My two latest Netflix acquisitions have not quite piqued my interest in any substantial way, so I’m letting them collect dust while I’ve pawed my way through my VHS cabinet and begun working my way through tapes of MST3K episodes recorded off the Sci-Fi Channel roughly ten years ago. These tapes — there are a couple dozen of them — are in bad shape. The sound is so bad that you have to turn it…
• I saw Run Fatboy Run* last night with Courtney. It was funny and oh so very corny — man, the symphony was swelling on the soundtrack — with its storyline about a sad sack dude who shirks his duty as a soon-to-be husband and father by leaving his pregnant bride at the altar, and then five years later decides to win her back by running a marathon. That’s a pretty idiotic premise, and I…
I knew it was coming. But, man, I held out an irrational hope that it wouldn’t actually happen. And like all irrational hopes, this one was dashed. Dashed!So, my downstairs neighbors are relocating to another unit in the building because they recently had a baby and it’s damned hard to survive with a newborn in a one-bedroom apartment. From what I understand of the parenting world, you need a spare room to occasionally lock yourself…
My TV remote has stopped working. New batteries, old batteries, no batteries — nothing seems to work. This means I can’t flip over to the DVD player and may be forced to watch the Real World awards show five hundred more times. Halp.
You know, Girls Gone Wild commercials have really soured my opinion of the steel drums. Before, I was fairly indifferent about them. But now, any time I hear them, I automatically want to throw up.
• Watch Semi-Homemade Cooking With Sandra Lee. Take a shot of whisky every time she says “wonderful” or “beautiful.” Take two shots and punch yourself in the face every time she says “wonderful wonderful” or “beautiful beautiful.” • Funnel a can of PBR every time you hear a Hum song in a car ad. • Pour vodka in your ears every time that OxiClean/Kaboom dude comes on the screen and yells at you for no…
So, internet, I’m up late (not really, it’s only 12:30, but I’m tired), unable to find anything of quality on television. It smells like cat shit in here and I have had a sour stomach all day and haven’t had much of an appetite until now (after crunching down on a nearly two-inch-long chicken bone in my three-day old chicken salad sandwich, I lost my appetite for a while). I don’t know what’s wrong with…
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