Saturday, November 24, 2012

Use That Freedom

There are three types of bad movies.

The first type is one you watch to be entertained- you know that it's terrible, but you still expect that it will make you laugh, at the very least unintentionally. There will more than likely be attractive actors, usually in various stages of undress; ridiculous dialogue and a ludicrous plot. This type of film is the cornerstone of SMAC's lineup; what our very foundation is based upon (we will return soon, promise). Recent examples include The Mighty Ducks, ThanksKilling, Ed and any of the SyFy Channel movies (excluding Sharktopus, which is a finely crafted masterpiece and should always be regarded as such).

Highly recommended. Seriously.
The second type is so awful, so horrifically atrocious that you can't even get back the viewing hours that you have just spent. Getting through an entire film in this category makes you want to take up a nasty crack habit just so you have a less embarrassing "feat" to bring up at parties. A telling sign of any movie in this lexicon are the shakes, sweating, becoming pale and contemplating suicide a quarter of the way through. Movies in this genre include From Justin to KellyValentine's Day and at least ninety percent of Nicolas Cage's arsenal.

The third and most hazardous type of bad movie is anything and everything Twilight. 

As hard as I tried, I could not avoid the fact that a new Twilight film opened last weekend. Sadly, I've actually been dragged to two of them in the theater, and collectively, they were the worst four hours of my life. A couple of my friends made me go see Blue Moon or whatever the fuck it was, and I hadn't read the books or seen the first movie, and I fell asleep for twenty minutes, and I was still able to follow the entire "plot" (spoiler: there are dogs or some shit). During one of the scenes the CGI was so bad that I actually started to laugh. The acting was so painful it was like burning. Kind of like that one time in college when- well, never mind.

The next time was entirely my fault. I offered to take one of my girls who was nursing a break-up wound, on one condition: I was allowed three out-loud comments. I purchased our tickets online so as not to draw attention to myself and attempted to find a seat in the jam-packed theater (we were there opening night- sometimes I am such an amazing friend that I'm jealous of myself). I tried to sit next to some pre-teen Twitard until she threw her arm over the seat and glared at me. Yikes. Who was she saving this for, her imaginary boyfriend? At any rate, my friend and I sat down anyway and I reminded her of our pact. I definitely benefitted more from my makeshift MST3K than the audience did; I doubt they appreciated when I referred to the movie as "Twilight: Breaking Hymen." Also I really wanted to incorporate the drinking game that my brother and follow Nip Clique-ers had invented to get me through the evening but I was afraid that I would be dead within ten minutes.

This movie has been out for a week and has already made $362 million internationally. It doesn't matter that all the "films" in this franchise are known to be appallingly awful; apparently, eleven-year-olds (chronologically and otherwise) don't care. Watching the two that I saw was like coating my snatch with honey and then sending a personalized, highlighted E-vite to every bee in North America.

This way to insanity
The only reason that I have actually been anticipating Twilight: Breaking Hymen Part Jesus Fuck How Many of These Are There is that supposedly, this is the last one until everyone involved decides that they want more money. Until I hear otherwise, there are no more Twilights forever. We're free, everybody!

PS- +5 to whoever can name the movie that I shamelessly quoted this post title from.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Nugs and Tits Do Thanksgiving (Hahaha. "Do.")

For those of you who are living in 1) a foreign country B) outer space or COPERNICUS) anywhere else I forgot, it's Thanksgiving weekend in the US. Normally I would commemorate this event with a post but I stupidly agreed to cook and bake this year, so I've been running around like a ferret on speed for the past 48 hours and forgot to write one.

Luckily I have two blogs, and over on Snark and Sex, Coyote Tits took the Thanksgiving reins (oh haaaai) and put up a blog entry dictating how to survive the holiday at your significant other's house. Since I contributed to a good third of that, the work was pretty much done for me and I just decided to post our joint effort here as well. Plus this gives me another chance to shamelessly promote myself, so there's that.

Whether you're spending this Thanksgiving alone and depressed, or you're with your date's family and depressed, or with your own family and depressed, here's mine and Tits' sacred manual of rules on how to withstand the holidays.

PS- there's a drinking game! You're welcome.

Tits' genius advice is in blue; my infinite wisdom is in red.
  1. Do Not bring your dog. I don't care how cute Precious is and that she's normally so well-behaved and fits in your purse. Don't do it. Especially if they are Tits' dogs (below). She likes to think she's an awesome mom but it's really because she lets them get away with fucking murder because they're so adorable and she's a pushover.

    As cute as they are, remember that they will hog all the food and/or attention.
  2. Do Not wear sweat pants, Ugg boots and an old tank top. At least try to look like you are making an effort.

  3. Do Not complain about the food. I don't care if it doesn't taste like your grandma's mashed potatoes, and so what that they have oysters at their dinner. Keep your bitching to yourself.

  4. If you have a food allergy tell someone in advance. My sisters are lactose intolerant and so we tell everyone like 20 times in advance or bring our own food. Don't show up and be like "yeah I'm gluten free, vegan and allergic to garlic."

  5. Do Not try to have sex at their house. Can you spell awkward? Nugs: That never happened to me that one time in college or anything. 

  6. Do Not flirt with someone who isn't your date. I don't care if his older brother is Brad fucking Pitt, wait till after Thanksgiving to flirt with him. Nugs: Unless said brother is Baby Goose. Then all bets are totally off, and no one would blame you. Especially me.

  7. Do Not get drunk - Even if the family makes you fucking insane, try to limit yourself to enough wine to just get you tipsy.

  8. Do Not smoke. Anything. Even if offered. This is clearly a trick. Again, this never happened to me, ever.

  9. Do Not bring up taboo topics. Find out what they are in advance and avoid them at all costs. Whether this be religion, politics, cats vs. dogs, Dancing With the Stars or the New York Yankees a.k.a. the Evil Empire, learn what gets your date's family all wonky and DO NOT DISCUSS.

  10. Do know how to dress. CANNOT BE STRESSED ENOUGH. I don't care if your "best feature" is your amazing rack; it's probably not the best idea to shove it in his parents' face. Usually a nice pair of jeans and a dressy top that doesn't put the goods on display is your best bet. Unless, of course, his brother is Baby Goose. See Rule #6.

  11. Do know how to win over every family member individually. While this may seem like the ultimate in horrific situations, don't commit suicide just yet. Basically the key to mastering this art is what I (and the US Army) refer to as "Divide and Conquer:"
THE MOM: This is the most difficult, since showing up at her Thanksgiving feast is an admission that you're being railed on the regular by her baby boy (doesn't matter what his birth order is; he will ALWAYS be her baby boy). The trick to winning over his mother is to go on and on about how amazing her son is (not in that way, because GROSS). Also offer to help out during dinner as often as you can, especially with dishes. Getting his mom to love you is by far the most important because if she hates you, it only goes downhill from there. Seriously, I've been there with a mom hating me. I always like to volunteer to bring something like cookies or wine.

THE DAD: The males of the family are always easier for me, probably because I'm half a dude myself and I realize now how weird that made me sound. The best strategy for the father is innocent flirting- "oh, Mr. Gosling, I see where your son gets his great ass. Eyes! I meant eyes." Just kidding. Never talk about anyone's ass. Keep it to neutral topics such as intelligence and snappy dressing, or radiation levels.

If this is any of his relatives let me know. I'll be right over.
SIBLINGS: Dealing with siblings is usually more manageable due to the fact that your date will probably brief you on the situation prior to your arrival. If one of their brothers or sisters is exceptionally unbearable you'll most likely have been prepared for it way in advance. For the regular, more normal siblings, mastering them should be relatively (see what I did there?) more simple: 
  • BROTHERS: Brothers are pretty painless- just sit down in front of the TV and watch the football game with them. If you're a fan, don't hold back with the commentary. If you're not, let them know that you're "trying to get into it." Also, it helps if you're moderately attractive. Just sayin. 
  • SISTERS: Contrary to what my scintillating personality may have you believing, I am, in fact, of the feminine persuasion, so I am aware that the best way to charm a woman is to let her talk about herself. Find out from your date what she's into and ask her questions, and let her dominate the conversation. You're in.
12. Do use this handy guide from with your own family. You'll thank us later.

Good luck with whatever you're dragged to this holiday season, and remember that I'm always thankful for all of you. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone, and I mean that in every possible way.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Oh, Canada! The Sociopath Edition

I was at work yesterday, screwing around on Facebook and not doing anything at all incriminating on the interwebz, because that would never happen, when this viral image popped up absolutely fucking everywhere.

God, I would still hit that. Early and often. I am such a sociopath.

Apparently this is a promotional poster for Only God Forgives, the next collaboration from Baby Goose and his Drive director Nicolas Winding Refn, which was already enough to get me running to the theater. This was filming in Thailand (BANG KOK? Clearly not just a clever name) when I was supposed to be there for the film festival last year but the trip fell through. Good news for Ryan, not so good for the rope and chloroform industry. Did I say that out loud? I mean no.

They also put this out, so I feel (slightly) less crazy:

Here's the official summary on Wikipedia:

According to a production synopsis, the film follows Julian, who runs a Thai boxing club as a front organization for his family's drug smuggling operation, as he is forced by his mother Jenna to find and kill the individual responsible for his brother's recent death. 

Ryan Gosling as Julian:
  • An Englishman who lives in Bangkok and "is a respected figure in the criminal underworld" according to a production synopsis.Gosling had undertaken Muay Thai training in preparation for the role by that September, which included 2–3 hour daily sessions.

So basically what this is saying is that Ryan Gosling wears a wifebeater, kicks random people's asses and speaks in a British accent for two hours? I'll be sitting in the back by myself. Also that crashing sound you just heard was every single pair of panties I own falling to the floor in anticipation.

There better not be any puppies or babies in this movie. I might die.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Dead Space Vol. 2- BOOM! Panties Drop

That noise you heard on Sunday was the splatter of ovaries hitting televisions as they exploded in a sea of "HOLY GOD YES."

This week's The Walking Dead, "Say The Word," picked up right where "Killer Within" left off, with everyone being introduced to Rick (?) and Lori's daughter. Rick was too busy writhing around on the floor trying to win that well-deserved Emmy, so Daryl stepped up and held her and HOLY SHIT KITTENS AND MAGICAL RAINBOWS. Every time he asked the baby if she "liked that, Little Ass-kicker," not a woman on the planet did not respond in the affirmative. The only way the writers could have ensured more Defcon One-r levels of masturbating is if they would have cut to that video of Baby Goose singing the theme song from My Little Pony.

Top that off with Daryl putting flowers on Carol's grave and that's it. I'm done. Your move, other racists.

Apparently getting massively turned on by Daryl cooing to Lori's infant daughter does not make me a sociopath, judging by the Talking Dead that followed "Say The Word" (gotta say, that's a relief). I am, however, a little concerned about the tingly feelings that develop whenever the focus shifts to Batshit Rick (BRick? Let's make this a Thing).

For those of you familiar with the books, you know that Lori's death begins Rick's spiral into becoming completely and totally fucking insane. Also, for those of you familiar with the books, you know exactly who was on the other end of that phone call. I like how they're wasting zero time and not dragging that storyline out (it's AT&T, because Rick was too stupid to switch to Verizon).


I'm a little worried as to what it says about me that the more insane Rick (BRick) gets, the more I'm attracted to him. It can't be just me, right? I mean, his Crazy Face is pretty sexy, even if it's really bloody. Also if you think about it, all of this insane rage porn is to avenge the death of his wife, whether we all hated her or not, so it's kind of devoted and sweet. Kind of. Maybe. Also don't forget- British. He did this once:

I think I'm alone now.

Even The Governor also got in on some cute kid action, until we discovered that his daughter Penny is a zombie that he keeps in a closet, oh haaai.

Again, if you read the comics you knew some of that already, but the show has been deviating, so there's still that element of surprise.

It'll be interesting to see just how important a role Penny plays with all the characters, and just how closely the showrunners follow the books, if you get what I'm saying.

Wait- ew! Not like that. You perverts. She's like seven! I love you all so much.

At any rate, thank you, The Walking Dead, for no longer being a metaphor for my sex life. Between Daryl holding babies and BRick and his one-man zombie destroyer, after next week I'll most likely be pregnant.

Monday, November 12, 2012

Oh, Canada! The Birthday Suit Edition

Today in the US is Veteran's Day, a monumental day in American history because it celebrates our troops and all that they've contributed to our country over the past few centuries. I'm definitely not knocking this, considering the most significant achievement I've completed recently is a grilled cheese sandwich.

I'm awesome.
However, November 12th also marks another glorious feat which should not ever be overlooked. 32 years ago, even before my mother graced this planet with my existence (holy shit, I'm old), the world was introduced to Baby Goose.

This led to an epic chain of events that includes this video that doesn't make me a pedophile;

and culminates (so far) with this scene from the best film released in 2011 that did not result at all in my ladyboner.

Also none of my friends talked to me on Facebook at all today inquiring when this post was going to go up. Kitty and I in particular did not have this conversation, which never made me sincerely question the validity of what I used to consider our very close friendship:

Nugs: Today is Ryan Gosling's birthday
If I get arrested will you bail me out?

Kitty: Sure!
Have fun!

Nugs: Why do I think you're lying?
You're totally going to call the cops

Kitty: lol

Nugs: Maybe he likes handcuffs
I couldn't tell even though I've been hiding outside his house for a week I mean no
Can you imagine if I knew where his house was?????

*extremely long pause*

You're forwarding this conversation to the government, aren't you?

Kitty: I kinda do
It's near one of my friend's places

Nugs: WHAT.

I told my dad about this, by the way, and he just gave me a horrified look and went, "NO." Bobby asked me what I wrote on the card when I mailed him a chloroformed cake and nudie pic. Shut up! You guys don't know my life.

Also also- this:

I don't even... I'm done.
Anyway, enjoy this Evolution of Divinity from Buzzfeed of all the ways that the world has thanked Ryan Gosling's mom for bequeathing us with his photoshop-like presence. And Canada, we almost forgive you for Justin Bieber.
(Reminder- from the year 2000+ he is 100% legal. Party on.)

Wednesday, November 07, 2012

Dead Space Vol. 1- All Dawgs Go To Heaven

I usually don't do reviews of things I actually enjoy because then I can't make fun of them. However, this week's episode of The Walking Dead, "Killer Within," was such a major sack-punch (if I had a sack) that I HAVE to discuss it. All my friends are talking about it so I would feel kind of left out if I didn't. So here's a new thing that I'm trying out. If it turns out to be wildly popular, this is Volume 1. If it doesn't, eh, I tried.

If you watch the show and/or are a fan of the books but haven't gotten this far yet, I would recommend that you not read this post, because then you'll know what happened and might think I'm a bitch, even more than you probably already do. If, like me, you witnessed the emotional fallout in real time, then cool. All systems go.

Being on the West Coast, I should really know to avoid Facebook on Sundays and Tuesdays, when my friends will unfailingly post about that night's respective episodes of TWD and/or Sons of Anarchy. I had shut off my laptop but unfortunately was too stupid to remember to turn off my phone, so while I was eating my dinner this alert popped up from Booyabobby:

Our wish finally came true! But damn that was heart breaking.

As an avid reader of the comics, I could only assume that he was referring to the anticipated and celebrated death of Lori Grimes, one of the worst and most reviled characters in the history of network television, although I was surprised that this was the episode that the event took place. Lilly, the character that shoots Lori in the books, hadn't even been introduced on the show, and Lori's baby had yet to be born (Also, fans of the show, is that the worst pregnant stomach ever, or what? What did they put in there, a NERF ball?).

Zombie Baby? Or BOOBIES?!?!?!

Then again, Carol was still around, so that whole Sophia deal was completely out of whack with the timeline as well.

BTW, thanks for forgetting that I'm three hours behind you, Bobby.

I decided to quit with the neurotic, Jew-y psychoanalysis and just watch the damn episode, already. It started out hilariously with Glenn and Maggie being caught boning in the tower and getting "yeah, man" looks from Rick and Daryl. That scene easily goes into my Top 20 Walking Dead moments. Everyone's reactions were totally realistic- Maggie was mortified; Glenn was like, "check me out- I just got laid"; the men were all up in that shit.

That, of course, was short-lived because the generators all started blaring and the walkers began to pour in. The Atlanta Gang immediately commenced with the killing, slicing heads and stabbing all over the place.

Meanwhile, back in Mayberry- sorry, I meant Woodbury- Andrea continued to skank it up and try to get into the pants of both Merle and The Governor. He's who this election really needed, IMO. Imagine how awesome that would be.

This dude for President of Everything.
She and Michonne were, in fact, planning on taking Merle to find Daryl, but because The Governor spoke more than two words to her, Andrea wants to stay now. What the fuck happened to Andrea? She used to be cool, kind of. Then she jumped on Shane's dick and became a sniveling little twelve year old with floopy hands and whiny facial expressions.

I've also been expecting a lot more from Michonne this season. She's one of the most popular characters in the comics, and save for a bad-ass entrance at the end of last season, she hasn't done jack except stroll mopily around the house and tell Andrea why they can't trust people. I guess she did off her zombie pets, and that was kind of cool, but dude, if I had access to a katana blade I would use it to hand things to people. But anyway.

As Andrea attempted to slut it out in Mayberry, the Atlanta Gang was busy taking names in the prison. Fucking Andrew from episode 2 showed up while Rick was busy trying to save his friends. God, Andrew. Good timing. Fortunately Rick didn't have time for any of that shit and killed him.

PS- I found out at Comic-Con that Andrew Lincoln is actually super, super British. As if the weapon carrying and the copious ass-kicking weren't enough, he just got exponentially hotter, oh haaaai.

Wow, I am really fucked up.

Of course, as much I'd been reveling in how great this episode had been so far, I still remembered the spoiler (!!!!!!) Bobby had posted on my Facebook wall earlier and couldn't escape that nagging lump in my throat (that's what she said). TWD did not skimp on the brutal deaths this week. Carol is missing and we're not entirely sure whether she made it out. She never really had a clear purpose but still, that kind of sucks. The first gut-wrencher, however, came in the form of the episode's MVP, T-Dawg, who pushed Carol out of the way when the walkers had them cornered and ran directly into the line of fire, giving Carol a chance to escape or at least get a solid head start. I'd heard that T-Dawg would have a bigger role this season, having more than two lines and maybe even some character development. Guess not. RIP, T-Dawg. From what we could tell from your four syllables, you were pretty awesome.

Here's a clip of IronE Singleton on this week's Talking Dead. You can tell he's just as nice a guy as everyone says and I hope he books a ton more acting gigs after this.

Next up we had what Entertainment Weekly is referring is to as "that scene." Now, I've been on the Whore-y Grimes train ever since I discovered the books in 2010, but DAMN, Walking Dead.

Lori had the distinct attribute of being one of those characters that I absolutely despised up until the very minute that I realized they were a total goner. This is impressive considering that it's only been accomplished by very few others- Jack Shepard, Marissa Cooper, Daffy Duck.

I detested Lori the entire time and I had the same reaction to her passing that I had when Opie got killed off on Sons of Anarchy or when Jin and Sun drowned together on Lost, and those were all beloved television icons that I may never recover from.

While running from the walkers, Lori chose that exact moment to go into labor and ushered Maggie and Carl into the boiler room (finally! Carl "stays in the fucking house!"). Maggie was forced to play midwife until Lori started excessively bleeding, because she would of course probably have a zombie baby. Meanwhile Carl is off to the side like, "oh great, the first vagina I ever see and it's my mom's."

Lori realized that something was up with her kid and told Maggie she would have to cut her open and extract the baby from her stomach, most likely killing her in the process. The world went "YAY!" but then we had to watch her say goodbye to Carl. The scene is below, and it's heartbreaking.

The speech Lori gave to Carl when she told him he would have to take care of everyone, including his father, was handled with grace, sincerity and real emotion. It was one of the most realistic scenes I've watched on television since I can remember, and it was made even more difficult when Carl volunteered to shoot his own mother in the head so she wouldn't turn. Maggie left the room, we heard a gunshot and then Carl emerged, all stoic and Child of the Corn like. He's not an annoying, useless little shit anymore, and I'm looking forward to seeing where this goes.

Both Sarah Wayne Callies (who played Lori) and writer Robert Kirkman claim that Lori is dead, gone and off the show completely, but Callies totally lied about her character's fate this season so as not to spoil fans, and we never actually witnessed Carl shooting her in the head, so you never know. I really hope we get to see Zombie Lori. That would be sweet.

Also, now that Lori is gone, we'll probably never find out whose baby it actually is, either, since the comics never tell us. My theories are as follows:

If the baby ever jumps directly into Andrea, it's Shane's. (Chris Hardwick suggested this on an episode of Talking Dead once. I think that was genius.)

If the baby won't stay in the fucking womb, it's Rick's. ("Baby! Stay in the fucking womb." "NO!" "Yup, it's mine.")

I think if you take an informal poll, you'll find that the scene where most people lost it is where Rick sees his daughter (not mentioned in the episode, but if you read the comics, you know) and figures out that his wife is dead. Andrew Lincoln deserves all the fucking awards. Just all of them. Emmy, Golden Globe, American Kennel Club, Award for Obscure Abbreviations, Jamy Toaster, whatever. Hell, just elect him President.

The moment was borderline "what's-in-the-box," but the dude's wife was just killed. Seriously. BTW, this marks a turning point in the books where Rick begins a spiral into becoming a complete fucking mental patient.

There's a reason The Walking Dead  is one of my favorite television shows, and it's episodes like "Killer Within" that I would probably force my friends to watch to prove my point. This show does not fuck around, and although "Killer Within" was a terrible idea when I am PMS'ing and the leftover Halloween candy was not within arms' length, I am so grateful for quality programming and not more crap like Honey Boo Boo.