The American Horror Story ads had gimps coming down from the ceiling, so I had to give this one a go for the weirdness alone…and the fact that there are few things creepier than ghost twins.
I was watching some embarrassing program or other when I saw an ad for a show called Truck Stop Missouri. I figure if a show about a truck stop can get on the air, the powers that be must be looking for some terrible shows to air. Here are some that we’ve come up with.
I’ve been lucky enough to see Mr. Show’s “Hooray for America” when they came around in 2002, Louis C.K. in one of his very angry this-close to divorce shows circa 2008, Dave Attell right after they cancelled “Insomniac”, Doug Benson right after he had “made some very bad decisions pre-performance”, Brian Regan when he filled up the Crest with just about everyone in Sacramento, Mitch Hedberg a few years before he died and the spectacularly funny Paul F. Tompkins twice while he was participating in the SF Comedy Sketchfest.
Now that TV is in re-run mode, I’ve started relying on the internet and my iPod touch for entertainment. I have a few categories that I like to cover on a daily basis.
Money App: Smarty Pig – This doesn’t actually do anything fancy. In fact, it doesn’t do much at all other than track the money I’m saving up for various goals. You can set up an account on the web for as little as $25, and then choose to automatically deduct whatever amount you choose for however long you choose to save up for whatever the heck you want. Admittedly, the interest on these accounts used to be much higher. However, it’s better than stuffing it in your mattress. Plus, they have a cute little piggy bank that tells you how far along you are with your goals.
(For any newcomers, a quick word: My wife, Kris, writes a column here every Friday under the heading “Lady Business.” — Chris)
I’ve never been cool a day in my life. I’ve been known to have my very occasional moments of coolness, but they end in a heartbeat. One moment, I’m letting a witty rejoinder fly. The next, I’m typing the phrase “witty rejoinder”. It’s tragic, really.
There was a time in college (and slightly after) where I wanted to be cool so badly that I did the unthinkable. I dated a hipster…for seven long years. Imagine living for seven years talking about Einstürzende Neubauten, Beat Poets, Brian Eno, Peter Greenaway and David Lynch. We would watch Robocop or Predator, but only ironically. It was a dark time.
When I look back, I see that Peter Greenaway’s movies are insanely beautiful, and late 1980’s/early 1990’s Industrial music was pretty darned awesome. I just felt like I was living in a box. Don’t put Robocop in a corner!
Summertime is a real snooze-fest for TV watchers such as myself. Last Summer, we cut cable and brought it back just in time for It’s Always Sunny. We kept it this year because it was such a hassle to connect it again. However, the offerings are pretty slim out there when one absolutely, positively refuses to watch shows of the America’s Got Talent variety.
I’ve come up with some games to make the best of a sad situation and keep myself entertained without having to actually leave the house, live my life or be social.
Chris and I got home from a family visit Tuesday night to a blinking answering machine. My nephew, Shane, was killed in an accident. He was a talented artist, a bicyclist, a drummer and the only person I ever knew who could pull off suspenders. He was 27. In the last few years, he’d been sending me little pieces of art out of the blue. In April, he sent me a small owl necklace made of metal that has moving wings. I’m not sure how he knew that I love owls. Perhaps it was a lucky guess.
I’m usually into comedy, but days like this draw me to sad movies. Here are some of my favorites:
I’m surrounded by dudes. If I carried around a bat, I could swing it and hit a guy at nearly every moment of every day. I might blame my current job in a mostly male dominated field, but I’ve been this way most of my life. At this point, I feel more comfortable being teased than I do having a real conversation. In short, I’ve been punched in the arm a lot.
So, it should come as no surprise that I love dude humor.
The League, FX – I had avoided this the first season because I really didn’t understand what it was about. They had these odd advertisements for the show that were like a beer commercial or something. Had they just shown actual clips from the show, I’m sure I would have watched much sooner. It’s basically a story of five guys in a fantasy football league who have known each other since high school. It’s a non-stop onslaught of insults and jackassery. In my favorite scene, Kevin gets up at a party to give a speech about how much his wife means to him. “Love is a journey, love is a committment…” then he gets all choked up, and his wife cries because she’s so touched. Later, they show a video from a few years before where he’s telling his friend how to give a romantic speech. Love is a blank, love is a blank and then on the third one, you just can’t get it out. Busted.
(For any newcomers: My wife, Kris, writes a weekly column under the heading “Lady Business”, giving her perspective on movies, television, pop-culture, and in this instance, video games!)
My attempt at playing L.A. Noire ended in tragedy…more than a few times.
I can only really get my mind around two video game controllers. The first being the Atari 2600 joystick, because the thing had a single stick and button. The second being the Wii controller, because if you want to move forward you just push your arm forward. Both are beautifully simple. L.A. Noire for X-box means that I’m stuck attempting to click on a whole host of buttons, all of which seem to be super sensitive.
On Friday night, Chris manned the controller while I made the choices on where to go and what to do. We solved the cases fairly quickly, though I felt squirmy about calling a suspect a liar even though they were clearly lying. Turns out my wussy non-confrontational side calls the shots in video games as well as real life.
When I first moved to California in 1989, I remember my college friends talking about Wynona Ryder. One had an acting class with her, and the other was her walking partner at high-school graduation. (He was told to move out of the shot by some photographers, and was bitter about it.) When I see her in a movie, I’m always oddly aware that she’s my age.
Imagine my horror last year when I saw her in the Star Trek movie as Spock’s mom. She was covered in makeup, but still. Sheesh! Then, I see Black Swan where she is described as old and washed up. For all I know, ballet dancers are considered old at 15. I still felt the hit.