First order of business...
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Backseat Boris | People Iced: | Eleven | Car Bombs Planted: | Six | Favorite Weapon | Bare Hands | Arms Broken: | One | Eyes Gouged: | Eight | Tongues Cut Off: | Fourteen | Biggest Enemy: | Firecrotch | Get Your HITMAN Name |
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I'm coming for YOU, HSW! And I'm bringing my BARE HANDS with me!
It was an interesting weekend, y�all, fraught with automotive worries and axe-wielding teenage sexpot witch-zombies. Though not, thankfully, simultaneously. But allow me to explain, and to begin with the part that is really only �interesting� if you enjoy Tales from the Hood�of the Car.
Basically, my car has effectively knocked me over the head and run away with my wallet. See, I have to pay to get my registration renewed, right? Only first I had to pay for a smog check, to prove I should be allowed to pay for the renewal. Only to pass the smog check, I had to pay $240 to the dealership so they could replace some sort of made-up-sounding internal accessories, without which my car will apparently spontaneously combust while on the highway or something. And the dudes at the dealership are always mean to me, yo! They give me all this bullshit routine about what a bad car person I am if I don�t, like, replace the entire chassis every 200 miles or some dumb shit like that, and they say it the way you�d �recommend� a course of action to a pet owner right before you call the ASPCA.
And I�m telling you I didn�t need that aggravation from them, especially when I was already dealing with the stress of the fact that the execrable DMV never sent me my driver�s license renewal forms in the mail, and of course my license expires TOMORROW (because it�s my birthday), so I had to drag ass all the way to the DMV this morning at like negative zero o�clock and THEN they took a) my money, and b) MY PICTURE, and I LOOKED like a DERELICT. So in two to three weeks, I�m going to get a copy of the second worst photo ever taken of me, and I�m going to have to SHOW it to people all the time.
Well, lest you feel too sorry for me, I�m very happy to report that life is not all tribulation for Dr. No. On Saturday eve, my friend Domino and I first enjoyed a delicious luncheon at Babalu, where we�d never eaten before (but if Bob Saget likes it�), and where we got a �brownie banana cream pie�, which was about the best thing I�ve ever eaten. I also maintain that it sounds�kind of vulgar. Like, doesn�t it kind of sound disturbingly like something you might get offered in Vegas by a toothless woman in a leopard-print tube dress, in exchange for about $25? No, close your eyes and picture it � tell me I�m wrong!
Anyway, following this, we ventured to the movies, intent on seeing some Oscar-nominated film or other. Our minds were made up for us when a dude approached us and offered us �free tickets� to �a movie�. �Well, which movie?� Domino inquired, as I was na�ve enough to believe he meant any movie. He pointed to a poster behind us and said �That.� I won�t say the name of the film, because I�m about to be very mean about it, but suffice it to say that one of the reviews declared the lead actress �the sexiest living dead girl you�ll see this year�. (And no, it wasn�t Dita Von Teese.) Anyway, Domino and I were, of course, sold.
We go into the theater, where we are two of about six people that fell for this �free tickets� ploy, and found our seats. Gradually, about six more people enter, including this crazy bag lady who sat down RIGHT NEXT TO ME and started unloading all of her belongings into the seats on her other side, and then proceeded to eat a box of BEEF NACHOS with her BARE HANDS. And then, just as the movie was about to begin, this group of loud, chatty types enter and sit down directly behind us, and we were really miffed like, excuse ME, but unsolicited contemporaneous movie commentary is totally our gig, you know?
Well, not ten minutes into the film � and after no fewer than twice as many snide remarks had passed betwixt Dom and I � we realized that this group of Talky Tinas? Was the cast. THE CAST. Of the bad, bad movie we were watching. Well, it was too late to stop snickering at the dialogue and judging the hair, make-up, costumes, and overall creative choices in general, and it netted us some really dirty looks in the lobby afterward when we were shamelessly hanging out, staring at them as they emerged.
And I mean, really, it was necessary in order to get through. They really costumed that thing with a ham-fist, too, lemme tell you. Like, I get it that when you�re trying to make the (*ahem*) sexy actress start off as an Ugly Duckling, there are certain extreme measures you must take. Witness, if you will, Kathleen Turner�s starved-for-eyeliner look in the beginning of Romancing the Stone. No, I mean really. Look. I�ll wait! Because that? Was pretty good shootin�, you guys. Whereas THIS movie went the creepy-homemade-denim-smock-over-a-hospital-gown route to convey that she was poor and out of touch. They also went the character-evidently-is-so-poor-she-can�t-even-afford-shampoo route, which is just unacceptable. Not that I�d recommend it, but you can buy shampoo at the dollar store, y�all.
At any rate, between Beef Nachos and the makeshift premiere, it was by far the most surreal movie-going experience of my life. And THAT�S saying something.
Your Trivia Factoid Of The Day Is: The word �denim� comes from �de Nimes�, of Nimes, France. I�m Watching: I saw Grey�s Anatomy for the first time on Sunday, and I think I need to give my testosterone some time to adapt before watching it again. And: 24. I think that upstairs office at CTU has some kind of hallucinogenic gas leak, or something. EVERYONE who uses it is a dick until they get supplanted by someone else.