No, I haven’t misspelled the title song of those one-hit wonders, Dexy’s Midnight Runners…..
I’m just gonna bitch and whine for a few moments about my post-hurricane Irene situation.
I really thought we were gonna get thru this thing unscathed. Even though the rain was torrential, and the wind was whipping things around like a mother, by 9 A.M. Sunday morning things were starting to die down and we still had power.
Then, just because Mother Nature likes to fuck with me, a mini-tornado touched down on our street.
It was about 2 minutes all told, but the damage done in those 2 minutes was pretty damn massive. Trees came down crushing fences and sheds, power lines came down, windows were smashed….
The worst damage came from a series of big trees down the street from us. The picture above is the best I could get of it from my cell phone, but you really can’t see the complete devastation that happened from that pic.
That tree in the pic is MASSIVE. It came down sprawled across the street, landing on a little Toyota and pretty much cutting it in half. There’s also a second tree, almost as big, behind the first one, which came down as well. THAT second tree hit the power lines, and took them down, along with the pole it was attached to.
The end result is a street that is completely cut off, some fucked up cars, live wires crackling all over the place, and me without power since Sunday morning.
We have now entered Day 3 of what I like to call “Slyde Under Seige”.
Living without power pretty blows donkey chunks. You can quote me on that.
During the day, Mini-Me and I take walks to look at all the downed trees, and play board games. Once the sun goes down, I feel like Will Smith in “I Am Legend”. I run home to sit in a pitch black house and try to drink myself silly so I can force myself to actually fall asleep by 9 P.M. Good times.
The WORST part of the whole situation is that the house next door to mine gets their power from a different transformer, so THEY still have fucking power! Some nights I sit on my porch steps and stare at them all watching TV through their window. I get filled with rage and seriously contemplate throwing a tree trunk like a javelin, right at their fat, TV-watching heads. I guess I’m petty, but I think I could be handling this much better if my entire neighborhood was suffering like I am. Seeing the people next to me going about their day like nothing is wrong is almost too much for me to bear.
From what I’m being told, I’d be surprised if got power back before next week.
So, that’s where I’m at. I could say something noble like “At least we all came thru the hurricane OK”, but fuck that…..
What’s up with all you chicks and the Lifetime channel, anyway?
Seriously, I just can’t wrap my mind around what the Hell keeps you guys coming back to that channel, time after time, to watch one crappy movie after another.
Every fucking night, I try to wrench the remote from Friz, so I can watch something of substance, like Die Hard, and I am inevitably greeted with “You can watch your stupid show when MY movie is done.”
Then I look at the screen, and of course I see that damnable Lifetime logo on the bottom…..
But hey, I’m a reasonable person. I’ll often sit down on the couch, and see if this movie that has her so engrossed is anything actually worth watching.
EVERY STORY REVOLVES AROUND THE SAME FUCKING 3 PREMISES EVERY DAMN TIME!!!!!
What’s that, you say? You won’t be home tonight to be able to watch the Thursday night movie on Lifetime?
Well, I don’t have a TV Guide in front of me, but let me take a wild stab at what tonight’s movie will be about….
1) A wife gets into a car accident and gets amnesia. Watch her painful struggle as she tries to remember who the fuck she is, while she starts a new life somewhere else and bangs someone who isn’t her husband…..
2) A wife gets roughed up a lot by her abusive husband. Watch her painful struggle as tries to leave a bad marriage, while she starts banging a new guy who is NOT her husband, but seems really swell….
3) A wife has a painful secret from her youth. Usually that means that she either murdered someone in self defense, or she was a hooker (or both!). Watch her painful struggle as she is blackmailed into banging someone in order to keep him quiet, while she struggles to keep her family together.
And THAT’S FUCKING IT!
Over and over and over.
Different casts, different locations, people wear different hats and shit, but it’s basically the SAME DAMN premises again and again!
I can’t fucking stand it anymore. I honestly don’t understand how you gals can sit thru this dreck again and again…..
The best part is that Friz doesn’t even seem to remember which ones she’s seen and which ones she hasn’t seen already. Sometimes I’ll ask to use the TV, and she tells me that she is in the middle of a movie, and I’ll take a gander at the screen only to see Melissa Gilbert getting chased through a forest AND I KNOW DAMN WELL THAT SHE WATCHED THIS SAME SHITTY MOVIE TWO DAMN MONTHS AGO!
When I tell her that she’s seen this one already, all I’m given as a reply is, “Really? Yeah this DID seem kinda familiar. But I don’t remember how it ends so I still want to watch it.”
How it ends? HOW IT ENDS?
It ends with Melissa Gilbert getting away and starting a new life! JUST LIKE EVERY FUCKING ONE OF THESE SHITCAN MOVIES END!
And while we’re on the topic of Melissa Gilbert, what the fuck is up with her being in EVERY damn one of these movies, anyway? I thought Hollywood was FULL of washed up 70’s actresses…. Why the hell do they have to keep plowing THAT same field over and over again? Geez, give someone else their big break, won’t ya?
Seriously, this crappy channel is cutting into my time to watch REAL quality programming….
I just got Predator on Blu-ray, for Gosh Sakes!!!!
There have been times, after I have posted something here, that I look back on what I wrote, and reflect to myself , “I just shared a little TOO much.”
This is probably gonna be one of those times.
If you’ve been around these parts for a while, then you know that I have been prone to having some pretty messed up dreams from time to time.
Well, Ladies and Gents, I do believe we have ourselves a Winnah!!!
Let me recount for you my dream from last night…….
In my dream, I was petering around my house, when I realized that I was quite hungry.
Actually, “hungry” doesn’t really do justice to the state I was in. I was RAVENOUS!
So, my sexy dream self decided to go into the kitchen to see what kind of left-overs we had in the fridge.
No sooner did I open the fridge, when I started tearing open every container I could find to see what there was to eat.
The problem was, no matter how many Tupperware containers I opened, I could find NOTHING to eat. One container had spoiled Chinese food, the next was empty with just crumbs inside, the next one had some food that I can’t stand, like Eggplant, in it……
On and on and on….
Now, at this point, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that this so far is the lamest and most BORING dream that was ever dreamt in all of Dreamland.
Well, hold on to your hats…..
Because, just when I was about to give up my search and go hungry, I found one last Tupperware container in the back of the fridge.
So, I pulled it out, set it down on the counter, and when I peeled back the lid, I discovered that it was full of………
Yeah, that’s right. I said it. The container was filled to the brim with dozens of penises.
And whoever had put them in there did so very lovingly, because they weren’t just thrown in there all hap hazardly. Lord knows I wouldn’t have taken the time to place them in there all nice and organized, but THAT’S just how they were placed, all neatly splayed on top of each other.
They were all even facing the same direction!
Clearly, SOMEONE really cares about the contents of their Tupperware.
Anyway, although I’m FAIRLY certain that, in real life, if I came home to find a box of severed penises in my refrigerator, it would probably put me in some level of distress, my Dream Me seemed to be just fine with it.
MORE than fine with it, actually.
You see, I was still hungry.
So, Dream Me started trying to decide how I was going to cook them up.
Should I bake them? Bread them? Or maybe just throw em on the Barbeque basted with a little Teriyaki?
A Penis shish-kabob, perhaps?
Anyway, while Dream Me was trying to decide just what Emeril Lagasse might do in this situation, my alarm went off and I woke up.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so fucking glad to have to get up to work in the morning.
Ok then. This is the part where I’d normally ask you to go easy on me, but who am I kidding?
Go for it. Be your most vicious. I can take it.
That which does not kill me, makes me stronger.
I promised myself I would blog about this, and I did it.
I FULLY intended to just phone one in today and put up a bullshit, easy-peasy post with a youtube clip that I found funny, but then Barb had to give me a shout out telling all the interwebs about how awesome I am, so NOW I feel compelled to actually WRITE something today.
Thanks a lot! What the Hell did I ever do to you?
Now I feel all sorts of pressure about what I’m going to write. I didn’t sign up for this. Barb just wrote all this stuff about how damn funny I am, and now I feel like the center stage is on me, because if someone from HER site reads about how poop-your-pants funny I am, and then comes over here and the first post they see is me talking about my grocery list, then they are going to think that I suck and never come back. It’s kinda like that one time in 3rd grade when I tripped over my shoelace in dodge ball and lost the game for my team. Those little shits ALWAYS picked me last after that! Every damn time! That’s a lot of stress for a little kid wearing Hulk Underoos to have to deal with, yo.
What the Hell was I talking about again?
Oh yeah, the pressure to be funny.
Actually, this whole thing reminds me of some friends that I used to have at my last job. Come to think of it, ‘Friends’ might be a bit too strong….. they were more like ‘co-workers who I didn’t mind spending some free time with’.
This group of people had this regular thing where they would get together once a month after work and have a big group dinner/night out. It wasn’t really a “Happy Hour” thing.. it was more like a big group meal. After I had been working there a few months, they started asking me to join them, so I did.
The problem is, these people loved being around me. I mean LOVED it. They thought I was funny as shit, and they only wanted me to join them so I could crack them up at dinner like I did around the office.
That’s cool. I learned a long time ago that my sense of humor got me in good with many people on the rare times when my movie-star good looks looks failed me.
The problem was that these people were SO damn annoying about it. No sooner would I walk in to dinner than the whole group would stare at me with these dopey-ass grins on their faces, just WAITING for me to say something funny. If I decided not to play along and not say anything, then they would attempt to bait me and set me up so I could deliver a funny punch line.
“So Slyde…. Can you believe what Kathy from accounting did today?”
Then the asshat who started it would stare at me with the world’s biggest shit-eating grin on their face, and I just KNEW he was thinking …
“Oh Boy Oh Boy Oh Boy! I just set him up big time! I can’t wait to hear what he says about that!”
And I would look out across the table, and see every damn one of these lemmings staring at me waiting for me to put on my comedy show.
And it would really piss me off.
I would just respond with a succinct “Yeah, that was sure something.” and go back to my meal. The crest-fallen looks I saw on everyone’s face told me that each one of these jerks were thinking “Hey, that wasn’t funny at all!” silently made my day.
Eventually, I got tired of being the main attraction for their evenings and stopped going to the dinners.
I just read this back and, in retrospect, a story about how I sometimes try NOT to be funny isn’t very fucking funny at all, but I just took 20 minutes to write it so Damn It All, you’re going to read it.
It really IS a challenge trying not to just coast thru life on my looks. It would be so damn easy, too. Like taking candy from a baby.
This one has been simmering inside me for awhile now….
Actually, that might just be last night’s trip to Taco Bell. Excuse me while I take care of some ‘private’ business……
…. Aaaaaaand I’m back! I feel much better, thanks. Where was I?
Oh yeah. Kids.
Let me start by saying that I love kids. I mean I LOVE ‘em. And no, you pervs, I don’t mean that I love ‘em in a NAMBLA kind of way. THAT’S just sick and THOSE people should be tied to an airplane propeller.
No, I mean that I love being around kids. Most times, I’d rather spend time with kids and animals than adults. Now, that EITHER means that I am a caring, sensitive human being, or that I’m Lenny from Of Mice and Men…
Anyhoo, the point I am trying to make is that I love being around kids, but Son Of A Bitch when I see a child with no manners it drives me up the wall.
I have taught my son to always say “Please” and “Thank You”. I have likewise taught him to say “Hello, Mr. So-and-So” when we enter someone’s home. My son is far from perfect, but the little man is as polite as I can reasonably make him, and he speaks to an adult when spoken to.
But if one more child walks into my home and just walks past me without saying Word One, I think I am going to grab the little bastard by the scruff of the neck and plunge his face into the toilet, screaming “Bet Ya Wish You Had Said ‘Hello’ NOW, Don’t ya, ya little fuckface?”
A little overboard? Maybe.
But it really pushes my buttons. My son often has friends over and when I ask them a question, they just look at me blankly and walk away. Friz will try to defend the little monsters by saying “They’re just shy”, but I call Bullshit on that one. I don’t care how shy you are, if someone asks you a direct question, you answer it. Hell, I’d rather have the kid tell me to go “Fuck off” than to just walk past me where the “Fuck off” is just IMPLIED.
What really amazes me is that I know all these kid’s parents. They are all GOOD people. I always figured rude kids would come from rude parents, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
Apparently, rude children seem to just stem from parents who are too lazy to give a shit enough to discipline their kids. If MY son did half the things I see these other kids doing when I was at someone else’s home, I would be mortified. But it never seems to faze these parents at all.
Ok, now that I’ve gotten that off my chiseled chest, I feel a lot better.
Hmmmm, reading this back, maybe I don’t really like kids after all?
I’m mostly spending my hot summer nights doing what EVERY American does during this time…..
Enjoying the beach and pool, attending tons of outdoor parties and BBQ’s, and hosting a weekend Swingers Orgy and Clambake (pssst… try to get there early… you do NOT want to know where those clams have been past 6pm!)
Anyway, the OTHER thing that I like to do during these last few lazy, hazy days of summer is to stay up late to watch vampire movies. Actually, ANY horror movie will do, but lately I’ve been down with the Fang crowd.
So, I thought I’d tell you about the last 2 vampire flicks I took in.
I had heard rumblings about this small indy movie all over the interwebs about 6 months ago, so like a good little fanboy I put it on my Netflix queue and waited patiently for it to be released, which it finally was as of last week.
This movie was good. Very good. It tells the story of a world that has collapsed due to the fact that a plague has turned 99% of the world into Vampires. A mysterious stranger, just called Mister, swoops in to save a teenage boy from a vampire massacre, and the 2 set off to find the last human refuge.
The movie was creepy. The vampires were kinda half zombie/half vamp, and I thought it worked really well. The movie was also dark and depressing, as these 2 lost souls really fight a losing battle. It was kinda like The Road, but with a supernatural twist.
The only thing I DIDN’T like about this movie was the actor who played Mister. I thought he was a TERRIBLE actor, and completely wrong for the part. He just didn’t seem to fit in the movie, and the otherwise exceptional cast, at all. THEN I looked at the credits and it all suddenly made sense. The dude who played Mister was also the dude who wrote the movie, so I guess he just stuck himself into the film and decided to play the bad-ass hero. He did a piss-poor job of it, I thought.
But that was just a small quibble to an otherwise awesome movie.
1) It was a vampire movie with a picture of a hot girl on the cover.
2) It starred Jason Mewes, the “Jay” of “Jay and Silent Bob” fame, and I just HAD to see how such a brain-dead burnout could pull off a leading man role.
In the end, he did pretty well.
Make no mistake, this movie is no Stakeland. It’s more comedy than horror, but I thought Mewes did a good enough job to keep me entertained.
In Bitten, Mewes plays a graveyard-shift ambulance EMT worker who one night finds a girl, bloody and half dead, in a dumpster. For some reason, he decides to take her home with him instead of the hospital, where wouldn’t you know it, she turns out to be a vampire!
Most of the next 90 minutes revolve around Jason trying to satiate the blood-hunger of his now live-in vampire/girlfriend.
I can’t say it was a great movie, but it kept me interested.
And 90% of that interest revolved around the main character, Erica Cox, who is now HANDS DOWN the damn SEXIEST woman in Hollywood. According to me, at least.
I’m not kidding…. This chick melts the screen. She is SO damn hot, and it doesn’t hurt that she gets naked a lot and does naughty things with other girls in the movie. I think I’m a little in love with her now. It might even be BEYOND love. If there was a place I could send her my credit card, I think I’d happily slap a stamp on it and mail it to her, just to make her happy.
Anyway, I think I need to take a cold shower now. Hopefully Erica reads this soon and comes over to join me.
p.s. I also finally got to watch Insidious. While not a vampire movie, it IS one of the creepiest damn movies I’ve seen in a while. Scared the Bejeesus outta me a few times. Definitely check that out, too.
And no, you Smart-Alec’s, it’s NOT that I am SMOLDERINGLY sexy. THAT wouldn’t be much of a cat to let out of the bag, now would it?
No, this particular confession is of a more ‘private’ nature.
What is it, you might ask?
It’s that I don’t like underwear.
That’s actually probably a bit too mild. I HATE underwear.
It’s not that I hate the IDEA of underwear. I think that whoever invented the first pair of underwear really had his head in the right place (in someone’s CROTCH!.... Bada-bing! Thank you! Thank you! I’ll be here all night! Remember to tip your waitresses!).
I mean, the CONCEPT of underwear is spot-on. I guess in theory it’s a good idea to keep your naughty-bits all protected and free from flapping all over creation. Especially when I wear a pair of Daisy Dukes or Hot Pants. THEN there’s a SERIOUS concern with Mr. Wiggles popping out to say “How do ya do?”
So yeah, I GET the thought behind having to wear underwear.
I just don’t like wearing it.
I find that it’s very binding and uncomfortable. When I’m at work, I always find myself squirming around in my seat because my damn underwear just doesn’t feel right. I feel like I’m too confined and restricted.
My boys want to be FREE, dammit!
Granted, it’s probably not much of an issue for the ‘average’ guy, but as you all know, I have an especially large Hoo-Ha and I don’t think that modern science has yet to invent a fabric flexible enough to contain all that power trapped in there. Maybe they could make me a pair of Underoos from that stuff that they use to coat the Space Shuttle? Or maybe Flubber?
Or maybe I could just start wrapping my privates in Cellophane?
In any event, there are days where I just decide not to wear any underwear at all.
I’m always worried on those days. I have these thoughts that I am going to get into a car accident, and as a crowd of people gather around me as I’m laid out on the street, the medics on the scene are going to have to give me emergency CPR or something, but for some reason they first pull my pants down to let me breathe better, and then the whole crowd will start to point and laugh as my Franks and Beans are laid out in all their glory on the hot asphalt.
The more I think about it, I realize that it doesn’t make much sense that a paramedic would pull my pants down to give me CPR. I know that I failed 8th grade Health class, but I’m pretty fucking sure that there’s nothing down there that you can blow air into.