Clearly I haven't gotten the hang of "posting regularly". Ahem.
As I've been basking in unemployment (by choice!) since the move to New Jersey, I've watched quite a few movies. In the absence of not having much interesting personal material to go through, here are some quick reviews. Please understand that my opinions are absolutely correct, and if you disagree with me, YOU are the one who's wrong. :)
"The Hills Have Eyes 2" (1985):
This is a movie that really needs no review. I DVRed this off of cable, as the programming guide said it was the sequel to the new one, but it wasn't. Oh, boy, it really, really wasn't. Not that I'd have been expecting too much from that one either, but anyway ... I taped it, so I watched it. This is ridiculous filmmaking, and there's nothing remotely scary about it. How do we approach ranking what's more ridiculous in this movie? "Cannibals" running around in the desert? A blind "heroine" (who allegedly has ESP or some other half-thought out mental powers) escaping imminent death from said cannibals (who look like the Berserker from the late 1980s WWF, minus the Viking helmet. And minus Mr. Fuji.)?
Oh, no. Those aren't even close.
Let's put it this way, there's a flashback scene ... from a dog. Yes, that's correct - the dog has a flashback scene.
This movie is virtually unwatchable. I watched it for you, so now you don't have to. Merry Christmas, and you're welcome.
"Fantastic Four 2: Rise of the Silver Surfer" (2007):
What's worse than choosing to watch this horrible movie? Having to watch it on a cross-country flight, because even if you're not interested in watching it, your eyes sort of flutter up to the screen. And what's worse than that? Having to watch it again a week later on another flight.
Just because Jessica Alba is ridiculously hot doesn't mean this movie needed to be made.
Poor Brian Posehn, who shouldn't have to take crappy bit roles in films like this just to stay active. He had a bit role in the infinitely better "The Devil's Rejects", which I would rather watch in a room full of nuns than watch F4-2 again. BAD MOVIE.
"The Devil's Rejects" (2005):
While I'm on the subject of Brian Posehn (see above), he's in this. Not for long, though. Based on that, I'm sure you can figure out that something bad happens to him.
But the movie itself ... see, if Quentin Tarantino's terrible and almost unwatchable "Death Proof" had been replaced in "Grindhouse" by a slightly shortened version of "The Devil's Rejects" ... man, that would have been a great movie! This film is a dusty, sweaty, uncomfortably claustrophobic terror that harkens back to something that would have been made in the late 1970s (and the expertly chosen classic southern rock soundtrack completely adds to that experience). It's not easy to watch, and though the characters are comical in the extreme sociopathic manners, the way the story unfolds (and the way it's told) left me unable to turn the movie off - and trust me, plenty of people will want to. It's not for everyone - not even close. But if you "get" Rob Zombie and can deal with blood (lots and lots of it), you should give this a shot. I wouldn't call this a horror movie, per se, and it's definitely not "torture porn", but it's a rough one. Still, better than FF2 and worth a rental if you're feeling adventurous and have a strong stomach.
"Hostel" (2005):
Ahh, now here's a bit of actual "torture porn"! I caught this one, again, thanks to the wonders of DVR. I'm glad I missed it in the theater. This is not a terrible movie - I'll save that distinction for Eli Roth's first "movie", "Cabin Fever", which is actually beyond terrible. If "Cabin Fever" was a giant, steaming piece of shit (and it was), "Hostel" is a day old cat turd properly deposited in the cat box. It's still poop, but significantly more attractive poop (comparitively, at least).
The story itself goes nowhere for the first 45 minutes or so, and the more likeable and sympathetic of the main characters is offed (drills through the shoulders, other bad stuff) instead of the guy I kinda wanted to get hacked up, but whatever. If you say "Halloween", the name "Laurie Strode" comes to mind. Say "Scream", and you might even remember "Sidney Prescott". Say "Hostel", and all you'll ever say is "that dude from 'Hostel'". You tell me what that means.
Once we find out what's going on, there's a realization that maybe there could be an actual movie in there somewhere, but given that freakin' ELI ROTH is directing, all hope is lost. I want to make an Uwe Boll joke, but I'm tired.
So yeah, bad movie, though very, VERY gory. Still, it was better than "Cabin Fever".
"Saw II" (2005):
See above. Better than it's predecessor, to be sure, but this movie didn't really need to be made. I'm admittedly a late-comer to the "Saw" franchise (I finally saw the first one only a few months ago), but to me this movie (and others like it) are made only because a group of people got together and said "what's the grossest way we can kill someone onscreen, and we'll write a script around it". There's no suspense, and you know everyone's going to die, so why bother watching it? Come to think of it, why did I bother watching it? I knew the first one was really bad and COMPLETELY OVERRATED BY TEENS WHO WOULDN'T KNOW WHAT A GOOD HORROR MOVIE IS IF IT BIT THEM ON THEIR ASSES, YET THEY SPEND THEIR PARENTS' HARD EARNED MONEY GOING TO SEE THIS GARBAGE, WHICH ONLY ENCOURAGES THE STUDIOS TO FUND MORE UNNECESSARY SEQUELS.
Sorry, was I yelling there? Movies like this are made for people who shop for their "nice clothes" at Hot Topic. Like I said, I watched it anyway. My bad. I have nobody to blame but myself.
The acting is horrible, but rather than blame any of the actors, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt that their performances were "hommages" to the first "Saw", in which Cary Elwes gives one of the absolute worst performances by an actor whose work I was previously familiar with. Seriously, he might just as well have been reading from pages of the script on-camera.
This whole thing is ridiculous. If you like these movies, you're wrong. Sorry. You just are.
"Rescue Dawn" (2007):
Hey, and actual, honest-to-gosh real movie for grown-ups with taste! Christian Bale is his usual awesome self as a pilot shot down 40 minutes into his first flight over Vietnam. Taken prisoner, he's held with 4 others (including Steve Zahn, who only overacts a little bit) until they plot their escape. I had no idea this was based on actual events and on a real pilot, which makes the story that much better. If you like war movies, you'll enjoy this. If you like Christian Bale movies, you'll probably enjoy this. If you like movies starring incredibly emaciated leads who don't wear shirts and highlight their rib cages through their skin, you'll LOVE this movie. Definitely worth a rental.
"Rocky Balboa" (2006):
I'm absolutely stunned that I'm writing these words: This is a very, very good movie (perhaps the second best in the series, after the first one), and I highly recommend it to anyone with a passing interest in this story arc. It's the most "human" movie in the Rocky series since the first, and Sylvester Stallone apparently still has some heart left in him, as he wrote and directed this film (as he did with the first movie). I had relatively low expectations and was unprepared for liking this as much as I did. Good job, Sylvester. If this is how Rocky goes out, he'll be going out in style. Now shelf the Rambo thing and we can all be happy! It's a Christmas miracle!
"Clerks 2" (2006):
Surprisingly good, but not to be watched with your parents - trust me. There's a thing with a donkey, and more of Jay Mewes than one would ever want to see. However, this is worth watching for the Star Wars vs. Lord of the Rings debate alone.
Some people don't like Kevin Smith movies. I do think that he tries too hard on occasion, but more often than not, I find myself laughing at this dialogue. If I lived in his verbose world, though, I'd probably walk around doing the "hurry it up" signal with my hands all day. But whatever brings Randall and Dante back once in a while is fine by me.
***
OK, so apparently I'll watch any crap gore movie that comes my way. So here's my surprise: my favorite movies of 2007 (excepting "No Country For Old Men", which I haven't seen yet) actually features one "gore" movie: "28 Weeks Later" (#4 on my list, as I recall). My three favorites of the year, though, were "Ratatouille", Danny Boyle's "Sunshine", and "Children of Men".
Special bonus points awarded to (and then taken away from) Clive Owen, who starred in both "Children of Men" (one of my favorites of the year) and "Shoot 'Em Up", the first film I actually walked out of in I don't even know how long. Stay away from "Shoot 'Em Up". It's horrible. Rent the criminally overlooked "Inside Man" instead, and you'll be much happier (seriously, it's a fantastic, intelligent crime drama that more people should know about).
Worst two films of 2007 then would be "Shoot 'Em Up" and "Fantastic Four 2", I guess.
Discuss amongst yourselves.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Chiller Theater, WWE Smackdown vs. Raw game
Quick update: Hello Dave E, who I just realized has been leaving comments for me here on the blog. I owe you a personal e-mail at some point, I know, on account of I'm a horrible friend. That said, everyone else can line up behind him, because I've been a horrible friend to everyone, frankly, as I move closer to being a complete shut-in.
As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted ... wait, ten days ago? Ten days? Seriously?
What a tailspin of nothingness I seem to be stuck in ... sheesh.
The sad thing is, for the most part, nothing of interest has really happened in the last ten days to write about ... well, almost nothing. What did happen is pretty cool, but more on that in a moment.
Anyway, as I was saying, we walked into the lobby of the hotel only to be surrounded by various social misfits and some of society's odds and ends (my kinda people, actually) who were shelling out probably hundreds of dollars each to meet (semi) celebrities and gather photos and autographs.
Unknowingly, as we did not book the hotel ourselves, we had a room reserved in the very same hotel playing host to Chiller Theater's "October Extravaganza".
The complete guest list is HERE, but some of the highlights of those in attendance:
The best part, of course, is that there's another one in May. This time, I'll be prepared! Perhaps I'll wear my 1991 "Clash of the Titans" tour t-shirt, just to make sure I fit in.
****
OK, so the neatest thing to happen since last I wrote was that two days ago this year's WWE video game, Smackdown vs. Raw 2008, came out. I've barely played it, because I'm fairly horrible at combat/fighting games, but I have a vested personal interest in getting into it some more.
Thanks to my good friend Bryan, who I thank at every turn (and will continue to do so, long after the game has faded from everyone's memory), I actually wrote some of the commentary and portions of the in-game WWE Magazine "articles" and GM "voice mails" that are used to propel the story lines along.
In fact, because the game expanded to three brands and the announce teams are different from last year, I supplied approximately 4000 lines of dialog that was to be included as "new" commentary. From what I've read on-line and been told from others in the know, unfortunately, THQ apparently had difficulties scheduling the WWE talent to do the recording sessions, so a lot of what I wrote wasn't included in the game. So far as I know, at least. Again, I haven't played through enough to know what was or wasn't used.
If you hear JBL referring to midgets flying with balloons (a Howard Stern reference, for those not in the know) or Watson and Crick (look them up - you should know that one), that was me.
In fact, I wrote a lot of really great stuff, to toot my own horn. Unfortunately, I have a confidentiality agreement with THQ that prevents me from posting all of my work, which I'd love to do because I'm really proud of it. If all goes well, maybe they'll use it in the 2009 version.
So I'm kinda bummed about that.
I'm also a bit disappointed that when I opened the game booklet to look for my name in the credits ... there are no credits!
All of the work, all of the late hours ... and my name's not in the booklet. Granted, nobody's names are in the booklet (not Bryan's, not the game developers', not the programmers'), so I shouldn't feel slighted. It's just kind of a let down, I suppose.
That said, working on the game was a great experience and one I hope to have again, if anyone will hire me as a free-lancer (hint! hint! Send me an e-mail! I'm yours, folks! Just let me know what you need!). I had a blast working on it. Plus, I made some extra cash on the deal, which never hurts, and I have the contract and the spreadsheets as proof that I actually did work on the game and am not spinning tales.
The other kick in the pants is that when you put the game in the console, you can't check the credits there, either. Apparently you have to play through and unlock them, which is really weird, but whatever. As soon as I can beat the game, perhaps my name will be in the scroll and then I can take a screen shot or something.
Anyway, there you go! In the big picture, I did a small fraction of the writing for the game, but it's my first official writing credit, and I'm super-proud of myself, I hafta say.
So check it out, if you're into that sort of thing.
***
Speaking of video games, the reasons I haven't played S vs R more yet are threefold:
Guitar Hero III - I'm on the last level on the "hard" setting, but the solo on "Number of the Beast" is killing me, the rhythm section on "Reign in Blood" is killing me, and the pure metalicious speed of "One" is killing me. Literally, my right wrist/forearm start to hurt when I try to get through the duh-duh-duh-duh-DUH duh-duh-duh-duh-DUH part about 75% of the way through the song. Surprisingly (?), I'm kicking ass on the "Cult of Personality" solo. Go me.
Madden 2008 - I'm pretty bad, apparently. I play online almost exclusively and usually get my butt handed to me, but I really don't care. The game is just so good. My record right now is approximately 38-80 or something along those lines, because I'll pick one of my favored teams (Jacksonville, Pittsburgh) and the knucklehead I'm playing against waits until the last second and changes his team to New England. Grr. Now, I love the Pats and always have (I lived through the two-win Scott Zolak years, so I've earned my stripes), but they're ridiculous in that game. It's like having a team full of Tecmo Bowl Bo Jacksons. You can't stop them unless your opponent doesn't know what he's doing - and as a result, if I earn a lead late into the first half, there's usually a great chance the dude I'm playing against will just quit out of frustration. Anyway, if you're a gamer, look me up online and beef up your record . I never quit, no matter how bad the beating is. I have a zero-percent quit rate. :)
Beautiful Katamari - awesome video game weirdness (at a low, low price!). The Katamari games are the first ones I'll recommend to non-gamers looking for a reason to pick up a controller or to parents who want to buy their kids non-violent games. Somewhere down the road I'll have to write an entire post about how great this game is, because it deserves it. It really does.
***
For whatever it's worth, the aftertaste of iced Dunkin Donuts Hazelnut coffee with cream and Splenda tastes a bit like soggy fake-buttered popcorn from a second-run movie theater. Maybe it's just me.
As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted ... wait, ten days ago? Ten days? Seriously?
What a tailspin of nothingness I seem to be stuck in ... sheesh.
The sad thing is, for the most part, nothing of interest has really happened in the last ten days to write about ... well, almost nothing. What did happen is pretty cool, but more on that in a moment.
Anyway, as I was saying, we walked into the lobby of the hotel only to be surrounded by various social misfits and some of society's odds and ends (my kinda people, actually) who were shelling out probably hundreds of dollars each to meet (semi) celebrities and gather photos and autographs.
Unknowingly, as we did not book the hotel ourselves, we had a room reserved in the very same hotel playing host to Chiller Theater's "October Extravaganza".The complete guest list is HERE, but some of the highlights of those in attendance:
- Val Kilmer (I thought he was still famous? Still, the star of "The Salton Sea", "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang", and the classic "Tombstone"? In person in Parsippany? What's going on here?)
- Henry Winkler
- Gary Coleman
- Elvira, Mistress of the Dark
- Linda Blair
- Chyna
- Frank Stallone (!)
- Gail Kim and Christy Hemme (if I were better looking and not married ... and taller. And famous. Oh, my, goodness ...)
- Tito Santana
- Ray Parker Jr.
The best part, of course, is that there's another one in May. This time, I'll be prepared! Perhaps I'll wear my 1991 "Clash of the Titans" tour t-shirt, just to make sure I fit in.
****
OK, so the neatest thing to happen since last I wrote was that two days ago this year's WWE video game, Smackdown vs. Raw 2008, came out. I've barely played it, because I'm fairly horrible at combat/fighting games, but I have a vested personal interest in getting into it some more.Thanks to my good friend Bryan, who I thank at every turn (and will continue to do so, long after the game has faded from everyone's memory), I actually wrote some of the commentary and portions of the in-game WWE Magazine "articles" and GM "voice mails" that are used to propel the story lines along.
In fact, because the game expanded to three brands and the announce teams are different from last year, I supplied approximately 4000 lines of dialog that was to be included as "new" commentary. From what I've read on-line and been told from others in the know, unfortunately, THQ apparently had difficulties scheduling the WWE talent to do the recording sessions, so a lot of what I wrote wasn't included in the game. So far as I know, at least. Again, I haven't played through enough to know what was or wasn't used.
If you hear JBL referring to midgets flying with balloons (a Howard Stern reference, for those not in the know) or Watson and Crick (look them up - you should know that one), that was me.
In fact, I wrote a lot of really great stuff, to toot my own horn. Unfortunately, I have a confidentiality agreement with THQ that prevents me from posting all of my work, which I'd love to do because I'm really proud of it. If all goes well, maybe they'll use it in the 2009 version.
So I'm kinda bummed about that.
I'm also a bit disappointed that when I opened the game booklet to look for my name in the credits ... there are no credits!
All of the work, all of the late hours ... and my name's not in the booklet. Granted, nobody's names are in the booklet (not Bryan's, not the game developers', not the programmers'), so I shouldn't feel slighted. It's just kind of a let down, I suppose.
That said, working on the game was a great experience and one I hope to have again, if anyone will hire me as a free-lancer (hint! hint! Send me an e-mail! I'm yours, folks! Just let me know what you need!). I had a blast working on it. Plus, I made some extra cash on the deal, which never hurts, and I have the contract and the spreadsheets as proof that I actually did work on the game and am not spinning tales.
The other kick in the pants is that when you put the game in the console, you can't check the credits there, either. Apparently you have to play through and unlock them, which is really weird, but whatever. As soon as I can beat the game, perhaps my name will be in the scroll and then I can take a screen shot or something.
Anyway, there you go! In the big picture, I did a small fraction of the writing for the game, but it's my first official writing credit, and I'm super-proud of myself, I hafta say.
So check it out, if you're into that sort of thing.
***
Speaking of video games, the reasons I haven't played S vs R more yet are threefold:
Guitar Hero III - I'm on the last level on the "hard" setting, but the solo on "Number of the Beast" is killing me, the rhythm section on "Reign in Blood" is killing me, and the pure metalicious speed of "One" is killing me. Literally, my right wrist/forearm start to hurt when I try to get through the duh-duh-duh-duh-DUH duh-duh-duh-duh-DUH part about 75% of the way through the song. Surprisingly (?), I'm kicking ass on the "Cult of Personality" solo. Go me.
Madden 2008 - I'm pretty bad, apparently. I play online almost exclusively and usually get my butt handed to me, but I really don't care. The game is just so good. My record right now is approximately 38-80 or something along those lines, because I'll pick one of my favored teams (Jacksonville, Pittsburgh) and the knucklehead I'm playing against waits until the last second and changes his team to New England. Grr. Now, I love the Pats and always have (I lived through the two-win Scott Zolak years, so I've earned my stripes), but they're ridiculous in that game. It's like having a team full of Tecmo Bowl Bo Jacksons. You can't stop them unless your opponent doesn't know what he's doing - and as a result, if I earn a lead late into the first half, there's usually a great chance the dude I'm playing against will just quit out of frustration. Anyway, if you're a gamer, look me up online and beef up your record . I never quit, no matter how bad the beating is. I have a zero-percent quit rate. :)
Beautiful Katamari - awesome video game weirdness (at a low, low price!). The Katamari games are the first ones I'll recommend to non-gamers looking for a reason to pick up a controller or to parents who want to buy their kids non-violent games. Somewhere down the road I'll have to write an entire post about how great this game is, because it deserves it. It really does.
***
For whatever it's worth, the aftertaste of iced Dunkin Donuts Hazelnut coffee with cream and Splenda tastes a bit like soggy fake-buttered popcorn from a second-run movie theater. Maybe it's just me.
Monday, November 05, 2007
bored but lazy; day one, part one
For a guy who currently doesn't have a job, has no friends in the state, and can't reach many "fun" places without a car (when Nicole's off at work), I sure manage not to write a whole hell of a lot.
Sheesh. I'm losing it. Really. Any "edge" I may have had seems to be fading, I fear. I'm sure I can whip myself back into shape with a little effort, but honestly ... every day starts to blur at this point.
I shouldn't complain, of course, because I'm very lucky and I realize it. I managed to save enough money not to be destitute, and Nicole's been great about letting me have all the time and space I need to find a job I'm interested in, given that I've moved cross-country for her career twice now. Still, I need some structure. I need some routine. And man oh man, do I need to find a local gym. Even if I put on my best rock star attitude, jumping around playing Guitar Hero is a sad replacement for actual physical activity (regardless of how fun it actually is).
The thing we're noticing most - and the thing that bothers us most - is the ridiculous change in the cost of living that we're experiencing. Milk is $4.75 or so per gallon. You don't want to know about Orange Juice. And the electric company ...
See, New Jersey's electric system was apparently deregulated a few years ago, which in theory should provide customers with choices regarding who they want to use as their service. Except us, of course, because we live where only one company services our neighborhood. We got our first partial bill (two weeks plus the installation charge), and it was almost as much as our regular Portland bill for a month. The kilowatt hour charge is nearly twice as much, and then there are fees and all this other nonsense ... seriously, it'd be reason alone not to buy a house here.
The neighborhoods around Morristown seem really nice and quiet, and despite the overload of Yankees fan everyone seems incredibly nice, but I can't see why anyone would want to stick around these parts, based solely on the cost of everyday life.
Which, of course, only compounds my issue of needing employment, which I'm just not motivated enough to find just yet ... though I can tell the novelty of sitting around watching DVDs and listening to Howard Stern all day is wearing off.
***
A quick story about day one in New Jersey:
The flight from Portland (via Denver) arrived in Newark at about 5:00, roughly on time and just in time for rush hour traffic. Of course, we're fresh off the boat and don't know where we're going anyway, so slower traffic wasn't necessarily a bad thing at that point. We went to the rental agency office to pick up the car that had been reserved for us, but the guy at the desk couldn't locate the reservation in his computer, so Nicole grabbed her printout of the itinerary and rental info, and sure enough, she does have a reservation - in Denver. She didn't make these arrangements herself, of course, and whoever booked everything for her didn't notice, apparently, that we were actually not planning to drive to our final destination from Denver, as lovely a trip as that may have been.
Off to a great start.
Traffic, as expected, was backed up ... right at our exit. The other exits seemed OK, but ours was slooow. If we weren't noobs to the area, perhaps we'd have known alternate routes. We were at Googlemap's mercy, though, so by the time we finally got to the Parsippany Hilton to rest for the night, we were beyond thrilled to find that the parking lot was overfilled, the lobby was teeming with an unusual collection of humanity, and we could barely walk to the elevators with our bags.
You'll find out why in the next post.
Sheesh. I'm losing it. Really. Any "edge" I may have had seems to be fading, I fear. I'm sure I can whip myself back into shape with a little effort, but honestly ... every day starts to blur at this point.
I shouldn't complain, of course, because I'm very lucky and I realize it. I managed to save enough money not to be destitute, and Nicole's been great about letting me have all the time and space I need to find a job I'm interested in, given that I've moved cross-country for her career twice now. Still, I need some structure. I need some routine. And man oh man, do I need to find a local gym. Even if I put on my best rock star attitude, jumping around playing Guitar Hero is a sad replacement for actual physical activity (regardless of how fun it actually is).
The thing we're noticing most - and the thing that bothers us most - is the ridiculous change in the cost of living that we're experiencing. Milk is $4.75 or so per gallon. You don't want to know about Orange Juice. And the electric company ...
See, New Jersey's electric system was apparently deregulated a few years ago, which in theory should provide customers with choices regarding who they want to use as their service. Except us, of course, because we live where only one company services our neighborhood. We got our first partial bill (two weeks plus the installation charge), and it was almost as much as our regular Portland bill for a month. The kilowatt hour charge is nearly twice as much, and then there are fees and all this other nonsense ... seriously, it'd be reason alone not to buy a house here.
The neighborhoods around Morristown seem really nice and quiet, and despite the overload of Yankees fan everyone seems incredibly nice, but I can't see why anyone would want to stick around these parts, based solely on the cost of everyday life.
Which, of course, only compounds my issue of needing employment, which I'm just not motivated enough to find just yet ... though I can tell the novelty of sitting around watching DVDs and listening to Howard Stern all day is wearing off.
***
A quick story about day one in New Jersey:
The flight from Portland (via Denver) arrived in Newark at about 5:00, roughly on time and just in time for rush hour traffic. Of course, we're fresh off the boat and don't know where we're going anyway, so slower traffic wasn't necessarily a bad thing at that point. We went to the rental agency office to pick up the car that had been reserved for us, but the guy at the desk couldn't locate the reservation in his computer, so Nicole grabbed her printout of the itinerary and rental info, and sure enough, she does have a reservation - in Denver. She didn't make these arrangements herself, of course, and whoever booked everything for her didn't notice, apparently, that we were actually not planning to drive to our final destination from Denver, as lovely a trip as that may have been.
Off to a great start.
Traffic, as expected, was backed up ... right at our exit. The other exits seemed OK, but ours was slooow. If we weren't noobs to the area, perhaps we'd have known alternate routes. We were at Googlemap's mercy, though, so by the time we finally got to the Parsippany Hilton to rest for the night, we were beyond thrilled to find that the parking lot was overfilled, the lobby was teeming with an unusual collection of humanity, and we could barely walk to the elevators with our bags.
You'll find out why in the next post.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Tacos and Schilling
Edit #2: Taco-gate - the fall-out begins.
I mention it because I posted this on the Dear Leader messageboard yesterday, regarding Royce Clayton:
I can't prove it, of course, but I'm convinced that Clayton was paid to have that conversation in the dugout. It's such an unimportant topic during the most important time of the year for these guys, and I can't imagine it coming up in the course of normal conversation under those circumstances for those guys. I could be wrong, but my gut tells me otherwise.
It was shameless and embarrassing, at any rate - perhaps even more embarrassing than Joe Buck having to read that "Sexiest Fan Alive" promo nonsense.
Edit #1: photo from Boston.com added
I'm so glad Jacoby Elsbury stole that base, because now - I hope - we no longer have to hear about that freakin' free taco thing during the World Series. I'm all for shameless exploitation, but by god, people - make it clever! If the Trojan had a free giveaway during the NBA finals, for instance, THAT would be clever.
I think it would be great if everyone went out, got their food, and sent it to:
Joe Buck
P.O. Box 11669
Knoxville, TN 37939-1669
**
If we've seen the end of Curt Schilling in a Red Sox uniform, let me be among the first to say thank you. I don't agree with the dude's personal politics, and I kinda wish he's shut his trap now and then, but he left what he had out on the field and came up big when it mattered most.
But he ain't worth $13M/year anymore, that's for sure. Maybe we can trade for him in late August every year, but I can't stand seeing the guy lumber through 5 runs in 6.2 innings against Kansas City every May.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Live shows uploaded!
For anyone who is a fan of Buffalo Tom, The Dismemberment Plan, or Orbit (and if you aren't, you should be), check these shows and get your blank CDs ready.
Buffalo Tom @ TT The Bear's, 9/27-28/2002
Dismemberment Plan @ The Middle East Downstairs, 3/17/02
Orbit @ TT The Bear's, 3/3/02
Buffalo Tom @ TT The Bear's, 9/27-28/2002
Dismemberment Plan @ The Middle East Downstairs, 3/17/02
Orbit @ TT The Bear's, 3/3/02
evolution
I'm guessing 1977? '78? Thirty years later, and I really don't dress too differently.
Awkward high-school years. I had hair. Beautiful, beautiful hair. I have no idea what's up with the balloons, though.
1996, I'm sure of it. Fenway was opened to the public to walk around the field. This is me at the Monster.
1999 @ at the Egg Dome in Tokyo, Japan. This is probably the most attractive photo of me ever taken. My gut's sucked in pretty well, and my receding hairline is covered by my hat. And as you'll see from this and two of the pictures below, leaning on railings is clearly my pose of choice. Sexy!
1994 @ PGE Park, Portland OR.
2005 @ Madame Tussaud's in Las Vegas, with Ben Affleck's surprisingly Varitek-esque statue.
1995 @ Safeco Field, Seattle WA. The other side of this Jersey is the number 39 with "GREENWELL" spelled out across the shoulders. Thanks, eBay!
the relocation, donuts, and the sox
What follows is my first real blog entry in probably four years, so I'm rusty and boring as shit. Be forewarned. It'll get better (because I doubt this can be worse, unless I post drunk, which I should do someday when I'm really, REALLY bored).
***
I am settling in, slowly but surely.
First of all, I miss Portland. Actually, first of all, I still miss Boston, but having finally gotten used to west coast life, I really miss Portland - especially its dramatically cheaper cost of living.
That said, my neighborhood is great - quiet townhouses surrounded by trees and lawns (except for my neighbor's front door, which apparently sticks, as it's slammed shut REPEATEDLY every night. Not that I notice.). There's gotta be some kind of Wisteria Lane-ish scandal around here somewhere. It's too quiet for there not to be. Or we're built on an Indian burial ground. Take your pick.
There's a Dunkin Donuts within walking distance - something sorely lacking in Portland. On the other hand, if you go in on the weekend, there's a line of 8-10 people, each yelling over the person in front of him trying to get out the door as quickly as possible. Mounds of sugar make people a bit more aggressive, I suppose. I'll take it, though, especially since it's open 24 hours and has Chocolate Cream donuts readily available. For those not in the know, Chocolate Cream donuts are like eating a sugar coated donut filled with pudding. They're horrible for you, and they sit in your stomach like a bowling ball, but for non-athletes like me, they go down nice and tasty, and with little regret.
There's also a Starbucks, but it's not a store, just one of the kind you find tucked inside the corner of a Supermarket. I've been hesitant to go there because I'm afraid this mutant offspring of a coffee stand will somehow not make the product right, but mostly because the novelty of Dunkin being available to me again hasn't worn off yet (and likely won't for some time to come). Back in Portland, Starbucks are literally found every other block in some areas (much in the same way that Dunkins is spaced out here in the northeast).
The biggest change so far, aside from being temporarily unemployed and not knowing a single person in this entire state other than Nicole, is that we're officially in the suburbs. I'm a city person. Always have been. When I lived in Boston, I walked everywhere. When I lived in Portland, I walked everywhere. I can walk here, too ... but there's really nowhere to go (aside from you know where, which could get dangerous). Given enough wandering time, I'm sure I'll find someplace good to explore. I hope.
On the plus side, as compared to Portland, I haven't run across a single panhandler or kid with magic marker designs on his (or her) face asking for change. Foot-for-foot, Portland is officially the beggingest city I've ever seen. It was always tough adjusting and dealing with that whole side of life: I'm far from rich, but I always have a couple of bucks in my pocket. While I want to be generous and try to help those who need help, there's a degree of frustration in knowing that many of these people refuse to help even themselves to get out of that lifestyle. Anyway, point being: I'm not harassed every 25 feet here like I was back in Pioneer Square.
***
We're still sort of living out of boxes. Lots of our stuff is unpacked, but we still have maybe 10 boxes of who knows what (DVDs and books, probably) that need homes. I really thought that I had weeded out the junk from my collection before packing, but I apparently just have too much stuff. I swear I'm not a pack rat - at least I like to think I'm not - but getting rid of books, for instance, seems so heartbreaking sometimes, even if they're getting sold back to a used store or being given to Goodwill. And the shelves full of books I've accumulated, some still unread, make me feel guilty too. So I can't win: if I keep them, I feel bad for hoarding them and then not using them, but if I give them away ... And then there are all of my t-shirts. I hold on to this stuff as if they're valuable, or could be someday, no matter how beaten up and ratty they may be, as if they'll be my version of all the baseball cards everyone's parents had but "wish they hadn't thrown out." Somehow I doubt my early 90s Urge Overkill t-shirt with the stretched out neck or the Replacements one that really highlights my manboobs will equate to a '65 Mantle card, but there's always the chance. Right? I'm not the crazy one here, right?
But the boxes, so full of ... who knows what. I'm afraid I tossed out stuff I wanted and kept embarrassing pieces of my life's former collections, because I keep coming across crazy crap I know I don't need. My Cactus Jack action figures are great (obviously!), but there's no need for me to have kept the Darren Drosdov one. I'm just saying.
So there's all of this crap lying around taking up space and will probably end up in storage, so I'll get to pay for the privilege of not using junk that I could probably get a whole three dollars for on eBay. This is why I likely won't retire a millionaire. (Specifically this, because otherwise, I'd have it made, I'm sure.)
***
Speaking of clutter and things I'll never use, thanks to Verizon FIOS, our new cable and internet company, I have a ridiculously fast internet connection, which makes collecting live recordings via BitTorrent so much easier. I have literally hundreds of DVDs worth of archived audio and video, and though I couldn't possibly take it all in, I keep adding to it. It's my addiction, I suppose. I don't do drugs or smoke, so it's collecting bootlegs and drinking coffee, I guess. Heaven forbid I miss some weird cover song by the Black Crowes.
***
My Red Sox. My sweet, sweet Red Sox.
There was a nice group of fellow Nation members back in Portland, but I find myself deep in the heart of Yankee country now. I wore my replica Mike Greenwell jersey to IKEA this weekend and could feel the heated, pointy glances of a hundred beady (and jealous) eyes as I strolled through aisles filled with the roughly 23,385 kinds of lamps they sell.
Watching the game last night, Nicole said she felt bad for the Indians. She could see the sadness on their faces. She's a good sport about my obsession, but since she's not as die-hard as I am, she doesn't quite understand that this game will leave every fan angry and bitter at some point. As rough as it is for Indians fans, they need to enjoy the fact that they got there. While the players and their fans might be disappointed to have lost, imaging being a Royals fan, or a Devil Rays fan (if there are any). All a fan can ask is that his or her team of choice is competitive and entertaining, and Cleveland was both this year (and will probably continue to be for years to come).
Don't feel bad for them, I told her, because they're suffering. We suffered too, for many, many years. I never asked anyone to feel sorry for me (pity me, maybe) for being a Red Sox fan, because I knew what I was getting into by embracing the team. And I know that, had the Indians won, nobody would be feeling bad for me, for Manny, for J.D. Drew, or for anyone else.
In the end, it's just a game. Someone wins, someone loses. I'm glad we're on the winning side, but after 2004, I don't think I'd have gotten sick over it had we not made it. "We", as if I had anything to do with it personally. That's a tough mentality to break: the whole "we" won when things go well, but "they" lost when things don't.
Anyway, though my optimism may sometimes waver, my faith never does. I mean, this team has a certifiable lunatic for a closer, a churchy grizzled righthander with a Frankenfoot, a firstbaseman with a giant head and a sweating problem, a left fielder who probably doesn't know what day it is, a 13-year-old tobacco-chewing second baseman, a shortstop with the physique of Oil Can Boyd, a centerfielder named after a cereal, a right fielder who nobody likes (except for one game) wearing the number of the last right-fielder (who everybody loved), two pitchers who don't speak a word of English, a manager who consistently leaves pitchers in one batter too long and STILL manages to lead his team to the best record in the majors, and a hitting coach whose 1987 rookie cards were supposed to be valuable when they were pulled out of wax packs 20 years ago (I can't believe it's been that long) but, as it turned out, he kinda sucked as a pro.
What's not to love about this team?
Sox in 6.
I actually think they'll win it in less, but I'm hoping it goes six so that they win it all at Fenway this year. But if they go up 3-0, squash the bug and get it over with, I guess.
***
I am settling in, slowly but surely.
First of all, I miss Portland. Actually, first of all, I still miss Boston, but having finally gotten used to west coast life, I really miss Portland - especially its dramatically cheaper cost of living.
That said, my neighborhood is great - quiet townhouses surrounded by trees and lawns (except for my neighbor's front door, which apparently sticks, as it's slammed shut REPEATEDLY every night. Not that I notice.). There's gotta be some kind of Wisteria Lane-ish scandal around here somewhere. It's too quiet for there not to be. Or we're built on an Indian burial ground. Take your pick.
There's a Dunkin Donuts within walking distance - something sorely lacking in Portland. On the other hand, if you go in on the weekend, there's a line of 8-10 people, each yelling over the person in front of him trying to get out the door as quickly as possible. Mounds of sugar make people a bit more aggressive, I suppose. I'll take it, though, especially since it's open 24 hours and has Chocolate Cream donuts readily available. For those not in the know, Chocolate Cream donuts are like eating a sugar coated donut filled with pudding. They're horrible for you, and they sit in your stomach like a bowling ball, but for non-athletes like me, they go down nice and tasty, and with little regret.
There's also a Starbucks, but it's not a store, just one of the kind you find tucked inside the corner of a Supermarket. I've been hesitant to go there because I'm afraid this mutant offspring of a coffee stand will somehow not make the product right, but mostly because the novelty of Dunkin being available to me again hasn't worn off yet (and likely won't for some time to come). Back in Portland, Starbucks are literally found every other block in some areas (much in the same way that Dunkins is spaced out here in the northeast).
The biggest change so far, aside from being temporarily unemployed and not knowing a single person in this entire state other than Nicole, is that we're officially in the suburbs. I'm a city person. Always have been. When I lived in Boston, I walked everywhere. When I lived in Portland, I walked everywhere. I can walk here, too ... but there's really nowhere to go (aside from you know where, which could get dangerous). Given enough wandering time, I'm sure I'll find someplace good to explore. I hope.
On the plus side, as compared to Portland, I haven't run across a single panhandler or kid with magic marker designs on his (or her) face asking for change. Foot-for-foot, Portland is officially the beggingest city I've ever seen. It was always tough adjusting and dealing with that whole side of life: I'm far from rich, but I always have a couple of bucks in my pocket. While I want to be generous and try to help those who need help, there's a degree of frustration in knowing that many of these people refuse to help even themselves to get out of that lifestyle. Anyway, point being: I'm not harassed every 25 feet here like I was back in Pioneer Square.
***
We're still sort of living out of boxes. Lots of our stuff is unpacked, but we still have maybe 10 boxes of who knows what (DVDs and books, probably) that need homes. I really thought that I had weeded out the junk from my collection before packing, but I apparently just have too much stuff. I swear I'm not a pack rat - at least I like to think I'm not - but getting rid of books, for instance, seems so heartbreaking sometimes, even if they're getting sold back to a used store or being given to Goodwill. And the shelves full of books I've accumulated, some still unread, make me feel guilty too. So I can't win: if I keep them, I feel bad for hoarding them and then not using them, but if I give them away ... And then there are all of my t-shirts. I hold on to this stuff as if they're valuable, or could be someday, no matter how beaten up and ratty they may be, as if they'll be my version of all the baseball cards everyone's parents had but "wish they hadn't thrown out." Somehow I doubt my early 90s Urge Overkill t-shirt with the stretched out neck or the Replacements one that really highlights my manboobs will equate to a '65 Mantle card, but there's always the chance. Right? I'm not the crazy one here, right?
But the boxes, so full of ... who knows what. I'm afraid I tossed out stuff I wanted and kept embarrassing pieces of my life's former collections, because I keep coming across crazy crap I know I don't need. My Cactus Jack action figures are great (obviously!), but there's no need for me to have kept the Darren Drosdov one. I'm just saying.
So there's all of this crap lying around taking up space and will probably end up in storage, so I'll get to pay for the privilege of not using junk that I could probably get a whole three dollars for on eBay. This is why I likely won't retire a millionaire. (Specifically this, because otherwise, I'd have it made, I'm sure.)
***
Speaking of clutter and things I'll never use, thanks to Verizon FIOS, our new cable and internet company, I have a ridiculously fast internet connection, which makes collecting live recordings via BitTorrent so much easier. I have literally hundreds of DVDs worth of archived audio and video, and though I couldn't possibly take it all in, I keep adding to it. It's my addiction, I suppose. I don't do drugs or smoke, so it's collecting bootlegs and drinking coffee, I guess. Heaven forbid I miss some weird cover song by the Black Crowes.
***
My Red Sox. My sweet, sweet Red Sox.
There was a nice group of fellow Nation members back in Portland, but I find myself deep in the heart of Yankee country now. I wore my replica Mike Greenwell jersey to IKEA this weekend and could feel the heated, pointy glances of a hundred beady (and jealous) eyes as I strolled through aisles filled with the roughly 23,385 kinds of lamps they sell.
Watching the game last night, Nicole said she felt bad for the Indians. She could see the sadness on their faces. She's a good sport about my obsession, but since she's not as die-hard as I am, she doesn't quite understand that this game will leave every fan angry and bitter at some point. As rough as it is for Indians fans, they need to enjoy the fact that they got there. While the players and their fans might be disappointed to have lost, imaging being a Royals fan, or a Devil Rays fan (if there are any). All a fan can ask is that his or her team of choice is competitive and entertaining, and Cleveland was both this year (and will probably continue to be for years to come).
Don't feel bad for them, I told her, because they're suffering. We suffered too, for many, many years. I never asked anyone to feel sorry for me (pity me, maybe) for being a Red Sox fan, because I knew what I was getting into by embracing the team. And I know that, had the Indians won, nobody would be feeling bad for me, for Manny, for J.D. Drew, or for anyone else.
In the end, it's just a game. Someone wins, someone loses. I'm glad we're on the winning side, but after 2004, I don't think I'd have gotten sick over it had we not made it. "We", as if I had anything to do with it personally. That's a tough mentality to break: the whole "we" won when things go well, but "they" lost when things don't.
Anyway, though my optimism may sometimes waver, my faith never does. I mean, this team has a certifiable lunatic for a closer, a churchy grizzled righthander with a Frankenfoot, a firstbaseman with a giant head and a sweating problem, a left fielder who probably doesn't know what day it is, a 13-year-old tobacco-chewing second baseman, a shortstop with the physique of Oil Can Boyd, a centerfielder named after a cereal, a right fielder who nobody likes (except for one game) wearing the number of the last right-fielder (who everybody loved), two pitchers who don't speak a word of English, a manager who consistently leaves pitchers in one batter too long and STILL manages to lead his team to the best record in the majors, and a hitting coach whose 1987 rookie cards were supposed to be valuable when they were pulled out of wax packs 20 years ago (I can't believe it's been that long) but, as it turned out, he kinda sucked as a pro.
What's not to love about this team?
Sox in 6.
I actually think they'll win it in less, but I'm hoping it goes six so that they win it all at Fenway this year. But if they go up 3-0, squash the bug and get it over with, I guess.