Blow

My friend Nick (OMG!!! He plays guitar in Stellar Kart!!!) called me out on not updating my blog in five weeks for all the world to see on the ol' facebook by telling me that certainly something interesting had to have happened in that time. Sure, I went to New Zealand. And, sure, my position at job #1 was "eliminated". And, sure, last Wednesday night our entire weekend's stock of flowers froze causing the most righteous bit of insanity I have ever encountered there. And, sure, my mom came to visit. All of these would have made great blog entries but I am far too lazy to go back and record them in written form... Luckily, I have a story from this morning already. It's not even 8 o'clock in the morning yet.

I was in the middle of a wonderful dream and, as always, my phone was on. I had an interview with a recruiter at a staffing agency for an HR position this morning and I do like the occasional/semi-frequent text message from an inebriated friend especially when it happens on a Sunday night. Right in the middle of my dream, long about when I was about to fistfight the Incredible Hulk on top of Mt. Everest while Asia played "Heat of the Moment" in the background, my phone rang. I rolled over, saw a local number on my caller ID, and answered.

Super sultry mystery voice: "Hi, Stephen?"

Me: "Yeeeeeees?"

Super sultry mystery voice: "Hi! This is Karen from Randstad staffing. I'm calling about our meeting this morning!"

Me: "Oh, great! Yeah, I went online last night and --"

Karen the super sultry recruiter: "Well, that's what I wanted to talk about. I've reviewed your resume a little further and it looks like you're overqualified for this position."

Me: "For the HR position?"

Karen the recruiter who used to be super sultry and now had merely become just some chick on the phone: "Yeah... I don't want to waste your time by bringing you in for an interview for this position if it's not going to be a good fit."

Me: "That's cool. I've got some trivia questions to write this morning anyway."

Some chick on the phone: "Trivia questions?"

Me: "Yeah... And I think I'm gonna watch a movie. It sounds like a pretty full morning, right?"

Some chick on the phone [after a moment of silence]: "Actually... Wait... What movie?"

Me: "Blow. It's about cocaine. "

A part of me wonders why I'm not working today.

SUPER EDWARD CULLEN SPARKLE FACE DAY

So today marks the big day. That's right. THE DAY. For women the country over, I don't even have to mention what day it is. For men, I probably do. That's right... it's SUPER EDWARD CULLEN SPARKLE FACE DAY!

Dudes the world over just went, "Huh?"

That's right... Today marks the release of Twilight: What the Hell Book Movie are We on Now? [HTML, to the rescue!] in theaters nationwide. I have trouble supporting the world of Harry Potter -- let's face it, they spend 700 pages talking about how they can't talk about Voldemort then the Hogwart's gang fights him at the end of the book only to have the match end in a stalemate, thus perpetuating the next year of magic school and subsequent book(s) in the adventure. I'm sorry. I lost it somewhere during year five and walked away. The thing is, by all accounts, J.K. Rowling is fairly good writer whereas this Stephenie Meyer chick is quite awful. To quote Stephen King:

The real difference [between Rowling and Meyer] is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer, and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a damn. She's not very good... People are attracted by the stories, by the pace and in the case of Stephenie Meyer, it's very clear that she's writing to a whole generation of girls and opening up kind of a safe joining of love and sex in those books. It's exciting and it's thrilling and it's not particularly threatening because it's not overtly sexual.

In all honesty, I did see the second Twilight film. I was hanging out with Michelle and Brian and Michelle really wanted to see it. And, if you know anything about me, you'll know that I'll watch pretty much any movie you put in front of me. I also own Mega Snake on DVD, so take my opinion on films rather lightly. So, for you unfortunate fellows who will invariably dragged kicking and screaming by your lady to SUPER EDWARD CULLEN SPARKLE FACE DAY, let me give you a quick run down of what has happened so far in the world of teenage vampire lust books:

Edward is a really good-looking, 110 year old vampire who hangs out at high schools. Bella is some chick who goes to high school. Then some guy named Jacob turns into a werewolf. No one makes out. Edward goes to Mexico (or some place). Bella cries for months in her room and goes cliff diving. No one makes out. Edward comes back and looks like a fuckin' Lite Brite in the sunshine. No one makes out. A couple characters go to Italy (or some other place) and fight some other vampires. Then there is a proposal. There. I just saved you four boobless hours of not watching the first two movies.

Here's the thing, though, about SUPER EDWARD CULLEN SPARKLE FACE DAY that I have a real problem with: it makes girls and women the world over think that dudes that look like SUPER EDWARD CULLEN SPARKLE FACE are interested in girls like Bella. You think the best-looking star of a high school wants to date the nerdy chick that listens to indie rock and lives with her dad? Nope. Me neither. Besides... I seem to recall this story coming out a few years ago:

And She's All That has better acting, too. It is this humble blogger's opinion that if your acting is worse than that of Freddie Prinze, Jr., you need to cut that shit out. Immediately.

If I looked like SUPER EDWARD CULLEN SPARKLE FACE, I'd probably have things a bit easier in life. I'd have multiple visible ab muscles instead of this round thing in their place. I'd have mussed, spiky hair that doesn't smell like pizza (note to self: wash hair today). I'd be 6 foot something and not look like a Leprechaun. I'm also confident that I could at least make out with a chick that's better looking than Bella. Hell, I do that now... from time to time. Or at least I'd have you believe that. See, it's all about confidence... And... Hell... Lost my train of thought.

Fellas who are going to see this film this week(end), I salute you. You're much better at being your gal's man than I think I could ever be. Besides... I think I hear Mega Snake calling my name.





You've got to give credit to Stephenie Meyer, though. She knows how to market her writing to the ladies. Maybe I should hang out with her... Get my readership up.

The Thin Red Line

If you haven't taken 3 hours out of your life to watch The Thin Red Line then you need to come over to my house and watch it. Now. Well, not now because I'm not there... and when I am there, I am usually asleep. Also, I'm writing in my blog and the internet connection at my house is hit or miss... and that's 'cause I steal it.

What? I live my life on the cheap and if my neighbors are just going to throw out a free internet signal, I might as well use it. Don't judge me.

I watched the movie when I was in college and didn't like. As a matter of fact, not only did I not like it, I didn't understand it. There is a great deal of voice over work. There are plenty of rhetorical questions. John Travolta has a mustache. I've done a great job of selling this, haven't I? Lucky for me, I'm not a movie producer and just a dude that hangs out.

The other evening in a fit of boredom and having gone through most all of my movies in the past 7 months, I made my way over to my collection and pulled this one off the shelf. It marked the first time I had watched it since in about 8 years. Am I ever glad that I did.

Here's the trailer:


It's got the kind of dialogue and the voice overs (oh, the amazing voice overs!) that I wish I could write. I particularly like the lines that Pvt. Jack Bell (played by Ben Chaplin) was given. One in particular:
"Love. Where does it come from? Who lit this flame in us? No war can put it out, conquer it. I was a prisoner. You set me free."

This love... it was written with verve and vigor. And it's the love that's the kind that can't last. And you know it. At least, I do. I've been there.

Go watch the movie.