off in Spanish I thought I was going to cry. Also, the Rey/Jamie Noble match was tons of fun and even more fun was the ECW style 8 man tag that the match restarted as. The Cruiserweight Open on Sunday is going to be wicked.
Again with the crappy Lowrider trucks from Eddy. Where are the American muscle machines!? Shelton Benjamin is totally worthy of holding Mark Henry's mantle as my Black Wrestling Jesus for a few months longer and he showed exactly why against Eddy. He's going to be main eventing pay per views someday. Kurt Angle coming out and making the "I want da belt" motion over his Micro Touch shaven abs was pretty cool, too.
They're in Atlantic City and Cena is wearing a Gastineau throwback. I don't know who the fuck Gastineau is, so I'll assume it's a hockey thing and just write it off.
Dawn Marie wearing a Vampirella outfit makes my loins explode with gooey gothic love.
I don't know why I didn't fast forward the Sable and Torrie at Playboy's 50th Anniversary party deal, but I didn't. The scary thing is, you can actually visualize the guys they're talking to jacking off to their pictorial.
"Oh Torrie! I've got you in a nekkid hammerlock! GUUUH! HEY Sable I got you inna inna inna inna nekkid headscissors! HUW! HUW! HUW! Torrie I got YOU inna... nekkid headlock! GRUUUUH! Sable I got you inna nekkid...uh.... uh...uh... UUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGH..."
Anyway, that was Smackdown. Another hard sell show, sure, but it's Wrestlemania week. WHADDYA WANT!?
Dirtbombs are tonight. I've got MY ticket, fools. God bless Andrew Patton. I don't know if I'd EVER get out to shows if not for him. No, I take that back. I DO know if I'd ever get out to shows if not for him, and the answer is no.
Andrew "Funky D" Patton: Band Aid
1979-2017
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
RAW thoughts and a break
RAW was the usual yearly Wrestlemania hard sell, but there were some things I noticed.
With Shane Helms and Matt Hardy both doing jobs in under two minutes, the show had the feel of Jim Crockett buying the Hardy brothers old OMEGA promotion and then burying all of the talent. The 45 seconds of Helms versus Flair kicked ass, though.
Jericho and Stevie Richards had the best two minute match possible, especially with Stevie getting the duke.
What the fuck was that long mic segment with Benoit, Michaels and Helmsley? Fuck did that go on forever, get no heat and completely bury the match. They try to put over Helmsley as a guy playing mind games as he's pitting their egos against each other. God that stupid. How hard would it be to simply tell the truth:
Helmsley sits in a room with Flair:
Flair: Hunter, you're in trouble. Benoit, he's bad news.
HHH: Bah! he's no threat to me, he's as heatless as you get.
Flair: No H-man, I worked with him in WCW. You feud with Benoit... he'll fuck your wife. You'll be out a job.
HHH: Aw shit, you're right. Hmm. HBK still wants a piece of me after the last PPV. Maybe I can trick him into getting involved. Do you think they'd all fall into my trap? Three way dance.
Flair: Damn, H-man you're a genius... distract Benoit with that Nitro Girl ho Michaels married. He won't know which one to tag. You're a cerebral Assassin.
See, that makes Triple H actually look smart. I have no problem with smart heels as long as they actually ARE smart. I DO have a problem with Jim Ross telling me how smart Triple H is for the past five years when all he ever does is hit people with sledgehammers. There's a difference.
Johnny Blaze is already Johnny Spade. I wonder who threatened legal action first; Marvel or Method Man.
I can't believe they sent that poor old woman to a hotel room with Jimmy Snuka.
I'm sorry. That was in REALLY poor taste. I'm done.
I'm going to be staying with Amy (my sister) for the next couple of days, so no blog rollin' from me. Peace, y'allz.
With Shane Helms and Matt Hardy both doing jobs in under two minutes, the show had the feel of Jim Crockett buying the Hardy brothers old OMEGA promotion and then burying all of the talent. The 45 seconds of Helms versus Flair kicked ass, though.
Jericho and Stevie Richards had the best two minute match possible, especially with Stevie getting the duke.
What the fuck was that long mic segment with Benoit, Michaels and Helmsley? Fuck did that go on forever, get no heat and completely bury the match. They try to put over Helmsley as a guy playing mind games as he's pitting their egos against each other. God that stupid. How hard would it be to simply tell the truth:
Helmsley sits in a room with Flair:
Flair: Hunter, you're in trouble. Benoit, he's bad news.
HHH: Bah! he's no threat to me, he's as heatless as you get.
Flair: No H-man, I worked with him in WCW. You feud with Benoit... he'll fuck your wife. You'll be out a job.
HHH: Aw shit, you're right. Hmm. HBK still wants a piece of me after the last PPV. Maybe I can trick him into getting involved. Do you think they'd all fall into my trap? Three way dance.
Flair: Damn, H-man you're a genius... distract Benoit with that Nitro Girl ho Michaels married. He won't know which one to tag. You're a cerebral Assassin.
See, that makes Triple H actually look smart. I have no problem with smart heels as long as they actually ARE smart. I DO have a problem with Jim Ross telling me how smart Triple H is for the past five years when all he ever does is hit people with sledgehammers. There's a difference.
Johnny Blaze is already Johnny Spade. I wonder who threatened legal action first; Marvel or Method Man.
I can't believe they sent that poor old woman to a hotel room with Jimmy Snuka.
I'm sorry. That was in REALLY poor taste. I'm done.
I'm going to be staying with Amy (my sister) for the next couple of days, so no blog rollin' from me. Peace, y'allz.
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