Monday, August 31, 2009

$1.21???



Seriously?

Ya know, when I finally broke down 2 weeks ago and decided to start putting advertisements on Slydesblog, I was “slightly” kidding when I said I didn’t expect to make a lot of money from it.

By “slightly” kidding, I meant I expected to be able to retire in 6 months.

But C’mon People! $1.21? Really? Where the Hell can I retire with that kind of Stipend?

Plum Island? Chernobyl? New Jersey?

I just checked my stats today, and so far I’ve made ONE CENT! ONE LOWSY CENT!

If someone can lend me their time machine, I could take that shiny new penny that I earned today and travel back to 1923 so I could go see the latest Charlie Chaplan talkie! Man, those theatre cigarette girls sure have some gams! One time one of them bent over and I was able to check out almost ALL of her ankle! WOO HOO! 23 Skiddoo!

Sorry, I seemed to have regressed into Flapper-Speak. What was I talking about again?

Oh yeah, money.

People, $1.21 is just NOT gonna cut the mustard. You people just HAVE to step up and start buying some of this shit, I mean commodities, that I am hawking here.

Why, let me just go take a stroll over to my sidebar right now and see what absolute STEALS we have up today for you fine folks:

“Artery Cleaning Secrets” – C’mon, who doesn’t have arteries? I do…. You do… I’m even pretty sure Earl does! My schooling only went as far as 3rd grade, so i’m not exactly sure what these “arteries” supposedly “do”, but I’m pretty sure we need em, so why don’t you clicky-clicky and learn how to keep them clean!

“List of Male Film Actors” – Here, I’ll start you off. Will Smith. If you want some more, you’ll have to pay.

“Pictures of Girls in Pools” – Ok, now who hasn’t at one time or another been sitting in their house and thought about gett………. Ok fuck it. I can’t sugarcoat this one no matter how hard I try. It’s porn… buy some!

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, are just THREE of the wonderful services that I seem to be providing for you all today.

Please, help me out and click more stuff. I NEED this money, people. If I don’t break $1,000,000 by Christmas, I’ll have to go back to my old job as a fluffer for the gay film industry.

Please don’t let me slide back to my old ways… my knees just can’t take it anymore.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Them Basterds Aren’t So Glourious After All

So, as I mentioned in my last post, Sunday afternoon I dragged myself out of bed to see Inglourious Basterds.

Earl and I are both HUGE Tarrantino fans, so I have been anxiously awaiting this film for about a year now.

After leaving the theatre, I couldn’t help but feel slightly…… underwhelmed.

Don’t get me wrong… I.G. is a pretty damn good movie (As are pretty much all of Tarantino’s flicks).

I guess I just expected it to be a different KIND of movie.

For anyone who’s seen the trailers, or heard Tarantino talk about it, you might think that this was an homage to “The Dirty Dozen”….. a World War 2 film where a small band of soldiers sneak behind enemy lines to pull off some kind of caper.

Well, it IS about that, and it isn’t.

I mean, the story IS about that. The problem I had with this film is, you just don’t actually SEE very much of that.

The movie revolves around Brad Pitt’s character, Lt. Aldo Raine, putting together a team of Jewish-American soldiers in 1941 to sneak into German-occupied France to kill as many Nazis as possible, in the sickest WAYS possible.

The concept is classic Tarantino goodness, through and through. The PROBLEM is that you just don’t SEE very much of the Basterds. Oh, We hear many stories, through other characters, of the sick and twisted things the Basterds are doing to any Nazis they come across, but we just don’t actually get to witness very much of it. I don’t even think half of the team had any speaking lines. Hell, even Brad Pitt himself, billed as the star of the movie, goes AWOL without any screen time whatsoever for 30 minutes at a clip more than once in this 2 ½ hour movie.

The reason, in my mind at least, that movies like “The Dirty Dozen”, “The Magnificent Seven”, and “The Great Escape” worked so well, is that in THOSE films, each team member is pretty well fleshed out as a character, and you really start to care about each and every one of them.

Not so much with the Inglourious Basterds. With the exceptions of Pitt’s Lt. Raine, Eli Roth as the bat-wielding “Bear Jew” Sgt. Donny Donowitz, and Nazi-turned-Basterd Sgt Hugo Stiglitz (Til Schweiger), you just won’t care about any of the other members of the team at all. And that is a BIG flaw of the film.

I don’t want to put too much of a down note on this movie, though. There’s certainly a lot to like about I.G.. Christopher Waltz as the Nazi-enforcer Col. Hans Landa is truly outstanding. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him get an Oscar nod. Ditto for Mélanie Laurent as the Jewish orphan-in-hiding Shosanna Dreyfus. Some of the dialogue, especially between these two, gets you on the edge of your seat and keeps you there.

In the end, I look at Inglorious Basterds like this: I love ALL of Tarantino’s work, but there are some movies that I absolutely OBSESS on and need to own and could watch over and over (Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs), and some that I enjoyed but really don’t ever need to see again (Jackie Brown, 4 Rooms).

For me, Ingorious Basterds unfortunately fell into the latter category.

Has anyone else out there seen it yet? What did you think of it?

Monday, August 24, 2009

A Busy Little Bee



I haven’t been around for a week. I don’t think I’ve gone without posting this long in a LOOOONG time. Probably not since the days I used to tolerate Earl co-blogging here.

Why have I been AWOL, you might ask?

Because I took a few days off work, to spend time with Mini-Me.

And to be quite honest, as much as I love you all, if I have to choose between being outside and doing something fun during Long Island’s ONLY summer heat wave to date, and sitting at home in my underwear blogging, I’ll usually pick that first one every time.

What exactly might I have been up to? Because I know you all NEED to live vicariously through me, I’ll give ya all a brief rundown of my last few days.

Wednesday
My volleyball team, the Sweet Tomatoes, took a serious hit on our penultimate outing. That’s a nice way of saying we sucked. This week will be our final game. Keep your fingers crossed that we can finish up the season at .500.

Thursday
I took my son to his favorite summer place, Splish Splash.

If you believe the radio spots they run, it’s “One of the Top Water Parks in the Country!”.

If you believe ME, it’s a fucking shameless money vacuum.

$37.99 for me to get in for the day. $27.99 for my son. $12.00 to park. $12.00 to get a locker to put our shit in.

For the mathematically challenged, that’s $90 dollars out of my pocket before I even get so much as my big fucking toe wet.

And don’t even get me started on lunch, carnival games, and souvenirs. You would think that having me strut around their place in a g-string would be a big enough draw that they would pay ME just to be there.

Friday
Went to Fire Island with a group of friends. Had a generally fun time, although with Hurricane Bill breathing down our necks, the tide was pretty fierce. By noon the police were strolling the beach ordering people out of the water. Of course, by that time I’d already tried to show off by paddling out past the breakers, and got my knee fucked up more than when Tom Hanks tried to escape the island in Castaway.

Saturday
Went to 2 outdoor get-togethers. The first one was during the day and was family-friendly. The nighttime one was adults only.

Guess which one I enjoyed more?

If I was the kind of person who would kiss and tell, I could write up some serious shit about Saturday night. Suffice to say that it involved nudity, wacky weed, wife swapping, extreme drunkenness, and break dancing.

For the life of me, I’m not sure which one of the aforementioned that I enjoyed more.

Sunday
Sunday I stayed in bed till 11:00 and tried to remind myself that I’m not 25 years old anymore. I may still look like a sexy god of perfection, but the years, they DO start to take their toll.

Anyway, I recovered enough by Sunday Afternoon to drag my ass down to see Inglorious Basterds. I’ll try to put up a review later in the week.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Selling Out To The Man

Well, I’ve finally gone and done it.

I have sold my soul to the corporate devil.

I have begun to put advertisements on Slydesblog.

Why, you might ask, did I choose this time to finally burden you all, my loyal subjects, with the extra required bandwidth to bombard you with subliminal adverts asking you to buy things that you didn’t even KNOW you needed yet?

I dunno. Boredom, maybe?

Honestly, that’s about as good a reason as any. For a few months now, I’ve been toying with the idea of putting some ads here. Last night, in a fit of malaise, I finally pulled the trigger on it.

I guess it didn’t hurt that I read an article last week that dealt with web advertising, and how this one asshat out in Texas is now making 5 MILLION DOLLARS a month by placing ads on sites.

Now, I don’t anticipate making THAT kind of money…. At least not right off the bat.

Truth be told, I don’t think I’ll make ANYTHING off these ads, but I was curious just how much a high-minded website like mine that deals pretty much exclusively with wee-wee’s, boobies, and how insanely hot I am, could generate.

Did I mention wee-wee’s?

Anyway, I’ve been working all night running a series of highly complex cost analysis scenarios, and from my extremely educated and detailed findings, I think I can safely conclude that, due to running these advertisements, I should be EASILY clearing a cool 24 to 27 cents. 15 cents after taxes. A year!

Yeah, you read that right.

If I play my cards right, in my first 7,000 years, I should be banking my first $1,000!

I know that may SOUND like a long time to some of you, but they say when it comes to advertising, it usually takes people a few hundred years before word of mouth starts to generate a decent buzz. I can wait.

Anyway, the ads are automatically selected from the content on the site, so expect to be bombarded with a lot of books on the power of positive self-attitude, and penis pumps.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Naked Isn’t Always Better

Last night my neighbors saw me naked.

Ok, let me back up a bit.

I’ve said before how much I love the summer months. The hotter the better, I say. The warm weather goes by so damn quickly, that I always try to make the most of it.

Take last night, for example.

I have a pool in my backyard. It’s a nice big pool. I like my pool. I like swimming in my pool.

On a nice, hot, summer night, I like swimming in my pool naked.

Now, I’m not an exhibitionist or anything, but my backyard is completely secluded (or so I thought), with a 6 ½ foot PVC fence, and there are virtually NO Lights on in my area at night. In short, you really can’t see so much as your hand in front of your face back there at night.

I’m a bit of a night owl, so it’s not unusual for me to be up till 2am or so, long after everyone else in the house is fast asleep. I’m not exactly sure when it started, but a few years back, on a particularly hot and sultry night, I decided to take a late night dip in the pool. All I had on was a pair of shorts, and I was too lazy to run upstairs to get a bathing suit.

I took a look outside, saw how dark it was out there, and finally said “What the fuck?”, and went for it.

I must say, it’s quite liberating. I’m not a nudist or anything, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it very relaxing to be puttering about in my pool all commando-like.

Well, it wasn’t too fucking relaxing last night.

It was about midnight, and I decided to take a dip. So there I am, swimming around with my frank and beans all exposed, when suddenly my entire backyard becomes as bright as the noonday sun!

It took me a second to realize that my neighbors decided to go out onto their patio, and turned on the flood lamps on the side of their house. I guess they have never used them before, because I noticed for the first time that they completely light up my backyard.

The next thing I know, my neighbors come strolling out onto their patio!

So here I am, hiding in the water, sinking down to my nose, trying like Hell to not even make a splash. I must have looked like Martin Sheen in Apocalypse now (except I’m MUCH better looking).

So, I’m thinking that they must have come out for just a second, to get something, when out walk about another dozen people, with a case of beer between them.

Apparently, they decided it was a good night to have a late night deck party!

So, I’m floating there, feeling like an idiot, listening to them drink and have a good time.

5 minutes go by. 10 minutes.

At the 15 minute mark, I figured that I could either a) sleep in my pool all night, or b) make a run for it.

I decided on option b.

But, how to proceed? Most of my daily activities involve me just looking good. I don’t do a lot of subterfuge.

I decided I COULDN’T just get out of the pool by the stairs, since I’d have to climb up and basically stand there shaking my hey-nanny-nanny at the partygoers.

So, I quietly paddled to the far end of the pool, grabbed the side, and somersaulted myself over the side.

I did NOT land gracefully.

When I looked around, still dripping wet and hiding behind a shrub, I cursed myself when I discoved that I left my towel WAAAAAY over on the other side of the backyard.

I sat there in a panic for about 5 minutes. I’m not sure what the hell I was waiting for. It's not like i want people seeing my loose diamonds flap about in the breeze. Some kind of sign from God, maybe? But finally, I decided I needed to just go for it.

So, I made a break for my towel, running across the grass.

I almost made it, too.

Right as I reached my towel, I suddenly heard the conversation next door COMPLETELY FUCKING STOP! Hearing that silence was worse than a gunshot.

Then I heard someone say, “Well, would ya look at that!”

I never had the courage to turn around to see who said it. I just ran in the house and locked the door.

I guess, being completely busted, I should have just stopped and taken a bow.

Now, I’m terrified of seeing these people out in broad daylight. I have no idea what I’m going to say to them.

And I just KNOW that when I DO see them, the whole time they are talking to me, all that will be going through their head is…

“I saw your pee-pee! I saw your pee-pee!”

Not one of my proudest moments, I’ll admit.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

I Know Kung Fu

Whenever I decide to do a "bullet" post, I always show a cute picture with something having to do with real bullets. You know, like "Bang Bang Fuck I'm Dead" bullets.

Isn't that cute? You would think that someone who looks like me would rely soley on my physical appearance to get me through life, but remarkably I continue to be as funny and personable as I am bangable.

Anyway,
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For everyone who let me know that Judd Nelson played BENDER in The Breakfast Club, and not Andrew Clark (who was played by Emilio Esteves)……

I KNEW IT! I had originally written that it was Bender, but then I figured Earl would get all up in my grill if I had remembered it incorrectly, so I went to IMDB to check it out, and was surprised to see they had credited Nelson’s part as Andrew Clark. So, not trusting myself, I changed it.

Guess what? IMDB is wrong! That’ll teach me to second-guess myself! Fuck you, IMDB!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not that I want to turn this blog into “The John Hughes Memorial Website” or anything, but I ran across THIS the other day. It tells of the pretty amazing story of one fan and her decade’s long association with the man himself.

I thought this was really an AMAZING read. I always knew the man was a great writer/director, but now I know that he was also a pretty awesome PERSON as well. You should check it out.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As if my job couldn’t become more sucky, last week it miraculously did. Too long of a story to write about now, but I might make a post out of it next week. I’m still too P.O.’ed about it to write coherently.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My volleyball team, the Sweet Tomatoes, continues our upward climb toward not sucking so much. With only 3 more weeks in the season, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to miss it when it ends.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Speaking of things ending, is anyone else getting really bummed that the Summer is winding down? Here in NY, we had something like 26 rainy days in June, so summer didn’t really kick in for us New Yawkers until the 4th of July. And it’s STILL rained a shitload since then.

It hasn’t been that HOT, either. During the summer, I like to take my supple, muscular, toned, Sicilian, olive-skinned, perfect body and bake it with 100 degree days.

No dice this summer. Yesterday was our FIRST fucking day to break 90 degrees here all Summer. Then, to just piss all over THAT milestone, the heat broke last night and turned into a lightning storm. Yay, Summer!

That's all for now. I'll try to post something more substantial later in the week.

Friday, August 07, 2009

Don’t You Forget About Me



I was shocked last night when the news that Hollywood Writer/Director John Hughes had died of a heart attack at the age of 59.

Celebrity deaths really don’t affect me too much, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly bummed out today to hear of this one.

For me, the movies of John Hughes DEFINED my teenage years. All the insecurities, fears, raging hormones, and general young angst that I was going through during that time, really was put under a spotlight and examined in all of his films.

I always felt better about being a teenager after seeing one of his movies. I felt like someone out there in Hollywood ‘got me’. Many of his movies really meant a lot to me. They still do.

Maybe you needed to be a teenager growing up in the 80’s to really appreciate his films. For me, they REALLY hit the mark, and help me define the decade. When I think of the 80’s and high school, HIS are the movies that I think of and relate to.

For those unfamiliar, check out just SOME of the flicks he wrote:

Vacation
Breakfast Club
Sixteen Candles
Weird Science
Pretty In Pink
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
Some Kind Of Wonderful
Planes Trains and Automobiles
Uncle Buck
Home Alone
Beethoven

Can you believe all that? He is the reason young stars like Molly Ringwald, Jon Cryer, Anthony Michael Hall, Emilio Esteves, Ally Sheedy, and Judd Nelson all became stars.

A few weeks ago I spoke about how Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is one of my all time favorite movies. The film came out in the spring of 86, just a month before I was about to graduate high school, and it seemed to sum up the meaningless of much of my high school experience so beautifully.

Vacation was the ‘cool’ movie that my friends were too young to see, but when we got a chance to see it anyway, we loved it and quoted it for weeks. Ditto for Weird Science. I think we watched that movie drunk EVERY DAMN weekend in college.

Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink, and my favorite of the three, Some Kind of Wonderful, all came out while I was in high school.

And who can forget the granddaddy of them all, The Breakfast Club. I remember renting that as a teenager and watching it in awe. I had never seen a “high school” movie that dealt with all the pressures and insecurities and labels that I was dealing with, every fucking day, in my high school experience. This movie STILL affects me whenever I watch it. When my son gets to be of that age, I plan to pop it in and watch it with him, to show him that he is NOT alone in what he is feeling.

So, I’m feeling kinda blue today, that someone who I never met, and never knew I existed, but who’s work left a huge impression on me, died way too early.

Tonight I plan to go home, relax in front of the TV, and pop in my copy of The Breakfast Club on DVD.

I’ll end this with my favorite quote from The Breakfast Club. In the immortal words of Judd Nelson’s “Andrew Clark”….

“Screws fall out all the time, the worlds' an imperfect place..”

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Filling A Void

Well, I did it.

In just about a month, I managed to watch all 7 seasons of The Shield.

Towards the end there, it was getting a little crazy. I was watching three or four episodes a day. I think near the final episodes I was starting to get a little burned out, but it was still a great ride.

Some people have said that they consider the final episode of The Shield to be the best series finale ever. It was certainly up there with the best. I enjoyed it immensely, but I still have to give props Six Feet Under as the show that had the best final episode EVER. Seriously, I still get goose bumps thinking about it.

I REALLY want to talk about The Shield finale, but I will hold my tongue and not reveal any spoilers for the unwashed masses who haven’t seen the show yet. I WILL say that, true to the show’s form, it was a tragic ending, with almost everybody finally paying the piper for what they had done for the previous 7 seasons. Ballsy, and well done.

Anyway, it got me thinking about “good” final episodes of other shows I’ve watched over the years. If I put any REAL effort into this list, I’m sure I’d come up with some others, but off the top of my head…

Six Feet Under – As I said, the best ever.

M.A.S.H. – The show lasted longer than the actual Korean War, but it was a solid ending.

The Sopranos – Most people hated the ending, but I thought to end it the way they did, showing us how Tony will have to live his life, day in and day out always looking over his shoulder, as being a fitting ending to a great show.

The Office – No, not the watered down American version. I’m talking about the FAR superior original British version. I LOVED that show, and their Finale/Christmas Special was one of the best ever.

Little House On The Prairie – Did I really just write that? Yeah, I did. But when I watched this as a kid, when the town got together to blow up Walnut Grove, building by building, rather than to let the railroad have it, I wept like a little baby.

Those were the first 5 I thought of. I’m sure I can come up with much more if I really thought about it. How about you? How about BAD finales?

LATE IN THE GAME P.S.: I COMPLETELY forgot about the finale to St Elsewhere. One of my favorite shows of all time and an AWESOME finale... i loved it!