They’re without a doubt my favorite ‘monster’. Followed closely behind by Werewolves. Vampires would be a distant third.
But, back to zombies…..
Thanks to the twisted mind of George Romero, I have been in love with all things Undead for about 20 years now.
It started when my friends and I snuck in to see the midnight opening-night premier of “Day of the Dead”. I loved it (even though it’s not one of his stronger “Dead” films). In fact, I liked it so much that I decided to rent “Dawn of the Dead”, and after that, I was a zombie junkie. 20 years later and George Romero’s “Dawn of the Dead” still remains my favorite horror movie of all time.
Since then, I have considerably expanded my zombie repertoire. Be it from Evil Dead, Shawn of the Dead, Resident Evil, Demons, 28 Days Later and everything in-between….. if it SHOULD be dead, and it’s still moving, I’m interested. (note: I know that zombie purists don’t consider some of the above to technically be “zombie” movies. Zombie purists can bite me.)
And I don’t just limit my love of the living-impaired to movies. Whether it is zombie video games, board games, or comic books, I’m all in.
Speaking of comic books, one of my favorite comics for the past 5 years has been a little ol’ title named “The Walking Dead”. It centers on a small group of survivors who band together a few days after the zombie apocalypse begins, as they attempt to stay alive and get away from all the dangers (both living and not) that their new world throws at them.
It’s done with a very mature and realistic touch, and I eagerly rush home to read every new issue each month. It’s graphic, and not for the squeamish, as you might guess. I also love the fact that, unlike watching James Bond wrestle 200 ninjas and not get a scratch, the gritty, real-like nature of Walking Dead has characters, CENTRAL characters, routinely buying the farm. Literally, no one is ‘safe’ in this book.
So, I was filled with fanboy glee last year when I heard that AMC began working with Walking Dead writer Robert Kirkman on a Walking Dead TV Series! Even better still, it’s being written by Frank Darabont, who is arguably one of the best writers in Hollywood. He’s the dude that wrote the screenplay for Stephen Kings Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile, for starters, along with a hundred other things.
Frank fucking Darabont is writing a Walking Dead series for AMC! I still can’t believe it. The only way that news could have been any better is if the show was going to be on HBO (but I’ll take AMC over network TV, anyday).
Anyway, it’s premiering in October and you would be a FOOL not to watch it. And I don’t mean ‘foolish’. I mean a literal Fool. You know, with that big hat with the bells on the ends, and a green and red suit with pointy shoes and a Punch and Judy puppet in your hands.
That didn’t make any fucking sense, did it?
Never mind. The point I’m trying to get across here is that this show is going to kick major ass. The banner above is one of the first official press photos from the show, and I think the casting is absolutely perfect. If you look around the web, there are some other cool pics starting to surface.
Anyway, AMC is where I’m going to be this October, and it’s where YOU should be if you want to sleep with me. And we all know how badly you all want to bone me…. it’s completely understandable.
If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been the last few days…… guess what? That makes 2 of us.
Saturday night, about 20 of us went out to a local waterfront restaurant, The Riverview, for what was SUPPOSED to be a nice night of dinner and dancing to celebrate my good friend Jessica’s 40th birthday.
Things started off innocently enough. I had a half dozen oysters and some crab encrusted Mahi Mahi. It was delicious. Of course, it was ALSO the only thing I had eaten all day. That would be important later.
I had a few beers with my dinner. Not many. Maybe 3 or 4. I’m not a big drinker, as a rule. At least not anymore. And definitely not like SOME people I know. But I can handle my beer. Dinner was not the problem.
The problem was that after we finished dinner, we all moved into the bar/club area where I decided I should upgrade to Tequila.
I really don’t know what the Hell got into me. Because I fucking HATE Tequila. Things never end well with me and Tequila. In fact, the last time I got drunk on Tequila I ended up chasing Earl for about 20 blocks down a residential neighborhood. That’s a story for another time.
In THIS story, I continued to do Tequila shots with anyone who would do one with me. And I was really feeling pretty good. Not feeling the side effects at all. So I did some more. And then some more.
I had about a dozen under my belt when I stumbled out onto the boardwalk for some fresh air where I found one of my pals who asked if I cared to partake in the smoking of some wacky weed. Not wanting to be rude, I partook (I did a LOT of partooking).
Then back inside the bar I scampered, now feeling absolutely no pain, where I apparently decided that the best thing to do after getting stoned out of your mind is to follow it up with more Tequila shots.
That’s pretty much where the night ended for me. At least, what I can remember of it. Everything else from the night is just a series of jumbled snapshots in my head.
What I DO remember:
1) A drunk girl hit on me on the dance floor. I ran up to Friz and said “Did you see that? She wants me! I’m gonna go for it!”. Friz told me that, in my current state, if I could somehow manage to make that happen, she would gladly drive me and my new friend home so I could seal the deal. I don’t remember getting any (from ANYBODY), so I guess I somehow fucked that one up.
2) One of my friends told me he knew a “guy” who could get us shrooms, so I ordered him to call the guy, thinking he would deliver them like Dominoes. That never happened, either.
3) I remember opening my eyes to find that I was being driven home. I also remember beginning to rapid-fire vomit all over my shirt, while Friz somewhere in the distance was screaming, “Not in the car, you jackass! Lean out the window!”
4) I remember somehow being in my house, stripping naked except for my shoes, and crawling on all fours until I got to our 2nd floor stairs. I remember starting to climb them, and falling asleep completely diagonally on the stairs.
5) Friz must have pulled me up the stairs, because the next thing I remember was waking up on the 2nd floor hallway about 6 hours later. I had a pillow and a blanket over me, and a substance that looked remarkably like oysters in a bucket to my right. They didn’t look that appetizing anymore.
Anyway, I crawled (literally) to my bed, and I stayed there till about 3pm Sunday. At which time I made the Herculean effort of walking to the couch, laying down, and watching Netflix until 10pm when I went back to bed.
Not one of my proudest moments, I’ll admit, but at least I gave my posse something to talk about for the next millennia or so. For those of you fortunate enough to be my Facebook friend, those pictures of me that people have been putting up are, unfortunately for me, 100 percent authentic.
There is also video, but I’ll fucking KILL the scallywag who’s got the stones to attempt to throw THAT shit up on the interwebs.
This week I started listening to the first Harry Potter novel on audio book.
When all the Harry Potter hupla was going on a few years ago, I really didn’t pay it any attention. From what I could gather, it seemed like a little kid’s book to me.
Then, book after book, they just got more and more popular. Grown men and women routinely would come up to me saying “You have GOT to try to read these! They’re not just for kids… they are fantastic!”
So, a few years ago when the first movie came about, I figured I’d at least invest 2 hours of my time and watch it. I thought it was completely juvenile and boring, and as I sat there watching it I lamented over the 2 hours of my life that I would never get back.
When I’ve told people about how I felt about the film, everyone inevitably says the same thing: “Oh, but you have GOT to read the books first! There is so much they leave out in the film and after you read them the movies will seem much better!”
Blah blah blah.
So, mainly because I just want to shut these nosy-bodies up once and for all, this week I finally started listening to book 1 on audio.
Admittedly, I’m not very far into it yet, but so far it’s left me with a big feeling of “This is pretty much exactly the shit I THOUGHT it was going to be.”
I mean, when Dumpledorf, or whatever the fuck his name is, shows up on Harry’s street and uses a lighter to put out the streetlights, and he calls it his “Put-Out-er”, I wanted to vomit all over my IPod. That is EXACTLY the kind of childish Gablygook that I feared this book was going to be about.
But I have never put down a book and not read it to its completion once I have started it, and as I said, I am still near the beginning, so I will be a good little Muggle and keep pressing on.
But I have to say, unless this book does SOMETHING to impress me soon, I can safely say that this will be the last adventure of young Mr. Potter’s that I read.
Are there at least any orgies in this book? Cause that might do it for me…..
I have a confession to make. I realized this morning that I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it here before.
No, I’m not talking about my chronic case of well-hung-itis. That’s a burden that I have learned to bear.
No, I’m talking about the fact that, for years, I have suffered from a chronic case of Telephobia.
What is that, you might ask?
I have a REAL, crippling fear of talking on telephones.
I wish I was making that up, but it’s true.
It’s not just ‘talking’ on telephones that drives me apeshit, really. It’s just when I have to talk to STRANGERS on telephones, or if I have to have an uncomfortable conversation on a phone that drives me crazy.
Case in point: Last week Friz and I bought new cell phones, and because she has begun texting her friends like a 16 year old high school girl (don’t get me started), we got one of those heavy-duty texting plans.
Imagine me then this past weekend when my usually calm mental Happy Place was blown to shit when I decided to check our cell phone bill on-line and saw that our phone bill for the last 2 weeks alone was ALREADY OVER THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS!
When I checked out the bill details, it clearly showed that we had accrued about $225 in texting charges. Apparently, my friendly cell-phone salesman fucked up our purchase plan, and I was paying 30 cents per incoming AND outgoing text. Awesome.
Obviously, there was no way I was going to pay that. And we needed to correct our billing plan.
There was only one small problem with that. In order to get this corrected, I was going to have to actually SPEAK with someone.
Someone I don’t know.
And I’d probably have to argue with them till I got my way.
That was enough to send a chill down my spine.
So, I did the only thing I could do….. what I ALWAYS do in these kinds of situations.
I let Friz take care of it.
She can be a real bulldog with things like this. She’s fearless when dealing with people, and can be a right bitch when she needs to. Within 30 minutes, our bill was wiped clean, our correct texting plan was in place, and I even got my data plan on the new phone included for free.
Another crisis averted.
I don’t know how this shit started with me, but I just can’t handle it. It’s so strange because it just completely doesn’t jell with the rest of my personality. I don’t know if you’ve been able to pick this up from any of my previous posts, but I have a bit of an ego problem.
And I have no problem causing a scene in person when I need to. I just can’t seem to bring myself to do it on the phone.
I don’t ever answer my phone at home. I have an answering machine, and it pisses my friends off to no end to have to speak into it when they KNOW I’m fucking home, before I pick up the line to talk to them.
The reason I don’t just pick up the phone when it rings? Because there might be a stranger on the line and it freaks me out.
I know this is pretty fucked up, but I’ve been like this pretty much my whole life. It makes having to call vendors at work and complain about something a REAL fucking pleasure….
Anyone else have a problem like this? At some point in my life I’d love to FINALLY get over this shit…..
It’s frustrating because, as we all can agree, I’m absolutely PERFECT in EVERY other way, both physically and mentally.
Yeah, yeah yeah. I went another week without posting. What part of “lazy” are you guys having trouble with?
Honestly, I had every intention of posting a few things this week (and reading your blogs), but work has been a bit of a bear this week, so I was unable to goof off enough to get any posts in. Heaven forbid I take time away from my precious after-work “pool time” to write this crap.
Anyway, as the title implies, I managed to survive another Independence Day without blowing off anything that I could possibly have a use for one day. That includes my wee-wee, thank goodness.
Actually, the 4th was an absolute blast this year. The weather was gorgeous for a change, and I spent the entire weekend at bbq’s with some good friends and even better booze. And the best part was that all the get-togethers were at OTHER people’s homes, for a change. You lucky few who are friends with me on Facebook might have caught some of the pics people have posted, most noticeably some where the lengths of marshmallow sticks were being compared. Rest assured ladies, mine was the longest.
Whew! Sorry for being absent this week, folks, but last week’s anniversary celebration really tuckered me out!
Like any good party, I finally woke up about 2 days ago, hung over in some strange hotel room, with a Bengal tiger in the bathtub and my hands tied behind my back with some stripper’s thong.
You know how it goes….
Ok, so maybe that wasn’t QUITE how this week went, but I WAS kinda burnt out from posting every day last week.
I figured maybe we needed a break from each other. Since I’ve spent most of my life having women repeatedly say that to ME, I figured I’d turn the tables and say it to YOU GUYS for once. How do YOU like it?
Why was I posting again?
Oh yes, to tell you that while I took my mini-break from blogging, I spent Tuesday in the Big Bad Apple taking Mini-Me to his first ever trip to New York City.
I had been wanting to take the little guy for a while now, but something always seemed to come up, so finally getting to go was a big deal for us.
We started our trip by taking a ride on the Long Island Railroad (another first for Mini). He loves trains, so he thoroughly enjoyed himself. Whenever we went in a tunnel, he pressed his little face to the glass in the hopes of seeing a rat on the rails. He said he saw 3. I believe him.
It was HOT on Tuesday. Really Hot. Once we arrived at Penn Station, we headed straight for the Empire State building, and we were both sweating by the time we got there. He had said he wanted to go to the top, but once we got outside and he saw just how tall ‘the top’ was, he chickened out. On to the next attraction we went…
…which turned out to be the Toys R Us in Times Square. Here, Mini-Me was in his element. The place is HUGE (it has its own Ferris wheel, for crying out loud). We spent about 2 hours there and spent a lot of money buying crap that I could have bought at the Toys R Us that’s about 5 minutes from my house.
Next we had planned to eat lunch at Jekyll and Hydes. It’s a horror themed restaurant. The place looks like a haunted house, and there is a creepy doorman who lets you in. Once you are escorted inside, a creepy old woman named Dr. Killsalot jumped out at us, told us she was going to kill us, and then she shut the lights off. We were in pitch black darkness as the wall turned into a TV that showed a corpse yelling at us. Then, the corpse said he was going to crush us, and the ceiling started to come down.
It’s all done in great fun, and if not for the fact that I had a timid 7 year-old with me, I would have had a blast, but all that stuff pretty much set Mini-Me right off to Defcon 0. When the lights came back on and they started to escort us to our table, I saw he was just about ready to cry.
I tried to calm him down, but as they escorted us to our seat, we passed all kinds of corpses hanging on the walls, and portraits with the pairs of eyes moving behind them. That didn’t help much.
Then, when we were seated, they shut the lights off and they gave us flashlights so we could read the menus. When Dr. Killsalot came back, this time on stage, pulling a chain that brought a 8 foot Frankenstein down from the ceiling so she could bring him back to life, I knew it was time to yell “Check, Please!” and get the Hell of of Dodge. Time spent at Jekyll and Hyde’s? 6 minutes.
Trying to recover from that misstep, we walked over to F.A.O. Schwartz, which is enough to bring ANY kid out of the doldrums. After spending 20 minutes running back and forth over the large piano keys from “Big” he was back to his high spirits. After about an hour there, we headed back to Penn Station for Mini-Me’s grand cuisine of choice…… McDonalds.
All in all, it was a grand trip, and it made me happy to know that I made HIM happy, and that he will remember that trip, hopefully fondly, for the rest of his life (except for that whole “Scaring the shit out of him thing”).
This is probably the part of the post where I put up all the pictures I took, but instead I’ll use this part of the post to remind you all how fucking lazy I am. I DID take pictures, but I haven’t downloaded them yet off of the camera. Hopefully this weekend.