lifetime piling up

I’d like it to be known here and now that going to the movies by yourself is arguably the best way to enjoy a film. For too long people have waited until the DVD release of a movie because they couldn’t find anyone to see it with in a theater. There’s nothing stopping you from going, so just go! People don’t talk during movies anyway (unless you’re riffing on it) so going alone is the most logical, and relaxing choice. Of course I’m speaking from the viewpoint of someone who is single, so if you are in a relationship I would say that not going to the movies without your significant other is either means that you’re a dick or she’s just not that into Quentin Tarantino (and vice versa). But I digress. The popular mentality that going to the movies alone implies that you are alone and pathetic and nobody loves you.

Not true.

Going out and doing things alone means you get to do whatever you want to do. You don’t have to negotiate a plan to go out, you don’t have to wait around for someone, and you can do whatever you want for as long as you want. And yes, you will get barraged with happy couples shopping and holding hands and such, so good for them. But you are free! And that’s an awesome feeling? Isnt’ it???

On a side note, having spent a lot of time in the bookstore lately, I have rarely come across couples shopping for books. Most couples are shopping for clothes in the mall adjacent from Borders, but I always see a lot of  people shop for books by themselves. I can’t imagine being self conscious about my book choices. If the guy/girl you are wooing doesn’t like your choice in books then that is their problem. But on the other hand, if I saw my significant other buying a chick lit (known to most men as garbage) then yes, I’d probably question her taste in literature. But only because I’m an asshole.*

The acceptance of seeing movies alone came about earlier today, when I felt the urge to see Inglorious Basterds. So far, two individuals who said they would see it with me flaked out (or have been flaky). So I decided that I wasn’t going to sit around and sacrifice a good time and feel like a tool. The movie was very, very strange. But like all things QT, it was well written and entertaining. And the Nazis depicted in the movies where either fucking assholes or absolutely hilarious assholes. But above all, I wish I could’ve grown up to be “The Bear Jew”, minus the Boston accent.

ANYWAY, I guess what I’m trying to say is that while attempting to turn over a new leaf and have a different attitude towards the opposite sex (and life in general), I have at the same time become somewhat of a boob. And being aware of this has not made me very happy. Maybe I’m just not getting involved with the right women, but that’s a theory I’ve had for a while. But lately it feels more and more like there’s always a catch or it’s too good to be true. The point is that I have absolutely no idea what they want from me. I don’t know how they want me to act. I don’t know if they think I’m actually funny. I don’t know if they take me seriously or not. All I can do is be myself and that’s that. And if that’s not good enough, then I guess I’ll be going to the movies alone indefinitely. And I have no problem with that.

Or I could be overreacting to nothing, as usual. God damn it.

*Actually, no. Chick lit is for women who either don’t like reading or have unrealistic expectations when it comes to relationships and life. And I’m saying this because most of the girls I’ve dated who have read these kinds of books were also incredibly patronizing toward my interests.

i have muscles

Four rangers cleaned up after 7000+ people. In one day.

We are the best.

games for days

I’ll get the random shit I usually save for the end out of the way: what the fuck is up with toothbrushes these days? I got a new one yesterday, and it has a “tongue freshener” and the head is zig-zagged to “conform to my teeth”. Whoever makes these things honestly just bends the fuck out of them and says it specially designed to get hard to reach areas. I had no idea that there was an area that was hard to reach in my mouth! I’m not a whale. If it has bristles and isn’t pink, I’m going to use it to brush my teeth. I’m not paying $7 for a wacky looking plastic stick. Fuck you, Crest.

If I told 14-year-old me that the $30 I had intended to use to purchase a video game was instead spent on books, he would probably call me a nerd and then sit in his room and wonder what it would be like to kiss a girl who never liked me (I was a strange kid). But yeah, I bought Watchmen and The Fall today in hopes of stimulating the few brain cells I have left, but also because I prefer my summer reads to be about existentialism. I’ve read more books this summer than in any previous year already (three) and I’ve got a few more on my list to get through. After reading 50 pages or so of Watchmen, I can see what all the fuss was about. It’s very well written, and good dialogue is what I appreciate the most in a story. I’m sure by the time I’m finished, I won’t want to see the movie.

After I bought my books, I decided to indulge in a little crass consumerism by eating at McDonald’s. It was during my 800 calorie treat that I realized that I am my own worst enemy… intellectually speaking, of course. I say this because last night I saw G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra. I saw this movie for two reasons. One, I heard through various blogs that it was an absolute train wreck of a movie that flirted with the idea that the intended viewing audience is retarded and I just had to see it for myself. The other reason was that AEA wanted to see it I wasn’t going to say no. I was not going to let my personal taste ruin another good time. Besides, what’s the harm in a popcorn flick?

But I committed the cardinal intellectual sin: I did something to be ironic. I gave $10.50 to a movie studio which may have produced the most quintessentially formulaic movie of all time. I swear to you all, it was like watching a shot for shot remake of Team America: World Police, except that it wasn’t supposed to be a joke. By giving Paramount my money, I supported their campaign of celluloid terrorism because I thought it would be funny. Even though the movie help my interest most of the time by blowing shit up every 10 minutes and had a surprise cameo by Brendan Fraser, the studio executives that wrote and produced this movie knew that it was just a two hour commercial (much like Transformers) and nothing else. That’s fine by me, but I don’t want to support that mentality. Yet I did anyway. I now understand why people hate hate ironic hipsters so much.

This experience will likely lead to some unwarranted self loathing and I will question my taste in everything for a few days, but I know that from years of watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 it’s important to enjoy a little schlock now and then. After all, terrible, formulaic movies aren’t going away any time soon. But if anyone catches you and questions your taste, just say you were doing it for the lulz.

Upon re-reading this, I realize that I might be a horrible, stuck up person. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise to most of you.

do not fuck with the mozfather

Morrissey is probably one of the few musicians who looks cooler the older he gets.

we were better off as animals… right?

I was having a discussion with a friend today about drinking, specifically the justification for drinking and drunkenness. It was during this conversation that I concluded that humans can be pretty fucking dumb.

A hard night of drinking results in a hangover, which everyone can agree upon. And it’s also agreed that hangovers are awful, especially when one has to go to work. But I am willing to bet that everyone who drinks, be they frat boy, hipster, or newly divorced cougar, thinks to themselves at some point that there will be physical repercussions to their drinking. And yet for some reason we all say “fuck it” and throw back a shot of whiskey and it’s all downhill from there. Why do we think it’ll be worth it? I mean, it’s not worth it, ever. It’s not fun, and hangover days are more or less spent wearing sunglasses indoors and watching one of the crappier Bruce Willis action movies (i.e. Mercury Rising)  in the afternoon and not doing anything productive. But we do it for the sake of being social, or to forget that life outside of the bar sucks, or because someone is paying for your drinks and you might as well take advantage of the situation.

Also, try not to get roped into two consecutive chugging contests. That will just make things worse.

I’m writing this only because last night was by far the strangest night of drinking in my life, and I’m trying to put together how and why things played out the way they did. I woke up this morning to make sure whatever piece of my car came off wasn’t important (it’s wasn’t, sorta) and why four car bombs cost $32 at fucking BRANNIGANS. And more importantly, I couldn’t understand how I keep making it home alive. Either I’m a great drunk driver or a lucky idiot. I need a Vitamin Water and two more aspirin… and some answers.

In other news, I’m happy that my brother has been cleared to join a police precinct and go on to the police academy, I’m taking my motorcycle permit test sometime this week, and after careful deliberation with my bank account, I decided not to go to All Points West after all. In any case, the entries are going to be infrequent thanks to Twitter, but if anything important happens it’ll end up here.

In conclusion, here’s this guy:

disclaimer

Yeah, just ignore these last few entries. Chalk it up to extreme boredom and overthinking dumb shit.

In lighter news, I’ve picked this song as the 2009 summer anthem:

my sweet lord

I decided that enough was enough, so I started preparing my laptop for a complete memory wipe. Sure, I will probably lose 60% of my music but it’s just sitting there doing nothing so I might as well live with the music that’s still on my iPod. As I was mentally saying goodbye to my files, I realized that there was no way to back up the 1,000+ pictures I had stored. So naturally I began looking through old pictures, seeing what I could salvage, and came to two startling conclusions. One, I can’t believe that in 2006 I rocked a full chin strap beard and hair down to my shoulders. Two, Krista and I took a lot of pictures. Like, over a hundred in a little less than a year. Yet there was one that stood out above the rest that pretty much captured the essence of our relationship: she looked lovely, and I looked like a goofy asshole. But that’s not the point.

I decided a while ago to stop being so damn sentimental (and I was doing so well) but for some reason I picked that picture as the sole survivor of the laptop cleansing. The picture doesn’t make me sad or mad or happy. It’s just funny, and that’s all I think of it. I don’t long for the time the picture was taken, nor would I reminisce about it with Krista. And I think it’s because the two people in the picture don’t exist any more.

It’s strangely comforting, but at the same time it makes me wonder what compels us to hold on to bits and pieces of the past no matter how much we want to move on. Do we just naturally not want to forget things? It may explain why my grandparents have documented every facet of our family’s life (“You want to prove you were there!” as my grandpa would say).

Lately it’s been the opposite of that. You live through events and you meet new friends or lovers, yet there’s no reason to document every single thing that you do.You don’t know how it’s going to turn out in the end. And when it’s all over, the necessity for living proof can either kill you or make you smile.

OK, I have no idea what point I was trying to make here, but I had to kill time while my laptop’s hard drive was being erased. Sorry if it doesn’t make any sense.

breaking the broken

Oh lord, I originally wrote something terrible and depressing so in lieu of that, here’s a GIF picture from Arrested Development.

blues from down here

the bleeding heart show

Some people have pretty lofty goals. Whether it be President of the United States, a successful entrepreneur, or a whale sperm collector, everyone wants to fulfill their fantasies. I, on the other hand, want to create the perfect mix tape.

When you think about it, mix tapes are a form of currency. They can make or break your chances with the object of your affection, so the better the quality, the better chance you have of getting that sweet, sweet lovin’. I now give you some handy tips for making a great mix tape.

1. Stay away from commercial radio songs

Sure, you may play it safe pick a popular love song that everyone knows, but it’s not a very original choice. Dig into your music catalogue and find something that reminds you of the guy/girl you like. The more unknown the song, the better. But at the same time, don’t pick something too avant guarde (you’re testing the waters here, so don’t put on any Animal Collective songs unless you know they’re into them). Remember, the amount of effort you put into finding good music is proportionate to the amount the recipient thinks you like them.

2. It should be no longer than 12 songs

I’m sure you can think of more than a dozen songs to put on a mix, but it’s best not to over exert yourself. Too many songs could make it seem like you’re trying too hard, so 12 is a conservative number. If you want, pick about 20 or so songs and then whittle it down to the best of the best. You want it to be directly to the point, yet long enough to play multiple times without getting redundant.

3. Don’t include on “Love Song” or “Just Like Heaven” by The Cure

Don’t get me wrong, these songs are fantastic. But including these on a mix is a classic mistake, because everyone knows them. And while The Cure are one of those bands that straddle the line between commercial rock radio and indie-dorm room introspection, including these songs is just laaaaaazy. Might I suggest “Close to Me” or “Doing the Unstuck” instead?

4. Make it upbeat

Meaningful, delicate love songs are integral part of the mix tape canon, but you don’t want it to turn into a  snooze fest. Throw a curve ball or two! Add a few upbeat songs that you like, and think the recipient will like as well. You have to make it fun to listen to, because you want to come across as fun, don’t you?

5. 1,000,000 bonus points if you actually put it on cassette

If you know the recipient owns a cassette player, then you know what to do. Everyone has a soft spot for analog, and they take much more time and effort to make. Trust me, it’s worth it.

6. Decorate the case!

Made a great mix? Cool, but your work is not done. You can’t just hand in a tape/CD with just a track list, you need to give it some flavor. Even if you can’t draw for your life (i.e. ME), stick figures telling inside jokes is good enough. Just make it personal.

In conclusion…

Once you’ve completed your masterpiece, turn it over to your crush and pray to whatever deity that’s convenient that you’ll score a date. There’s nothing like that anxious feeling you get when you’re waiting to hear back from the person you like once you’ve put your feeling out there in a 45 minute playlist.

And what if your crush doesn’t like your mix? Fuck ‘em, that’s what.