Billy Madison

I looked over to the lane next to mine as I was driving yesterday, to witness one of the more baffling traffic sights one can encounter. (besides motorcyclists being scraped off the pavement of course) I saw this tiny Filipino woman literally compressed between the driver seat and her dangerously encroaching steering wheel like a grilled cheese sandwich. The steering wheel appeared to have the circumference of a hoola hoop in her tiny grasp and she was so tightly packed in the car she looked like a midget in the cockpit of a fighter jet. If that poor woman so much as bumped another car while parking, causing the air bag to deploy, she would undeniably be decapitated. I looked on with a combination of horror, amusement, and surprise, as she drove away, her face literally centimeters from the horn, steering the mammoth wheel as if the captain of an old Spanish sailing ship. I guess sights like these should never really surprise me anymore, it's just that they sort of creep up on you when you're least expecting it. You know, one moment you're riding the subway, momentarily scanning the random crowd of faces, and the next moment a guy's clipping his toe nails . . . . . . . with his teeth. Or you're at the park with your dog and some dude is suspiciously looking around before he takes his underwear off and discards them into the bushes.

Months ago, I was coming home from work taking a back route through a quiet little neighborhood, when I saw a man and his boy exiting a large truck that had just parked in front of a house that I assumed was theirs. As if they had just pulled up to a giant aluminum trough in a public restroom, the little boy, around 3 or so, pulled his pants down and started taking a piss on the street, in front of the truck, his dad, a 3 bedroom 2 bathroom townhouse, me, and the rest of the fucking neighborhood! When the boy was finished, his dad (if you can call him that), came over and practically congratulated the kid before they disappeared into the house. Yes, the house with at least two bathrooms. I mean, they didn't look like they were in a hurry. Their faces carried no signs of desperation, necessity, or worry, akin to people who can't wait a second longer before their bladder explodes. As nonchalant as their emergence on the scene, the public display of urinary transgression was as equally of no concern or consequence. They acted completely normal, as if this were a daily occurrence, (which probably was) as if this were just another trip to the bathroom by a Father and Son at half time, during a Sunday football game. Right when you think you've seen it all.

I began to wonder about my childhood and all the questionable places I had peed. (once on my own leg to quell a jelly fish sting) Hell, I began to sift through all of the adult files as well, including all the accounts of inebriated, piss-poor decision making at sporting events, BBQ's, parties, nightclubs, and tail gaters; not even leaving out any testosterone fueled Dares from intoxicated peers. I'm a guy, after all, my plumbing allows me the freedom to take advantage of certain bladder relieving discretions if you will. If they can be avoided, of course we'd rather not pee in this alley, behind that car, or in the corner of this parking garage, or in the Gatorade bottle I'll have to stare at for the next few hours of our road trip. (So warm in your lap) But if it can't, well as they say, when Nature calls . . . . . you best be answering, because she doesn't like to leave long, detailed messages that take up a lot of space on your answering machine and everybody knows that's rude and inconsiderate and God help you if you haven't called her back in 3 days after you took her to dinner the last time and she invited you in for a night cap, which ended up with you in her bed, making awesome drunk marathon sex sweet love to her for two hours, but you felt a little weirded out because afterward you noticed she had My Little Ponies every where in her room, the walls adorned with stuffed animals and glitter posters, and you had to stare at the ceiling covered in glowing stars until she fell asleep so you could escape, but you're an asshole for not calling her after the amazing fulfillment of destiny your souls had just shared. Okay, well maybe I'm the only one who says that. Anyway, then I wondered if this is the path that people take who eventually grow up to do some R. Kelly type shit. Just sayin', makes you wonder.

Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

Haven't felt much like writing lately, so I've been dedicating that time to reading instead. Besides, there are a few books I need to knock out before I'm ready to take on that new Twilight series. I just hope it's as good as I've heard.

On a similar note, I have mixed emotions about reading books before watching the movie, or vice versa. Movies will inevitably leave out chunks of important storyline or will simply fail to live up to the world painted by the imagination. And if you see the movie first, you already know what's going to happen while you read, making intricate endings hollow or anticlimactic. Movie or Book? I'm generally more inclined to read the book first, primarily because after I've seen the movie, there's no way in hell I'm going to be motivated enough to read the book. Especially, if there is more than one. Perfect example, Lord of the Rings. Sure, I had read the Hobbit as a kid, but after watching the three Ring movies, I don't think the books could top it. Particularly since the movie is probably how I would have imagined it anyway. Although, I wouldn't have made Gandolf such a sissy in the movie.

Fightclub was an awesome movie. I thought that reading the book afterwards would be a good idea as well, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Great book, but it's exactly like the movie and no matter how extraordinary your imagination might be, there's no way it would have created a better performance than what the movie and its actors delivered. And for those of you who haven't experienced either, the narrator and Tyler Durden are the same person. Yeah, I'm in that kind of a mood.

I wish I would have read the Harry Potter books before watching the movies, none of which I liked too much by the way. Here is one instance that I think my imagination would have done a way better job of things. I can already hear the grumbles of disagreement, but I found them to be a little too juvenile for my tastes. Not to mention, anyone standing in line dressed up in anything other than normal clothes, waiting for stores to open so they can purchase the next book in the series, isn't typically an indication of anything I want to be a part of. I'm not one to follow the masses anyway. Notably those fanatically adorned with capes and wielding magic wands. Don't get me wrong though, I'd bang a hot sorceress in a heartbeat. I'm just sayin'.

The Twilight movie might be good, but it has just as much potential, if not more, to suck. It's difficult to make movies with the element of flying in them. You either have to stick entirely with the thought of fantasy, or make it seem realistic enough to correspond with a story that you want people to believe can be real. In either case, the actual physics of flying has to closely mimic the laws that govern flight in our world, otherwise viewers will automatically see the flaws and lose interest. Once you have attained seamlessness in physical action, then you have to look at the acting. There are going to be a slew of teenage actors, and if one of them isn't pulling his or her own weight, then that performance can discredit the entire movie. Happens all the time. Difficult balance I know, but whenever movies depend too much on computer graphics, things generally take a turn for the worse, because in those instances, little attention, if any, is given to actual acting.

Anyway, I could continue this rhetoric for days properly schooling you on movies, but like I said earlier . . . . . . . I'd rather be reading. That is, until I go see Quantum of Solace tonight. And who knows, I just might have to stand in line for a while too, but I'll be sure to leave the tux at home. Of course, only after I crush that shaken martini.

Halloween

Happy Halloween!



I hate it when this happens. . . . .

Pleasantville

I watch way too much TV. As a matter of fact, I watch so much TV that my Tivo asks me for recommendations. I think I may have to see a therapist, and by therapist, I mean the ones that hand out antidepressants for Halloween.

My TV turns itself on and off at specified times, records programs 24/7, and I'm working on getting it to make me a sandwich. Not only do I watch too many TV shows, but I can't seem to pry myself away from movies that I've seen a million times either. As many of you know I'm an avid movie watcher, and my collection, that continues to grow like an ass rash, could probably compete with your local Blockbuster. However, when you watch as much TV as I do, so many of the aforementioned movies can still be found in their original packaging collecting dust. I probably loan them out more than I actually watch them, because one of my ultimate pet peeves is talking to people who haven't seen classics. How can you possibly have an appreciation for today's movies if you haven't seen what those actors and directors have done in other works? Get with it, geesh.

But I digress, I was talking about my TV addiction. As with other addictions there usually comes a point at which the afflicted come to realize the path they are on. Drunks call this "a moment of clarity". (There's your movie reference) Well, my epiphany came to me yesterday afternoon while deciding what recorded show I should watch.

There are a plethora of programs I get sucked into, some I'll admit to and others I'll be taking to my grave (Gossip Girl, XoXo). There are some I already know will be shite, but I watch them out of sheer curiosity anyway. One such show that comes to mind is the Dallas Cheerleader tryouts. Yeah, I said it. The reason I tune into this show from time to time, is because of how serious the organization treats the auditions. You would think these bitches were trying out for the FBI. It's priceless. Along the same lines as this media masterpiece, is the Ultimate Coyote Ugly Search. There's just something about a girl in a pair of boots pouring a stiff drink that tugs at my heart strings.

Okay, and now, for the moment you've all been waiting for, the unveiling of Brown's TV lineup. Here they are in order of best entertainment value:

1. Grey's Anatomy - Awesome show, very well written. There's a perfect blend of medical mayhem, drama, and comedy. Some of the characters can be a little whiny, (I wish they would have just drowned Meredith Grey for good) but all in all, it's a well rounded nail biter. You know, there is a reason it has won both an Emmy and a Golden Globe award. I just wish they'd bring back the fiery, red headed Dr. Addison Montgomery. [sigh] Her new show, Private Practice, isn't nearly as good.

2. Fringe - Hot new show by none other than J.J. Abrams, creator of Lost. I'm really into the Sci Fi thing, but I like my science fiction to hinge on the possible. This show does exactly that. I can never wait to see the next episode.

3. Samantha Who - Holy shit! Now this Emmy winning show is hysterically funny. I know, I know, I was a little skeptical at first when my sister made me watch an episode, but let me tell you, that's all it took. Christina Applegate is knee slapper funny in this show about a total bitch who is hit by a car, gets amnesia, and becomes super nice, but still has to deal with the issues created by her former mischievous self. You don't see half of these jokes coming, which in my opinion, make this show refreshingly comical. The chemistry and banter between all the supporting characters is seamless, witty, and hilarious.

4. House - This medical drama is a little edgier, but once you get past the impossibility of how Dr. House treats his staff, (like sending them to raid a patient's apartment) it ranks right up there with the best of them. It's actually ranked the third most watched program on television. If you haven't seen at least one episode, you must be trying not to.

5. Life on Mars - Another awesome new show, with an original look, about a cop who ends up in 1973 after an accident in which he slipped into a coma. He has to deal with being a detective in a time where most of the rules haven't been made yet, catching criminals, and simultaneously searching for clues to help solve his girlfriend's murder in 2008. This show is actually a remake of one that aired two years ago in Britain.

6. Heroes - Another Science fiction show that is sort of a spin off of X-men. Basically a bunch of mutants with special powers due to genetic anomalies, discovering the extent of their abilities while trying to evade people that want them dead. I really loved the first season much more than the second, but I'm staying tuned to see what happens. I sense that they are convoluting the plot by adding too much too soon. I mean, I don't want to get dragged along to the point where I lose interest, as with Lost, but I still want to be intrigued. I hope they don't screw it up. Because really, who wouldn't want to be able to read thoughts, or hurl fire balls. Sign me up Dr. Saresh.

7. CSI, Las Vegas - Crowned the most watched program in 2002, that CBS was encouraged to create two spin offs which aren't nearly as good as the original. I think after 8 seasons, this show has reached "classic" status. Unfortunately, William Peterson (Gil Grissom) has left the show, and although I really like Lawrence Fishbourne, the Sherlock-like Grissom was what kept you watching. I haven't seen any new episodes to decide whether or not I'll stay with this one.

8. Gossip Girl - I know I'm going to take a lot of flak for this one, so I'll just prepare for the impact of mortar rounds now, but this show is intriguingly good. I'm not filthy rich, which is a prerequisite for the lives of this show's characters, but following the lives of a bunch of vengeful and insidious rich kids is kind of fun. I actually hate my sister for even getting me into this crap.

9. Boston Legal - Great show. James Spader, William Shattner, and Candice Bergen (Murphy Brown). Implausible court cases taken on by a diversely quirky Boston law firm. Funny Shit. Enough Said.

10. Survivor/Big Brother - I try to stay away from these damn quasi-reality shows, because once you watch one episode, you have to watch them all. These things will suck the life right out of you. That's right, you'll want to know who's in alliance with who, who's getting voted off, or who will win Head of House Hold. It's all very maddening. I highly recommend avoiding either of these at all costs.

Now that I've given you the main lineup, I have my two favorite shows left, plus a few honorable mentions, that I just don't have time to watch. (Give me a break people, I still need time for Football and Basketball.) My 2nd favorite show, also an Emmy award winner that can only be found on HBO, is Entourage. And only those blessed with Showtime can watch Californication. These two are meant for adult audiences only and contain nudity, sexual content, and foul language. TV heaven! I continuously hear high praises about Rome and Weeds, both of which, along with the first two I mentioned, can be rented from Block Buster. Medium, Pushing Daisies, and Eli Stone, and of course Law & Order, are all honorable mentions.

Well, I think that covers the entire gamut of television programming. What shows do you like to watch?

Chocolat

Now that October is coming to an end, the world's efforts on eradicating breast cancer will lose steam, and all the chatter about boobies will eventually turn to soft, inaudible whispers. Women's breasts will again be a thing of the past. Your very own breasts could become mere relics to which no one will gander, ornaments devoid of purpose. Once powerfully mesmerizing cleavage to become nothing more than a mere cleft, an anatomical junction of flesh. A seam.

In these times of uncertainty and economic despair, we cannot allow boobies to become faint memories. Exotic Dancers, school teachers, and stay at home moms will all feel the affects of a world where the magic and wonder of boobies becomes folklore. We must not let this travesty occur. We must fight! We must, we must, we must eat cookies! That's right, and eat them I will. Many of you know that the only thing in the universe that rivals my undying love for breasts saving breasts, is chocolate. So, I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when I discovered today that Pepperidge Farm has joined the cause to find a cure! Apparently, their founder's life was touched by breast cancer and it is in her honor that they have forged a partnership with Susan G. Komen for the cure. How elated I was to see one of my favorite cookies beautifully adorned by pink packaging. How could this have gone unnoticed for so long? Why didn't anybody tell me? All the participating cookies are being sold at Target and Wal-mart. So, what are you waiting for? Go forth and . . . . . . . eat cookies!

Zodiac

Well, since nobody could figure out the movie references from my last post, I suppose I'll have to tell you now. Not that anyone was hounding me to spill it or anything, I just figured in the midst of a an economic meltdown that people should have their movie quotes in order. Better yet, because I like to drag things out for my own twisted amusement, I will offer a couple of obnoxiously obvious clues, to assist you in providing the answers. Commencing obnoxiously obvious clue description now:

The first movie reference (rounded to the nearest decimal point) had been taken from a much larger monologue by a pet lover standing in an empty swimming pool, investigating the kidnapping of a bottle nose dolphin, or Tursiops Truncatus. Gee, I wonder who that could be.

The second, (It is my purpose to know) was said by a man who is known simply as the Key Maker. His purpose, as his name fittingly describes, is to make keys. He has keys for everything, Ducati motorcycles, Doors leading to the source, etc. Unlike some of his friends, he did not possess the ability to dodge bullets. But then again, some of his friends didn't have to.

Please tell me you know these. Pretty Please?

Bonus: I'm not questioning your powers of observation, I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

Surf's Up

I was perusing some on-line articles the other day, and I came across this gem about Car Surfing, which of course I had no choice but to comment on. I'm pretty sure I was being called upon to do so by a higher power, so I apologize in advance. Car Surfing is when a passenger of a car, or even the driver in some cases, performs stunts on the outside of the moving vehicle as if they were surfing it. The article describes that the CDC reviewed newspaper articles about Car Surfing that had been published over the last 18 years, (apparently they have that kind of time) and they found 99 articles on this riveting subject. I'm not a math whiz by any means, but by my calculations that's roughly 5.5 car surfing incidents a year, or 1 every 66.4 days. (rounded to the nearest decimal point) Of all of the reported stupidity, about 58 of those incidents ended in fatalities. In 75% of those cases, death was caused by blow to the head, from which we could also conclude that just about every other article included information about how some kid's medulla oblongata had to be scraped off of a stop sign.

The average age of the victims was 17.6 yrs old and 70% of them were also male. Surprise! If numbers hurt your head as much as they do mine, then we can further deduce that these kids were fucking stupid. What the CDC failed to investigate however, was the statistics regarding the race of these morons, the average income of the household from which they came, or perhaps the most imperative stat of all, where their fucking parents were during the conception of these brilliant ideas.

Now, I don't want to sound racist, but I don't think I would be going out on a limb if I said that the majority of these kids were probably white. And the only reason I'd say that, of course, is because the black kids were probably selling drugs and the Hispanics were working a Taco Bell drive through. I'm totally kidding, I'm pretty sure not all of them were allowed to work drive through right away. Again, I jest. The reason I know the majority of these kids were white, is because these injuries were incurred by engaging in an activity that has the word surfing in it.

It is a well known fact that 90% of African Americans don't like natural bodies of water. Of the 10% that do, 98% would rather eat fire than swim in the ocean. Conclusion, brothas don't like the ocean and wouldn't be caught dead surfing. In comparison, brown people LOVE the ocean. (I know this because it is my purpose to know) I know this because I am brown. Almost drowning in the ocean is kind of like a right of passage. That being said, most Hispanics are not huge fans of surfing, because we'd much rather swim, or play soccer on the beach. Obviously. Therefore, I can hypothesize with almost 100% certainty, that the kids participating in Car Surfing were unquestionably white. I'm not really sure what I intended to suggest by illustrating that they were Caucasian, besides that if you have white kids you should probably buy them a soccer ball . . . . . . or a helmet. You know, just in case.



note: Chinese and Indian children were excluded from these studies because they were too busy doing homework to be surveyed.

p.s.
I will be mildly impressed if you can identify both movie references. Hint: they're in parenthesis.